What’s a monster? What makes something monstrous? Who decides what’s monstrous and what isn’t?
While studying Frankenstein for my Gothic novel class in junior year of college, I remember a discussion we had in class about the state of monstrosities and monsters. We concluded that monsters are those outcast from society, those who don’t or can’t fit within our established social norms and who, for the sake of our society’s collective health and safety, must be pushed away. Even typing that sentence brings back memories of reading “The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas,” or other dystopian short stories about utopias gone wrong. I get the idea behind outcasting monsters, and I understand the rationale behind preserving safety above all else, but in my heart I always sympathize with people or things who are rudely pre-determined as being monstrous. When someone’s committed a crime, of course that makes sense. But this level of predetermining monstrousness is beyond me. I don’t know why. Alex probably shares this feeling with me, considering she reads so many novels about serial killers and psychopaths and what have you. Hopefully that’s the case, otherwise I’m not sure why she’s so interested in those stories. It bewilders me!
This post will, hopefully, finally, serve as an introduction to me discussing the Monster Hunter series in a bit more length. I haven’t had the chance to talk much about it since I started playing, and it’s occupied a lot of my time (but not as much as Persona, of course). The entire game is full of monsters, actual beasts that you are tasked with slaying with various weapons that completely alter the game’s flow, objectives, and gameplay. It’s a wonderful experience being able to seamlessly switch between weapons at your camp and just merge into a new playstyle off the bat.