#emd writes

This may be a bit all over the place, and a bit less organized than usual, but I do have a reason. Trust. 

Viktor, of Arcane (not technically League, in this context) entered the cultural zeitgeist a few years ago — a quirky inventor character with a physical disability. His illness, brought to plot relevancy as a lung-centric terminal condition that combines with his existing mobility disorders, is a defining point of his character, and part of the reason he seeks out one of the other pivotal characters, Jayce, in his scientific pursuits. The duo works together on advancing “Hextech,” a combination of scientific prowess and runic magic that toys with powers greater than either understand. 

In the first season of the series, Viktor’s disability is carefully presented. He is seen progressing, his health worsening and body wasting away. He becomes more and more desperate, but clings steadfastly to his humanity. When he does resort to magic-based methods in order to relieve his predicament, he watches an assistant of his die in order to attempt to protect him. This prompts a distinctly empathetic and human reaction, followed by a nearly completed suicide attempt. In his resulting conversation with Jayce, he remarks that “in the pursuit of great, [they] failed to do good.” 

Viktor’s character is well designed. In the years following Season One, he became beloved by the fanbase, not only for his own merit but for his dynamic in reaction to Jayce. As the Internet is wont to do, a large portion of fans emerged “shipping” the two, drawing fanart and writing fiction of the two in intimate or domestic relationships. For the disabled community, a different love was formed for Viktor, that of individuals finally seeing a character that mirrored them. A character with a cane, a crutch, an immobilizer or KAFOs that wasn’t treated as comedic relief, that wasn’t weak or supported only by others. Viktor was selfish, allowed to make rash decisions, flawed in the best ways. His drive for his own survival kept the narrative moving, but also gave him agency. 

Season Two of Arcane came out last year, but I wasn’t able to watch it until this week. In preparation for the second installment, I rewatched the first: one of my favorite pieces of media. 

From the offset, Viktor in the second season is different. He is injured in the event that left the last season’s cliffhanger intact, leaving him unresponsive. When Jayce attempts to help, Viktor is trapped in combination with the Hexcore (they Han Solo’ed him, you get the picture). He is unresponsive until he wakes changed, his crutch morphed into a crude shepherd's staff. His body emerges changed, harsh purple biomatter bordering on mechanical form. When venturing to the Undercity, he retreats into the shadows, before discovering his powers to “heal” individuals of the drug addiction ravaging the underground— Shimmer. 

I was sure I didn’t need to point out why not only curing Viktor, but making him literally a Jesus figure, isn’t the most thoughtful piece of writing — but I was surprised to find how many people simply glazed over that choice in order to continue talking about his relationship with his now-opposing force, Jayce. This isn’t a chat about that relationship, so I’ll keep it brief unless relevant. In Marieke Nijkamp’s essay “The Trope of Curing Disability,” she states that:

“[it is alienating to see disabled character consistently cured in media]…because, really? Is that really the only possible happy ending?...How about a happy ending that lets us save the world? How about a happy ending that involves us staying disabled? Is that so hard to imagine? I don’t have to be cured to be happy. I don’t have to conform to the physical notion of perfection (whatever that is) to be a whole person… Nor am I evil because my legs don’t always work.” 

Viktor’s disability being cured isn’t his “happy ending,” it actually marks the start of his downfall. And it is very easy to push against the dislike toward that writing choice with an assertion that, since his moral failings actually became more prevalent after this transformation, he is not presenting this “miracle cure” trope at all. But that’s not where my issue with it lies. From the start of my acknowledgement of this show, of any of ours, we can see where Viktor’s story ends. His introduction in League of Legends, as a perfection-seeking mad scientist-type who has verged so far from humanity that it’s no longer present in his appearance, is the end from the start. The problem with Season Two of Arcane is the agency they gave him. 

Overall, I, and many others, felt the pacing of the series’s latest installment to be rushed. Season One established our world, characters, and narratives, in a well-paced and comprehensive three-act structure. The show is gritty, dystopian, and quite separate from the aesthetic and accomplishment of its inspiration franchise. Season Two attempts to marry the two worlds, combining these dystopian themes with the more brightly-colored, fast-paced and overpowered combat sci-fi fantasy of the game. In many ways, this transition is brought about. But when it comes to character writing, many characters are given “power-ups” very, very fast and without much exposition, which is the case all-too-relevantly for Viktor. 

Creating an underground cult that worships him as this all-healing messiah may sound like an exaggeration, but I assure you it is not. Viktor’s character is reduced to this tragically gifted silver bullet – his eyes “opened” to the possibilities of his power. Unfortunately, while the grievances with his curing are valid, important, and powerful, the most problematic aspects of his characterization are not visible until his ascendance as this “Machine Herald.”

It’s eugenics. They made him a magical eugenicist. 

His “healing” does not stop at curing the effects of Shimmer’s afflictions, he also extends a glowing hand to one of the accident-disabled characters in the show, Councilor Salo. The man is injured in the same attack that left Viktor unresponsive: his lower body is injured, leaving him paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Throughout the season, he speaks ill of his predicament, bitterly lamenting that people pity him as he passes. While this depiction of disability is disappointing in a representational sense, it is aligned with Salo’s previous characterizations. We see him reemerge as a member of Viktor’s cult, walking once more.

Visually, this segment of the show is stunning. Pearlescent whites and pastels meet striking golds, but it’s not all positive in terms of symbolism and fulfillment.

White as a symbol of divine purity is ever-present in media and culture, and its use in this segment of the show is… disappointing. Viktor’s character begins exercising more seemingly-benign control over his followers, speaking through their lips with presumed consent. His role evolves even further into a religious one, with his followers guiding people to him in a sickeningly utopian manner.

Viktor becomes naive, his power corrupting his morality, but we do not see this. We are told it. 

To skip ahead, in the finale of this show, at a final confrontation between two men who we first met as fresh-faced lab partners, Viktor is wielding unthinkable power. He is taking control of people by force, tendrils of astral light claiming their bodies. His army of mechanical, impossibly fast drones made from the bodies of his former followers target Jayce and our protagonists with sickening force. (I’m not even going to get into why it’s just a little unwise to have the eugenics minded, all-powerful, deity-like, “cured” white man control an army of mindless white-and-gold supersoldiers. You can think that one over yourself.) 

Viktor and Jayce have one final confrontation, an astral-projected, sickly sweet rivalry’s culmination. It’s beautiful, as so much of the show is, but the dialogue made me stop in my tracks. 

Despite how fueled this ramble has been, I was only mildly irritated with Arcane’s treatment of Viktor until this moment – I had hope for the finale, as they had crafted such a masterful story with the first season. 

Jayce, looking at Viktor, says: “You’ve always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses. Your leg. Your disease. But you were never broken, Viktor. There is beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything… I admired about you.” This statement isn’t wrong, it isn’t outwardly hurtful. But it strips Viktor of every ounce of agency he has had before this moment. In Season One, he had meaningful dialogue about his disability, and heartbreakingly beautiful scenes in pursuit of a cure. This statement of Jayce’s upends that, and it’s being heralded as one of the most touching moments of the show.

The duo’s connection is moving. Jayce’s seemingly relentless pursuit of survival puts him face to face with the man he saw as a friend. But this statement, as touching as it sounds, moves a disabled character’s narrative from heartbreaking and soft-spoken to brash and clumsy. 

The term “disabled” is often critiqued by an able-bodied audience. It is seen as negative, because the greatest failing society can come up with is being disadvantaged. Alternatives are posed, like “differently-abled” and “handicapable,” words that undermine the work disabled people do to define ourselves by our own terms. 

We do not hear about Viktor’s thoughts from him. We see him attempt to cure himself, we see him refer to himself as disadvantaged, “crippled,” even. But Jayce, in his final moments of connection with Viktor, essentially tells him that “what makes [him] different makes [him] special.” It isn’t a bad sentiment, and I may seem like a total pessimist to view it as such. However, the reclamation of identity was taken away from the disabled character and used to further relationship. This line, in any other context, would’ve been sweet. Jayce, telling Viktor that there isn’t anything wrong with him, but Viktor was seeking to cure a terminal illness. He would’ve died, without the completion of his arc, if he had allowed these symptoms to progress.

The compassion is so deeply misplaced that it feels comical. 

The writers of this show had a few choices, in order to get Viktor to his rightful conclusion. They could’ve had him compete with his destiny, showing restraint, remorse, anything. They could’ve had him do a complete 180, his character shifting as a result of his corruption. But they settled for a slow, steady, and silent decline. He isn’t given dialogue, he isn’t given clear motive other than his placement as a messiah.

I’m not saying I’m a better writer than anyone on the team of this show, far from it. I’m also not saying I speak for all physically disabled folks. But the direction of Viktor’s writing was such a distinct departure from a well-constructed and thought-out disabled character to a comedic caricature of inspiration-porn meets “evil cripple.” 

My opinion isn’t shared by most people who enjoy this show. The online commentary of this issue is overpowered by floods of “Jayvik” (the romantic relationship between Jayce and Viktor) enthusiasts who see Jayce’s proclamation to Viktor as endlessly homoerotic. Sure, like what you like. But the writing of the show asserts this dynamic in a way that reduces Viktor from conflicted to lukewarm, and Jayce from conflicted to righteous. It’s not tactful, it’s not good representation, and it removes the little representation disabled people do have.

I don’t think Viktor’s transformation should’ve been neglected in favor of “progressivity.” I think he deserves to be angry, to use this power in a way that he sees as fit. But his conflict is not adequately explored, and the surrounding symbolism is anything but elegant. Viktor, in Season Two, feels more like a plot device than a character, a symbol of unwieldy power that is only brought up when necessary. He serves as an accessory to the plot, and, in the fan-sphere, an accessory to Jayce. 

As I reflect on the series, I find myself wishing that we were able to see Viktor angry. To see him corrupted willingly, acknowledging of the fact that Piltover made him what he is– that his destruction is a direct result of the societal inaction that created his disability. The cause of his disability being corruption and negligence is brushed over when he is given the ability to heal, even though this healing takes place in the Undercity. He becomes pliant, amoral, and perfection-seeking in a blind and harmful way.

Giving Viktor the chance to be cruel, to shout that his destruction was caused by a world that failed him, could have provided him the agency that he was robbed of. But at the end of the day, he is a character added to the long list of individuals presented as good representation, but turned over by an able-bodied narrative. The acknowledgement of his accomplishment comes about in the moral boosting of his partner, and he is stripped of his advocacy.

Or maybe I’m just reading too much into a show about League of Legends. See ya.

Sources and References:

Nijkamp, Marieke. “The Trope of Curing Disability.” Disability in Kidlit, 7 Mar. 2014, disabilityinkidlit.com/2014/03/07/marieke-nijkamp-the-trope-of-curing-disability/.

Young, Stella. “I’m Not Your Inspiration, Thank You Very Much/Inspiration Porn and the Objectification of Disability” Stella Young: I’m Not Your Inspiration, Thank You Very Much | TED Talk, Apr. 2014, www.ted.com/talks/stella_young_i_m_not_your_inspiration_thank_you_very_much/transcript. 

Note from the guy who wrote this: I know I’m biased, guys. I watched this show and wrote this essay at the height of an awful illness flare that has absolutely influenced my read. But I really, really had hope for this series. I don’t think Season Two is entirely without merit, I actually really enjoyed Jinx and Vi’s storyline, as well as the tie-ins with Sevika and Ekko. But in the online fan space right now, it is IMPOSSIBLE to navigate the internet without Jayvik. I am not even that against the ship itself I just… ugh. I was hoping for better from them. I really was. Anyways enjoy my rage-fueled ramble, I wrote this in an hour and a half. It’s hardly an essay, and I’m not really going to edit it, so here it goes.

Thank you for reading, if you reached the end. I don't typically post my writing like this, but there is a sore lack of critical discussion of Viktor post s2.