A few weeks ago, when discussing Animal Crossing, I mentioned that part of the initial appeal of the game for me was simply wanting to be a part of something bigger than myself, wanting to “speak that new shared social language.” I think that desire has always been a part of me, and is a part of most of humanity, but in times like these, when a global pandemic has physically isolated most of us, that desire is stronger than ever. And while I generally think that the desire to belong is one of mankind’s most natural and understandable traits, and that fulfilling it rather necessary, wanting to belong can be dangerous and destructive, too.
That last statement is spurred on by my reread of Memetic, a 2014 horror comic by James Tynion IV and Eryk Donovan. The first installment in Tynion and Donovan’s “Apocalypse Trilogy,” Memetic tells the story of an internet meme that has, buried beneath it, a hypnotic, mind-altering power, which uses the internet’s ability to spread information to the entire planet in an instant to bring on the end of the world in just three days. Given the general state of, well, everything, it’s probably no surprise that Memetic was the very first story that came to mind as I started contemplating all the media I wanted to revisit while in quarantine.
It’s not just our own little Covid-apocalypse that makes Memetic so relevant, though. Look at the way we pass around misinformation faster than the facts can even be compiled, much less released. Look at the folks injecting bleach in an attempt to cure Covid just because the President tells them to. It shows the danger of information traveling so quickly, and the dangers of trusting blindly, or even moreso in the case of our current President, of wanting to belong, or feeling like you already belong, to a certain “club” so badly that you’ll do anything, no matter how stupid, to be a part of it. The world we’re currently living in makes Memetic look downright prophetic.
In Memetic, the information being passed around at first isn’t anything as serious as what we’re currently dealing with; it’s a silly little picture dubbed the “Good Time Sloth.”
Everybody who sees the Good Time Sloth immediately wants to share it with as many people as possible. They post it on every corner of the internet, slather its posters all over town, put it on TV and every public screen possible, share it with all their friends, etc. It is, quite literally, a compulsion.
While real life isn’t this extreme, a huge component of our memes is the fact that they not only spread like wildfire, but are meant to be shared. The interesting thing about memes to me is that, while the best are funny on their own, most take a little bit of work to understand. Many work on multiple levels, requiring a knowledge of the context, the media being parodied, and often several other separate memes. Understanding a meme feels a bit like being part of an exclusive club, but unlike every other club, group, or fandom I’ve really been around, memes never feel exclusionary. Instead, we want to bring others into the club too, taking joys in finding others who get the joke the way we do. Hell, sending memes (“This made me think of you!”) is practically my love language.
Memes bring people together, make people a part of something larger than themselves, even if that something is just a kid standing on the street with his hands folded or a cat asking for a cheeseburger. All Memetic does is take that fact to the extreme. It also eventually turns everybody who sees the Good Time Sloth into a screaming, mindless drone, but even then, those drones’ only desires are to continue to spread the meme, and to eventually congregate together and combine their bodies into giant meat spires that reach up and touch the sky.
It’s awesomely gruesome stuff, but at its core, it’s about the way people want to belong so badly that they’ll try to belong even when it’s not in their best interests.
In the center of this all lies the series’ protagonist, Aaron Sumner. Aaron’s so colorblind he can only see one shade of blue; he’s deaf, and even with his hearing aids, is very limited in the tones and range he can hear; he’s also gay. Needless to say, Aaron’s never once in his life felt like he’s belonged, and this continues even as the Good Time Sloth ravages the world. Because of his vision Aaron can’t see the meme properly; because of his his hearing, he can’t hear fully hear the howls of the infected. Aaron’s immune.
Most other series would probably use Aaron’s immunity to make him the big hero, but not Memetic; instead, this role falls to Colonel Marcus Shaw, whose macular degeneration keeps him safe from the meme just long enough to launch an, ultimately doomed, counterattack. Aaron’s immunity does keep him safe for a while, but in the meantime the series seems to suggest that Aaron’s inability to belong is a flaw, not a strength. Aaron’s boyfriend, Ryan, tells Aaron that he could have always belonged if he really wanted to. Later on, Aaron rescues a little girl trapped in an apartment; he thinks that she wants to be saved from the hoards roaming the streets, but instead, she wants to join them.
Again, belonging or not is presented as a choice, one the little girl is making and Aaron is not.
Eventually, though, as all hope is lost and the world is crumbling down around him, Aaron does decide to belong. He strips off his clothes, climbs that giant meat spire, and purposely gives himself over to the meme — and as he becomes one with it, we see Aaron weeping tears of joy. Finally, he feels what everybody else feels. Finally, he’s a part of something. Aaron found belonging; all it took was the end of the world.
That this is both a happy and a sad ending for Aaron is, I think, the point. Many who find legitimate joy in belonging find it by belonging to something destructive. Aaron chose something he knew would hurt him, but was driven by loneliness and desperation, and that’s all too familiar. The rest of humanity was driven by the meme to come together, but even that more forced, manufactured compulsion has its similarities to the corporations, governments, and religions that prey upon people’s weaknesses in order to recruit them. Some people want to badly to belong that they’ll join groups that teach them to hate others for no reason, to give up their own rights and safety for the sake of profit, to shun their own children — to drink the Kool Aid, be it literal or metaphorical.
Yet, finding a place you belong — finding your tribe, your found family, a group or a cause that really speaks to you — can also be the most fulfilling thing ever. The internet allows hate and misinformation to disseminate the entire planet in moments, indulges obsession and abuse, and indoctrinates our kids. The internet also helps people keep in touch and make new, otherwise impossible connections, brings hidden injustices to light, and exposes old and young alike to new, valuable viewpoints, fostering empathy. What Memetic seems to be saying (and what Tynion and Donovan essentially confirm in the final issue’s commentary) is that the type of connectivity we live with these days isn’t good or bad, it simply is. We, as a society, choose what to do with it. To put it simply: memes have the power to save, or destroy, us all.
CHECK OUT
In this rough time you might be looking to escape the apocalypse through your choice of entertainment, but if you’re the type to instead embrace the darkness, Memetic is a great way to scratch that itch. Actually, Tynion has an excellent variety of horror comics, all released by BOOM! Comics, that seem particularly timely right now. The two follow-ups (both also with Eryk Donovan) to Memetic continue to use the end of the world to explore big themes, be it Cognetic’s debate on individuality or Eugenic’s harrowing tale of the toll even the most well-intentioned of eugenics can take on endless generations. The Woods (with artist Michael Dialynas) is a 36 issue sci-fi/horror/teenage drama about a high school that is mysteriously teleported to an alien moon, forcing its students to survive its savage terrain and wildlife while attempting to integrate into an entirely new society. Tynion’s current series, with artist Werther Dell'Edera, is Something Is Killing the Children, a dark and chilling tale of a town plagued by monsters targeting its young, and the secret society whose duty it is to destroy them. I’m a big fan of each and every one of these.
ABOUT
“Do You Know What I Love the Most?” is a newsletter from Spencer Irwin. Spencer is an enthusiast and writer from Newark, Delaware, who likes punk rock, comic books, working out, breakfast, and most of all, stories. His previous work appeared on Retcon Punch, One Week One Band, and Crisis on Infinite Chords, and he can be found on Twitter at @ThatSpenceGuy. If you like this newsletter, please subscribe and share with your friends!