By Mike Corbett WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR GAME OF THRONES
This past Sunday, the barely flickering flame of hope in my heart was extinguished. It was snuffed out once and for all at the hands of three madmen; the insidious George R. R. Martin and his nefarious henchmen David Benioff and D.B. Weiss. Together, the three have adapted Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series into the hit HBO show Game of Thrones, and use it as a vehicle for destroying the souls of anyone foolish enough to watch. I’m just such a fool; I was lured in by the show’s siren song, which promised a rich fantasy world filled with wonderful actors, (I mean seriously, give Peter Dinklage all the Emmys) but now I realize it was all a trap, and I’m just as doomed as all the poor inhabitants of Westeros.
I should have seen this coming, really. I made it through Ned Stark’s beheading, chalking it up to plot developments and Sean Bean’s contractual obligation to die whenever he’s on camera for an extended period of time. It was a grim turn of events, certainly, but there were so many other characters to love and so much of the world to explore, surely it would be all uphill from there. Things did appear to be moving in the right direction for a time, the noble Robb Stark was marching South, seemingly destined to give those the dastardly Lannister’s their much deserved comeuppance for slaying his father. Then came The Red Wedding.
For those of you who have absolutely no idea what this article is referencing, all you need to know is that The Red Wedding was an event that produced reactions like this:
One would think that watching several of my favorite characters be completely obliterated would have clued me in to the evil nature of show. But no, like Homer Simpson watching his suckling pig fly through the air, I refused accept the truth; “It’s just a little bloody, it’s still good, it’s still good! “ Instead of running away, I only sank deeper into denial. All this horror was just there to make it even sweeter when those dastardly Lannister’s get their comeuppance! Oh what a wonderful day that will be!
This week’s episode has finally made me realize it is a day that will never come. Any hope in this terrible world Martin, Benioff and Weiss have created is a fleeting thing, designed only to distract you. You’ll think everything is finally beginning to turn around and then BAM, another punch to the stomach. Ned Stark seems prepped to set things right? BAM, stomach punch! There goes his head. Robb Stark seems ready to turn the tide of the war with the Lannisters? BAM, stomach punch! He, and countless others are killed. The brat King Joffrey, who you have wanted to see something terrible happen to since the first episode, finally gets killed? BAM, stomach punch! Peter Dinklage’s character, the loveable Tyrion is blamed for it and sentenced to death. You can’t take this many punches to the stomach and expect to survive, just ask Houdini.
But Game of Thrones isn’t content to let you fall from body blows alone, oh no, it wants to break you. It wants to take your heart in its hands and squish you like a grape, or like the head of a charismatic Prince who joined the series this season, turned in a fantastic performance and seemed primed to finally bring some much needed justice to Westeros. There’s no hope here, I know that now, and even worse, I know I’ll be back watching again next week. Because this show is awesome.
Mike Corbett is Level 2 Sketch Writing Student at the DCH Training Center. He's also an intern for the DCH blog. You can read more of his comedy stylings HERE.