Beethoven Analysis – Piano Sonata in C (Op. 2)

I still feel sketchy when analyzing the melody or thematic material. Otherwise, my formal and harmonic analysis is fine. I may not analyze any more sonatas or only sonatas I really like since it may take a year to analyze them all and I would really like to compose my own music thank you very much. Improving my own skills is the reason I do such tedious work in the first place. Beethoven’s 3rd sonata is a brilliant finish to a unique triplet of works, each showing very different moods. The Fm sonata was tragic and brooding, the D sonata was lyrical, the C sonata is vivid and dazzling; it’s virtuoso score hints at piano concerto material.

As usual, a complete formal and harmonic analysis of the piano sonata is in the video above, an overview of the sonata’s overall form below.

Form of C (Op. 2)

0:00 The 1st movement, in sonata form, has the most distinct piano concerto feel to it, since the transitioning passages do look very much like a piano accompaniment to an orchestra. The main subject on the other hand is not that energetic by itself but does have enormous potential energy, which Beethoven exploits by setting it off like dynamite. Unlike with the earlier sonatas, Beethoven’s doesn’t focus so much on the main subject; most of the music in this movement sounds like stock set of riffs Beethoven used to improvise, which he did a lot early in his career.

9:30 The 2nd movement is far off in the mediant key of E, a relation we see for the first time. The movement itself is made of two very different characters; the first one is a rather complex lyrical melody Beethoven goes out of his way to leave unresolved, the second character devotes the left hand for a singing baseline with dotted rhythms lifted from the first character while the right hand plays arpeggios similar to those of a Baroque prelude.

16:40 The 3rd movement has cheeky scherzo that uses F# and starts the downbeat at A, which confuses the key of C major. The scherzo consists of a descending subject that changes registers (and hands) as it keeps going down the keyboard. Meanwhile, other voices join it in counterpoint, often based on the playful turn at the very beginning. The minor trio is more conventional; the right hand plays triplet arpeggios while the left hand plays a simple base. The coda is built on the Bdim-C cadence (vii/I) as opposed to the more usual G7-C cadence (V7/I). All this is subtle humor on Beethoven’s part but sadly most of the jokes are lost to us as we don’t understand the language of sonata form like Beethoven and friends did. It’s hard to get parodies and jokes when you don’t speak the language fluently.

19:57 The 4th movement is an extensive rondo as Beethoven returns to the main subject over and over again, changing it in many different ways, while departing from it afterward in a new direction almost each time. What you get is a pretty complicated rondo, so complicated you could even see sonata form elements in it, complete with two expositions, a long development section, two recapitulations, and a coda. Beethoven, as I said before, wanted to give the finale of a piece the most weight, and tried different ideas throughout his career. He often settled this problem in his early days by expanding the rondo by making it more like a sonata.

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Beethoven Analysis – Piano Sonata in A (Op. 2)

This sonata gave me a real headache. Anyway, this is the second of three Beethoven piano sonatas in Op. 2. This work is light, lyrical, and witty, as opposed to the dark and tragic Fm sonata. But don’t be fooled! The A sonata is more complex and difficult as Beethoven plays with mediant (III) and submediant (VI) keys a lot, frequently leaping to them. He also likes to leap to the supertonic (ii) and flattened subtonic (VIIb), which are both a M2nd away.

A complete formal and harmonic analysis of the piano sonata is in the video above, an outline of the overall form below.

Form of A (Op. 2)

00:00 – The first movement plays a lot with downward triads and running up and down the scale, usually with a lot of counterpoint. Beethoven is fond of leaping by the III or VI in the subordinate subject, as well delaying the harmony from changing alongside the melody, which makes the keys more ambiguous. Beethoven leaps down the VI especially in the development and the subordinate subject in the recapitulation.

11:11 – The second movement suggests definite instruments; muted trombones and string bases in the main subject. Beethoven bases the whole melody of the main subject on peaking it at B4 and F#5, then taking it down. This is the basic structure to many classical melodies but Beethoven takes it to an extreme. The developments in Bm and D are in typical keys. The first development is based on the descending scale, a contrast to the main theme.

17:32 – The scherzo of the third movement is based on a rising arpeggio while the trio is based on a descending scale, like so much other material in this sonata in all the Op. 2 sonatas. Beethoven takes the development of the scherzo all the way to G#m (vii), an extreme place to go relative to A. The development of the trio is in C, a far less distant key relative to A.

22:18 – The last movement is very long and substantial for a rondo, showing that Beethoven is unhappy with the overall structure of sonatas. The minuet and rondo are usually short and light in content, which is lopsided considering how large and important the sonata form in the first movement is. The early Beethoven’s attempts to solve this problem involve making the last movement either sonata form or lengthy rondos, such as this movement. Save the best for last as the saying goes.

The main subject is an operatic dip from E6 all the way down to G4 or F#4, and is the most striking subject of the entire sonata. This movement may be the most gentle and lyrical of the entire sonata but it is the most complex and difficult as Beethoven leaps to the III and VI keys more than in any other movement. The “development” sections explore the dotted motif of the main subject while the “transition” turns the 16th note ascension of the main subject in all sorts of directions; descending down the scale, arpeggios, turns etc.

Beethoven Analysis – Piano Sonata in Fm (Op. 2)

Beethoven’s first published piano sonata is far longer and more complex than his Kurfursten sonatas, and we see the mature Beethoven for the first time. His basic musical tastes, harmonies, and means of developing material stay firmly in place despite him transforming through three different styles. We also see Haydn’s influence in using a few notes (like the Mannheim rocket) as a base to build the entire movement. Beethoven composed this sonata when he was only 25.

A complete formal and harmonic analysis of the piano sonata is in the video above, a general outline of the form is below.

Form of Fm (Op. 2)

00:00 – The 1st movement uses the Mannheim rocket for its main subject and its inversion for the first subordinate subject. He uses the melody to create a hard dissonance (m2nd) against the harmony of the base. He blurs harmonies a lot with his “triplets” in the second subordinate subject.

5:38 – The 2nd movement is made from recycled material from an unpublished piano trio, but now the material is more complex and is developed more. It features complex melodies with a strong emphasis on rising and falling and a sighing motif. Beethoven is also fond of mixing a chord in the base with a note in the treble that implies the chords’ subdominant. Like in the 1st movement, he cadences with an 11 chord.

10:28 – The 3rd movement has has a murky feeling. The minuet is in Fm, yes, but it doesn’t sound like such a clear, tragic minor piece, because Beethoven uses Bbm (ii) a lot along with Fm. His orchestration as it were is frequently is in 4 parts, suggesting a string quartet. The trio is more straightforward, using a chromatic C-Bh-Bb descent in its latter parts.

13:13 – The 4th movement is volcanic, with less restraint than the other movements, as if Beethoven saving the pent up energy for the last movement. It’s main subject makes great use of 1st-7th-1st notes, a simple cadence, with V9 and viihalfdim chords. The transition is very dense, with many different harmonies squeezed into one measure, like Beethoven is trying his hardest not to play I-V. The subordinate subject is in a minor key (Cm, Fm) but frequently stays in the mediant (III) (Eb, Ab). The long downward scales give a dramatic, tragic feeling to the music, a falling down to ruin.

Yugioh the Dark Dimension – Duel 1

Duel 1 – Gathering the Metals

Matthew lunged at Xiaoyi, who held his dear Alexis hostage, only to have the awful woman bat him away by smacking him in the face, as if he was but a large beetle; the astonishing force from the small woman landed him facedown in the sand, scorching his face. Matthew Howard Carter, one of the wealthiest men in New York City, virtual center of the world, heir to his grandfather’s fortune as former curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, former American National Champion, lost everything, as small and lost as an insect in the barren land far from home. His brown hair and tanned skin did little to protect him from the harsh sun and sand.

Xiaoyi, small and pale with a large head, features as fine as those of a porcelain doll, gave little regard to the red sunburn mounting on her cheeks like a blush, even seeming to enjoy the fiery sun above her. Matthew could not look at her without shielding his face with his hands for the sun made her long black hair burn with a bright light. Xiaoyi gripped Alexis, Matthew’s lover of many years by the hair, as black as hers, almost to the point of ripping it off her pale head, but Xiaoyi was deaf to her captive’s tears, giving Matthew a steady gaze with her dark brown eyes.

Her temperament phlegmatic, she spoke to him as if she read his thoughts, “No, Gregory, you couldn’t escape your plight even if you transformed into a bug and burrowed in the sand. Your failure to defeat the Saints, to even defeat your high school friend, doesn’t sit well with me. Frankly, I think you’re problem lies with motivation. While I’m no life coach I would like you to be more proactive in your career. You’re the boss of the Ghouls, aren’t you? I know Seeker, Umbra, Lumis, and Keith are all dead – God bless their souls their job was a huge commitment – but they would feel entitled to a promotion over you. They worked at their job for over a decade but the kid with the trust fund gets to be boss instead. I’d say it’s a little unfair too.”

Matthew threw a fistful of sand at Xiaoyi in a fit of rage, only for the woman to laugh at him, as aloof and cruel as the sun itself. But he, above it all, knew who to truly hate. Maya ruined his life. If the insolent fiend only accepted her loss at New York’s Duel Academy with dignity, she would never have formed an antimeta team with her degenerate high school friends, then she would never have dethroned him in the Nationals, then he would never have fallen into a pit of morose self-pity, then Xiaoyi and Gernand would never have come to his doorstop, then he wouldn’t fight Maya and her comrades again, then he would never be groveling in the sand as a scarab beetle. His downward spiral was an arrow, pointing straight to Maya. Everything stemmed from her.

Xiaoyi again seemed to have read his mind for she asked quizzically, “What if you let her win and enter the Academy?” then enjoyed herself watching Matthew violently reject even considering the idea of a different future. “Cheer up, kid. The scarab beetle is a symbol of eternal life but whether you become Gregory or are reborn again as a god is you’re choice. Pretentious Kafka references aside, not like you ever cared, remember that I gave you all your dark powers.” Matthew opened his shirt, revealing the palm-shaped black mark reminding him of his dark pact with her, the pact that gave him the power to use Horus the Black Flame Dragon as his Ka, his monster spirit as direct manifestation of his creative life force. Xiaoyi concluded, “You are linked to me by a red thread. Your thoughts are my thoughts and if I die so do you, so think twice before attacking me.”

She threw an dagger sheath coated with gold between his knees. “King Tut’s own dagger, forged from the iron of outer space, not like the incest-ridden gimp will need it anymore. Pretty cool, isn’t it?” She violently pointed at Alexis’ chest. “Use it to kill this whore. Severe the very last tie you have to another human being and you will truly be a man with nothing to lose, only then will you have the strength to destroy Maya and reclaim your life.” When Matthew hesitated, Xiaoyi barked so severely it shocked him. “DO IT! Kill her quickly or I will kill her slowly.”

Matthew stood up, picked up the dagger, trembling, his hand wavering, unable to step forward. Xiaoyi rolled her eyes, annoyed she had to further motivate the spoiled brat. She tore out Alexis’ left eye, Matthew heard a clear pop and Alexis shrieking in pain and terror, watched frozen in terror as Xiaoyi popped it into her mouth, chewed it carefully, swallowed it. When Matthew still refused to act, Xiaoyi tore out and gobbled Alexis’ other eye, frozen once more by his lovers’ screams. Xiaoyi pulled the unhappy woman up, licking the blood and tears off her face with enthusiasm. “The hero needs an inciting incident before undergoing his quest!”

Now blinded, Alexis could take it no longer. “Kill me, Matthew!” She implored to him. “Take your revenge on Maya to reclaim your life! I will do anything, even lose my life, to see you happy again!” Matthew slowly paced to her, his blood so frozen he felt cold in the middle of the desert. Alexis could no longer see him but she gripped Matthew’s hand tight with one hand, caressed his tearful face with another, and told him goodbye. Matthew stabbed her in the heart with the dagger of kings, relieved to see her die so quickly, then attacked Xiaoyi in rage only for her to smack the dagger out of his hands and point it at his throat.

“Destroy Maya and everyone else who challenges you in a shadow game, your dark powers will increase enough so you may challenge me. Follow this path if you want to kill me.” Matthew collapsed to the ground in sobs, knowing there was nothing else he could do, but learned to embrace his fate. In his despair he found a small hope, that perhaps he could shed his old skin as the beetle does and emerge into a better person with a better life. That hope was all he had left.

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Meanwhile, off in the distance, hiding behind a ruined temple wall, a man named Hannibal Davis saw the whole terrible ordeal. He checked to see was in the clear, he dashed into his van and drove at a furious pace to Cairo airport, wiping the sweat off the stubble on his round tan face, the grease off his curly dark hair, airing his round overweight body with his shirt, all caused by nervousness less than the heat itself. He stumbled to the airport gate, himself a tournament finalist, telling the news to none other than the Saints themselves.

Mathias, the Saint’s leader, a gentle giant, dropped his slice of Buffalo Chicken Pizza, the gaiety of the Saints evaporated. A resilient, gregarious man, almost nothing could fade Mathias Blackheart, except something like this. His comrades; the small, thin, red-headed Maximus, and the fit, equally fiery-headed Ivy, knew everything Mathias did. Long before the tournament began, the Headmaster of their Irish monastery foretold to them the prophecies of Revelations; he predicted a Red Dragon, sired by Zorc Necrophades the Satan and demiurge of this world, rising from a fiery pit to destroy humankind, a woman clothed in sun giving birth to the Savior who will defeat the Red Dragon after a long war over the fate of the human race.

The Red Dragon is none other than Matthew Carter, Mathias thought to himself, since he wielded Horus the Black Flame Dragon as his Ka. The woman clothed in sun is Maria Wight, fair as the daystar, holding the power of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon within her, and the Savior the son she would one day have with Seto Kaiba. But these answers did not satisfy him. His own Ka was none other than Horus the Black Flame Dragon as well. Was he the Red Dragon? Impossible! A righteous man like him could never be a minion of the Devil! He eyed Maximus with glaring suspicion, his brother in arms wielded Shining Swordswoman, did that entitle him to the role as the Archangel Michael and the privilege of smiting the Devil? Maximus always wanted to surpass him as a duelist but in now way would Mathias give him this right even if he did become the better duelist!

Mathias told his comrades he needed a break, that too much pizza made you shit worse than eating too many chilidogs. He patted Maximus in the shoulder, whispered in his ear, “Don’t get too proud or your hubris will be your downfall.” leaving Maximus bewildered. He was almost out of earshot when Maximus reminded him behind is back, “Same applies to you.”

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Stella Nova joined Maya by the airport window. The two women, of similar height and temperaments, seemed a bit like long lost sororal twins on virtue of looking as different as the sun and the moon. Stella was a woman of handsome features with a prominent nose, both hair and eyes falsely colored pink by dyes and contacts, wearing a tie-dye shirt and jeans that closely hugged her body. “Are you ready for the finals?” She tentatively asked Maya, who said she didn’t know, and Stella replied, “Not so sure either.”

Maya turned to her counterpart to talk about politics, one of their favorite subjects, to get her apprehensions out of her mind. Most people saw politics as rather serious and grown-up but Maya saw how experience trumped popular belief; she found politics to be the most childish and frivolous thing in the world, and far easier to handle than her hidden thoughts. The obvious proof was in watching politicians and celebrities do their work. You may say the errors of leaders lead to war and suffering of all kinds, but the grave cost of buffoons’ mistakes only adds to the farce. But then politics reminded Maya of how she murdered Heishin in cold blood and would rather not think of that either. She was trapped.

Stella noticed one man and several women in black burqa’s pass by them, seeming to view the two duelists with caution and mistrust, a rightful attitude since Pegasus and Kaiba exploited Egypt for its history and current turmoil for publicity while Heishin himself wanted more tourist revenue, and Maya said as much. Stella told Maya her outrage, “It’s horrible how people in America, Britain, and even Germany are talking about banning burqas. People of nonwhite ethnicities have the right to cultural expression and should not be culturally oppressed by laws coming from such problematic normative perspectives.”

Maya turned around, not to see if the one man and several women were still around but to see if any of Stella’s fanbase was present, unlikely as it was. She gave Stella a funny look, when Stella asked what was the problem she obliged, “Stop talking like a columnist from Jezebel. I sometimes wonder if you’re making a PR move when you say such canned phrases. No feminist fan is here to judge you for using the wrong pronouns or judge me for appropriating my mother’s own culture when in high school. I want to know what you really think.”

Stella hugged Maya instead until they were uncomfortably close. “We slept together more than once before you got a boyfriend but no matter how close we got we always felt far apart; I always feel a certain small desperate loneliness that can never be bridged. I sometimes think it has something to do with being a progressive celebrity for so many naïve kids.”

This struck a chord within Maya who had a similar feeling deep inside; she could never let down her guard to reveal what was really inside her because if she became weak someone would hurt her, like father did, sometimes even mother, and like many clever animals built a wall to protect herself. But she wanted to reach out across the infinite void that is between two minds to make contact but she could never do it, she never even dared. Instead she pressured Stella to tell her true opinion about burqas only to have Stella push her away. Another conversation on politics became fruitless, no surprise there at all.

Maya by returned to her dear friends Yukio and Sophia to play dominoes Yukio brought along with them. Maya may have been their best duelist but she was terrible at dominoes, loosing every game. She scratched her head in bewildered amusement, wondering what was going on, “I’m getting a brick hand so bad like I did in Duelists Orochi 2.” Making Yukio and Sophia laughed at her in good cheer, Yukio saying, “You’re overthinking it. It’s just dominoes.”

Maya scanned the faces of her friends. Yukio, tall and stringy, with short spiky black hair, some black stubble, and an idealists’ light in his eyes, glinted with mischief. Sophia, of pale but average body, dark red hair tied in a single compact braid, impressionable dark brown eyes, and introspective look, had the same mischievous shade on her face. “You two must be working together to beat me.” She leapt behind them to see their hidden dominoes for herself. The plot revealed, she shouted, “The conspiracy is real!”

“You mean like that one made by that fartknocker Alex Jones where the Illuminati are making kids gay by putting estrogen in their juice cartons?”

“Yes, Beavis.”

“No, I’m the Butthead of the group. I’m more cool and rational. You’re the impulsive lunatic, Beavis.”

“Butthead is rational?”

“Relatively speaking, yes.”

Sophia had to roll her eyes at them for their mock argument. “Speaking of which,” she commented. “You dorks are more like Rex and Weevil than you know.” inciting Maya and Yukio to protest such an absurd and slanderous idea before debating between each other whether the flat earth theory or the hollow earth theory was the dumbest conspiracy in existence. Sophia vouched for one conspiracy an ignorant woman posted on YouTube claiming rainbows in the mist made by backyard sprinklers was from the government putting something in the water supply. Maya and Yukio gave her a gold medal for effort but dismissed her in the end.

The trio heard Maria gliding away at the piano near a café, something Maya could tell by the choice of music and playing style – Her eyes may sometimes fail her but her ears never did – and saw the Saints and a few other people crowd around her. Maria, Maya judged, was very much a musician of the later Romantic style; playing slowly, using the pedal as if the piano was a car, long arching lyrics, her face contorting into all manner of expressions. She played some fine Tchaikovsky and Chopin indeed, with all the Victorian malaise of a House of Mourning. Maya could almost hear the coughing of the sensitive artist with consumption, too good for this cruel world.

Maria finished, the Saints cheered, Maya as well, she asked Maria for her turn to play. Maria, tall and fair as a statue, an albino with pensive blue eyes, brushed by Maya with typical aloof contempt, like Maya was someone horribly offensive by her very existence. Maya returned the gesture with typical defiance and wit. Maya thundered on the piano with her own repertoire of Cherubini and Beethoven, her face showing concentration but otherwise betraying no emotion. Maria judged Maya to be using Classical and early Romantic styles; with a fast and vivid tempo, crisp, dynamic volumes and colors with lightning fast transitions, forceful and deliberate use of rhythm. Oh yes, the vain noise and pride of Lucifer before the fall, much like so many radicals in that period, cruel and ugly, making light of things that should be beyond humor, disrespectful to the natural laws of art. The Saints cheered for Maya when she finished her program like they did for Maria.

The contest continued, the two duelists rotating from one new piece after all, determined to wear the other down. Yukio and Hannibal were impressed with witnessed the two lionesses bite and scrape the other. “By Jove himself, it’s as if Minverva and Ishtar fought for the title of wisest and most powerful goddess!” Hannibal couldn’t help himself from stammering. Yukio put his hand on Hannibal’s arm, “Calm down, dude. No woman is worth worshipping.” And before Hannibal could object to such a sexist claim Yukio quickly added, “Men even less so.”

Three hours passed, the combatants not quite exhausted but starting to get there. Maya had no choice but to play the wild card she kept in store until this very moment. Maya decided to play her second favorite piece of music, Handel’s Suite in Bb, Beethoven’s Große Fugue being her first, Joplin’s Maple Leaf Rag being her third. She danced with Handel, enthusiastic but graceful and light on her feet, going through the prelude, sonata, and variations. Now she arrived at the minor minuet she decided now to take a completely different direction, the improvisations she made up in her mind during the whole contest would now be unleashed. She played a minor variation of Handel’s theme, similar to the minuet itself in form but different in substance, then a minor singing variation, then bursting the tension with a violent tarantella. She returned to Bb to play more variations, each one faster and more volcanic than the last one – she would not let Maria win! – until she came to playing small dotted rhythms and 64th notes triplets – “Ack!” Maya clutched her cramped wrist but quickly went back, playing the last bars of her last variation, before clasping her wrist again.

Everyone applauded, except Maria who turned away from the crowd, thinking Maya vastly overstepped her bounds. It was mortal sin for a performer to play outside the composer’s intentions, as if someone today could dare suggest to a genius of the past. No Handel or Beethoven existed today because people like that are no longer born in our decadent age. Mathias threw Maya’s afflicted hand into the air to announce her victor only to cramp Maya’s arm by accident, Maya taking the pain in stride. All this only revealed the philistine, vulgar, and shallow attitudes of modern times, the crowd whooping as if at the circus.

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Weevil Underwood and Rex Raptor, Weevil being our remaining finalist, were doing less dignified things. “Goddamn it Rex I need to use the bathroom! I gotta’ PEE!” Weevil jumped up and down like a grasshopper; his teal blue hair, molded in a Beatles haircut, and his huge round green glasses bouncing with him.

“We’re getting there, butt-muncher.” Rex said as he evened out his dirty aged red beanie and scratched his long greasy brown hair.

“Up yours, asswipe!” Weevil met Rex, his narrow squinting blue eyes meeting Rex’s sharp brown ones. The two got lost in their quest for the public bathroom, Weevil now almost ready to burst.

“Remember that time at Charles de Gaul Airport when we got lost so long you did pee yourself and everybody laughed.” Rex himself chuckled a bit at the fun memory. “Man, that airport looks like a schizophrenic made it.”

“Not helping!” Weevil desperately shouted. They saw a man named Tamas, the last finalist and a nondescript man after his short blond hair and black leather coat, and his teammates play testing each other for the finals. Weevil asked him for directions to the bathroom, Tamas answered, Weevil relieved himself, the two asked Tamas again for directions back to the right gate, Tamas again pointed, the two went their way.

Weevil witnessed the crowd surrounding Maya and Maria and got a wonderful idea, he whispered it to Rex, who grinned at the thought. Weevil promised Rex twenty dollars if he did what he wanted, to which Rex accepted, and he dashed around the airport, pinching every female finalist’s butt. They all yelped, much to Rex and Weevil’s delight. Stella claimed sexual harassment, Maria condemned the horrible disrespect to women, Maya chased after them to beat them up.

“WEEVIL! BUDDY!” Mathias caught Weevil, giving him the biggest bear hug in his live, enjoying watching Weevil squirm in his embrace. The insect shouted, “I have a restraining order and I will sue you as soon as I get home! Rex did it! It was his idea but I told him not to do it because it was sexual harassment punishable by castration and sensitivity training but did he listen? No!”

“You have a home?” Maya said in mock surprise. “You look like a chain-smoking stoner, so I guess you do live under a bridge or in your mother’s basement.”

“Ha ha! Very original!” Weevil tried his best to point at Rex. “There’s the culprit, get him!” Yukio caught Rex by the scruff of his neck, who squirmed under his grasp, babbling everything he could to save himself but nothing helped him. Mathias threw Weevil at Maya, telling her to hold him. “Sometimes you need 1950s parenting.” He remarked. With Weevil and Rex pinned to the wall, he let loose his belt on their asses, cracking it on their butts tender as a baby’s. The two stooges pleaded for mercy but none was given. Weevil threatened to call his lawyer but no one cared. Rex said he would sleep with any woman nice enough to free him, thinking his little trick would work. It didn’t.

Yugioh the Dark Dimension – Prologue

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Welcome to Season 3 of my series (Season 8 of Yugioh), where I will write things differently than before and in a better style. A typical chapter from now on will be five pages at most to have more content in each chapter and spent less time writing, since I dislike the style authors use to write most novels and I simply don’t have the free time now as I did before. I like how less verbal artforms like film, paintings, and games work since they use symbols and actions to give you substance rather than telling everything up front or through tedious dialogue between characters. I hope to translate my ideas in a similar war albeit through writing. I’m trying to explore different ways of writing and conveying more serious ideas so forgive me for being pretentious.

Prologue

She woke in a sudden moment, in her sleeping bag on the airport floor, not from any nightmare that frightened her out of her sleep but from something she did not understand yet. Her sleep, deep and dreamless, was the coma of a person who, after a day of immense suffering and fatigue, falls into for what seems like countless hours, as the infinite sleep a person falls into as she dies or the infinite sleep before birth. A second ago she was not and now at this moment she was. She sat up, hot and sweating from the heat of the sleeping bag and in constant pain from her bruises, burns, and broken ribs; she forgot at all who she was or what happened, and looked around the airport for answers, to piece her shattered self back together, as Atem the lost pharaoh did when recovering his long buried memories.

Nature gave her body of strong build of average height, her powerful hands wide, her fingers long, her nails large. Her face reflected the person behind it: a broad forehead, full cheeks and lips, dark brown eyes as vessels for a burning, fiery light, her skin brown and red, and her hair a lion’s mane of black curly hair. She was Marina Bozuslowsky, daughter of Aleksandar Bozuslowsky and Arifa Masri, but she long shortened her name to Maya Brook. She started dueling as a professional at the age of seventeen, joined her friends JC, Yukio, and Jolene to become national champions and defeat the snobbish rich demagogue Matthew, remained a pro for four more years, entered this world championship tournament to somehow stop the now late Egyptian dictator Heishin and claim the forbidden ancient Book of Isis, and now waited for the tournament finals having succeeded doing both. And she liked playing the piano, writing satires, communism, alternative subcultures, and black cats. “I think I got it about right.” She said to her heart.

Maya hobbled her way to a large pane of class, her breathing aggravated by the broken ribs, to see the outside world. Never before had she seen a sunnier, prettier June morning, nor did she feel a sun comfort her through her black sleeveless shirt and jeans quite like this either. But she did feel a deepening darkness despite it all, a gathering pressure, an electric static before the storm. Too many people died in this tournament from the resurging Ghouls, too many secrets revealed from Mathias and his warrior Saints, and she underwent too much struggle and loss already.

Yet all this struggle, sacrifice, revelation, was merely the tip of the iceberg, the darkness that was to come. Ra-Amun, the sun, shattered the world through his divine powers into stark bright lights and black shadows, a contrast where all stood revealed. It would be high noon; each finalist would smash against the other with everything they had, everything they were in these last duels, and only one person would stand on top. Maya’s whole life was at stake for if she won she would pay off her many dueling and college debts but if she lost she would be in ruin. More importantly, she knew her innovative dueling would not keep her ahead of her competition forever, and she needed to push herself further not just to stay in the game but reach a new creative level. All life was art and war, darkness and heroism. If music taught her anything it was these principles from Beethoven, and the Eroica the finest lesson. Let this heroic journey reach fulfillment at last.

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Pegasus J. Crawford, the man who created Yugioh itself, put himself deep in thought as he quietly sipped his wine in the small dining room of the complex that would be the lodgings for all eight finalists. He went so far as to design each room to reflect the true nature of each respective finalist, putting his great skills as a painter to use, whereby the carpenters, electricians, and plumbers followed his exacting instructions. The dining room, the hub each apartment revolved around, held eight large mirrors that reflected off each other face, creating a prism of infinite refractions within each mirror. Pegasus saw his own self in one mirror; his dandy red business suit, his tall stature, broad shoulders, long fair hair, one brown eye, shattered into shapes he could barely recognize.

Such was the true nature of humankind, where there was no one person in each body but only a labyrinth no Theseus could ever escape. What of the Minotaur at the center? Pegasus amused himself with the idea of seeing it revealed by the finalists playing his very game. The high priests of Egypt extracted Ka monsters from people’s souls and used them in battle for this very purpose; it was one reason Pegasus created this game in the first place. The Millennium Items, magic artifacts smelted from gold and the bodies of ninety-nine sacrifices, used by the high priests for such purposes, were lost, but the Book of Isis, holding one spell used to create the Millennium Items – merely one spell of the many mysteries – was still at large. The evil person who used the Book would cause untold catastrophes, which Pegasus wanted to avoid at every cost. He instinctively reached for his left eye socket but did not find the Millennium Eye he used to have within. He could no longer use its divine powers to see further than mortal eyes could. Now he was just a man and could only use his human powers.

Pegasus left the complex behind with such melancholy thoughts in mind, trotting on the soft sandy ground of the small Pacific Island where the finalists would be held. The warm light, blue sky, and fresh sea did not comfort him but only worsened his mood, the setting sun cut through everything with its harsh light. He thought of Sophia, one of his favorite adopted children and protégés, locked in the dangerous tournament, and hoped she would come out in one piece. Using a refined wooden cane, the debonair Pegasus showed his grit as he slowly climbed his way up a rocky hill and the massive pyramid at the center of the island he built alongside his colleague Kaiba, the battleground every duel would take place, laboring his way to the very top.

Seto Kaiba, the mighty technocrat who singlehandedly drove Yugioh in its modern form with his massive wealth and brilliant inventions, stood tall with his shoulders crossed as a bronze memorial statue, glaring down the pyramid to the white sand, green trees, and blue waves beneath him. Let this tower engrave in history the supreme achievement of the tournament’s winner and prophesize the great events of the future, the imperious Kaiba thought. Here, in this very tower he built, let history be made! He thought back to the first Battle City tournament he hosted thirteen odd years ago, how he also hosted the finals on top of a mighty tower, and watched history form as Atem became the first official world champion. Now he would witness something just as grand in the thirteenth Battle City as the Yugioh game would evolve to an ever higher level.

Pegasus, who finally reached the top, cut Kaiba’s lofty thoughts, “Whew! We should have made a smaller pyramid, Kaiba-boy. I think we made our point.” He patted his damp face with a silk handkerchief before stowing it away in his suit. Kaiba turned his piercing blue eyes to glare at contempt at the annoying man who cut his thoughts with such a frivolous remark. The two men could not have been more different. The gay, effete Pegasus contrasted the severe Kaiba, who had tall and with broad shoulders as Pegasus, yet wirier, donning his battle armor; a black leather body glove with a long white trench coat. He wore this same uniform at the first Battle City and wore it now even though he would not duel. He had a far greater plan, to defeat the very champion of this tournament to take the title of King of Games for himself. Why waste his time in an entire tournament when he would make it to the finals anyway? “Speak! Why are you here?” He demanded at Pegasus.

The debonair man sighed in a knowing way, “Very well, my Wagnerian Ubermensch. I would like to just share the beautiful view with you but, as such simple joys are far beneath the higher man such as yourself, I will get to the point. Beware of the Book of Isis and the people who seek it. It is owned by a finalist, it calls out to me, knowing I once held a Millennium Item. The Ghouls have been thwarted but one dangerous man remains, Matthew Carter. He will enter the finals to claim the Book for himself and avenge his grandfather’s demise, but even if he fails Gernand remains as well as a dark shadow, an evil intelligence I know little about. They are not threats right now but they will be.”

“First of all,” Kaiba scoffed at Pegasus, “The Ubermensch derives from Nietzsche you illiterate old fool. Second, I couldn’t care less about any occult threats lurking under whatever rock they choose to hide in. My tournament is about the future, not the dusty ancient past. You would do well to remember that.”

Pegasus rebounded, “You call me an old fool but look at yourself! You sound exactly like you did thirteen years ago, right down to the ‘I focus on the future’ spiel. You carry the obsessions and grudges you held for literally over a decade. Imagine how bad they would smell if they were food. You are, dare I say, an Ubermensch parody, more like Siegfried than Dionysus. It was this thing called satire. You know, a joke?”

“Jokes are for happy-go-lucky, shallow types who cannot stand the darker sides of life.” Kaiba growled. “Do you want me to destroy you before the finals even take place?”

“I must disagree, Kaiba-boy. Humor let’s us see the extra dimension in our lives as tragic creatures we would otherwise never see and transcend them, and this includes the so-called darker sides of life as well. Only man lives in such horror he needed to invent laughter. You are a tyrant but will never be an artist while I will always be both, and only this type of person can win this tournament.” Pegasus did not budge and inch throughout their entire discussion and, seeing Kaiba’s mild surprise, said, “Yes, who would have thought little old me who created Yugioh in the first place would know so much. You’re constipated character is why you always failed to beat Yugi and why generic antihero rival characters always fail.”

Kaiba became so frigid the very warm air around them dampened. “You’re meaningless foppish words did not move me an inch.” But Pegasus knew it wasn’t true. He had a special talent in annoying Kaiba and nothing amused him more than seeing Kaiba overreact, like watching Donald Duck get mad in a Disney cartoon. Kaiba punched a code on his duel disk, a newer sleeker model that outdated even the new models the finalists had used up to this point, the machine projected a holograph roster of all eight finalists, which Kaiba read out loud.

Matthew Carter
Heir to the Carter Foundation. Twenty-two years old. Has not dueled in a tournament since he lost the nationals in 2005. Dominates the opponent with powerhouse monsters overriding effects, favors Lightsworn and Horus.

Mathias Blackheart
Leader of the Saints, a team of professional duelists based in Ireland. Age unknown. Uses psychological warfare. Favors Nordic Gods and Horus. Teammates are Maximus and Ivy.

Maria Wight
Best duelist of Team A Cappella. Based in the UK. Twenty-three years old. Wins through card control by controlling resources. Uses Normal Pendulum monsters.

Svanhildur “Stella Nova” Minervadottir
Leader of Team Stratosphere. Based in Iceland. Twenty-three years old. Specializes in controlling the field with floater monsters. Favors Yang Zing. Notable teammate is Willow.

Marina “Maya Brook” Bozuslowsky
Best duelist of Team Baby Blast Furnace. Based in Iceland. Twenty-two years old. Used a variety of strategies in her career, now swarms the field to create many high level Extra Deck monsters. Favors banishing cards. Teammates are Yukio and Sophia.

Hannibal Davidson
World-renowned archaeologist and classical scholar. Based in Athens. Thirty-one years old. Uses strategies that spring during the opponent’s turn. Favors Artifacts.

Tamas Varga
Leader of Team Impossible. Based in Hungary. Twenty-eight years old. Uses beatdown. Favors all Dragon-Types. Teammates are Bence and Beze.

Weevil Underwood
Leader of Team Loser Dog. Based in Japan. Twenty-six years old. Uses strategies that slowly weaken the opponent’s monsters and bind the duelist in a lock. Favors all Insect-Types (obviously). Teammates with Rex Raptor.

“Kaiba! Weevil may be a loser but you must at least pretend he is noteworthy. He did survive the tournament after all. He has just as much right to the finals as everyone else.” Pegasus admonished his colleague.

Kaiba scoffed at the mere idea then left in a huff, leaving Pegasus alone to appreciate the view on top of the pyramid. The Egyptians thought the pyramid likened to the rays of the sun and thus paved a stairway to the Underworld. Well, Overworld if you think about it, Pegasus joked to himself. So, which finalist would make it to the top and reach the Heaven of being forever remembered in history? Did it even matter? Well, it certainly did, at least for Pegasus’ entertainment and Kaiba’s vainglory.