As a whole, Start Recursion is about the concept of ‘finding’ a story—in other words, the story is about the way that, for many artists, art is not a tool but an extension of themselves. Although technically, yes, most everything put into a piece of writing is a deliberate choice by the writer, oftentimes those deliberate choices are spawned from a well of subjective emotion, filled from years of life experience and knowledge. In this way, rather than creating a piece of art, we ‘find’ it; we stumble upon the emotions necessary to write somewhere in the back of our minds.

The story follows an author in the process of finding their own story. He starts with the basic concept: “Rainbow Dash is dead, and then she isn’t.” It just so happens that, in many ways, this concept is perfect. This concept, with the hero dying and rising once again, has been the backdrop for countless stories throughout the ages, from the life of Jesus to the struggles of Rama. In the words of author Jeremy John, this concept is “an inevitability” of the human struggle—we search ravenously for stories of heroes overcoming death, the great equalizer, as they are the figures we strive to become powerful enough to emulate. The concept of death and resurrection (along with a few other things) is a story that is “woven throughout our lives”.

However, because this is a contest for stories, not concepts, the author must advance, and add depth to what he’s already found.

This is where it starts to go wrong.

The first sparks of the author’s imperfections taint the story quickly. This is evidenced through his use of swears (“bare sparkling asses”), as well as his tone, which implies sarcasm and flippancy. The author allows his base human instincts to run roughshod over one of humanity’s greatest literary tropes. He can’t stop this—he is an imperfect human, and thus writes imperfect stories. He can’t accept this, however, and declares that he needs to take something seriously for “once in [his] life”. The author doesn’t accept that he can’t fight himself.

Also in this section comes the first instance of something that comes up quite a few times later: treating his characters as props, and not as the people they are within their universe. The author argues that Pinkie Pie only has one way of dealing with everything: jokes. This reduces Pinkie Pie, a unique character with unique goals and aspirations, to nothing more than an easily identifiable puppet. A puppet that he might control in order to write the story in the way he wants to—more imperfections.

Then, he stops.

It’s here that we get the first true glimpse of the author as he truly is—a man who holds deep insecurities, a man who second guesses everything he does. More on this later.

Now we get the hook: is Rainbow Dash still Rainbow Dash, even after death?

As I said earlier, we as artists find stories, crafted in our minds by previous life experience. This is an example of that. The first hook that the author thinks of, whether or not Rainbow is the same Rainbow after being resurrected, is a clear reference to stories like Blink, where Twilight dies and comes back, only to ask herself if she is truly the same Twilight. This is probably the lightest metafictional reference in the entire story.

The next section, with the author’s short diatribe about Twilight being “logical … believ[ing] in what the numbers and models tell her”, is another instance of the author trying to make the characters move in the way he sees fit. The line about Pinkie, too. The author, in an attempt to make the story perfect, is forcing his characters to act as stereotypes, as stilted machines, guided by catchphrases and base character traits. In other words, in the quest for perfection, the author is forcing himself into imperfection.

In a way, Twilight also represents the author. As she is testing out the new Rainbow Dash, poking and prodding to see if she’s ‘correct,’ so too is the author testing out his new ideas, poking and prodding at the prose as if it were flesh. More on this later.

This is followed by another stop, and another instance of the author doubting himself. This doubt is interesting, as he throws the entire scene away based on a rather minor point—Twilight’s science babble being slightly incorrect, in a way that no reader would probably ever notice or care about. He is ignoring the obvious imperfections in his characters in order to focus on something that isn’t a problem at all. This says something about the author—maybe he’s the kind of guy who misses the big picture, and worries about the minor details?

The next section is just an aside, a distraction—much like the ones authors must deal with when trying to focus on writing with a deadline.

Now, we get to the verse section. For the first time, the author acknowledges his attempt to control the characters as characters, rather than allowing the story to flow naturally. In his own words, he “tell them what to say, and they say it”. He is able to reduce the art of writing to “pixels on a television, letters on a screen, voices in your head”…

But he stops. He finally realizes that trying to force a story and its characters to work in a certain way simply because that’s what you want to happen doesn’t work. Artists aren’t in control of their art—the art controls them.

Next is the section I wish didn’t exist, as it pretty much gives away the vehicle. Not much to say about this.

Next is the section with Rarity making herself into something new. The important thing to remember about this section is that, in reality, the author isn’t talking about Rarity here—he’s talking about himself, and thus talking about every writer. Rarity is a stand in for artists as a whole.

How is that, you might ask? Well, let’s look at two lines from this section:

Rarity is whichever shade of blush she chose to paste onto her face that morning, the thickness of the eyeliner, the length of the eyelashes, the darkness of the eyeshadow, the softness of the brush.

and

Rainbow Dash is whenever her last nap was, however recently she last won or lost something, if she cares more about herself or more about her friends today.

These two lines are important, as they call back to the concept of art being a culmination of all one’s life experiences. Once again, we are not in control of our art. Our art is borne from every small moment of life that we’ve ever experienced, carved into our memories like water and wind against stone. When we choose to define ourselves as artists, we choose to define ourselves as those countless experiences. When we wake up and plan for the days ahead, although we may not realize it, we are asking ourselves: Who will I make of myself today?

Even the name dropping is an example of this. Those category tags, those authors—these are things that this author has gained from experiences in his life. James Patterson would not make these references. Ernest Hemingway would not makes these references. The author of Start Recursion would. He is who he has made of himself by entering the world of ponefic.

He states, “Name dropping won’t get you anywhere.” More second guessing.

Next, the audio portion of the piece. This section is a direct attempt to connect the author within the story, the author of the minific, and the readers together. We are all artists. We are all the sum of our parts. We are all the same—

Stop. That’s not true, the author realizes. If we are all the sum of our parts, then we are all different, as everyone has different parts. To suggest otherwise… the author is reaching too far, “getting too big for [his] britches”. This is further evidenced by Rarity forgetting who she planned to be—Rarity is losing her identity, much like the author almost forced the reader to lose his.

Also of note here, and throughout the entire piece, is Rainbow Dash’s role. Look back—just what has RD been doing this entire time? The answer, really, is nothing. She’s been nothing but a slab of flesh for others to move around, to attach emotions to. She’s not a character, she’s a prop. The author has failed to realize that giving Rainbow Dash a hook—her strange immortality, her possible new soul—does not mean giving her a personality. Much like >>45947654594765 stated earlier in the thread, a great story is one that “has an intriguing theme acted out by intriguing characters”. Horse proceeds to use the story of Jesus as an example. Can you see how our author has failed?

Next section, the author explains what recursion is. When I first read this, I didn’t like this section very much. However, looking back, I understand the purpose.

Let’s go back to an earlier point, where Twilight represented the author, and RD represented the story. Is that not true here? Twilight waits for numbers, some sort of objective source, to tell her if she’s allowed to love Rainbow Dash. Meanwhile, in the next section, the author defends his use of recursion, stating that “People like cycles and patterns”. Both are trying to find excuses to love something they see as flawed, as lesser than what they want.

Now, the final section, and the only one I explained in my review.

The author wants a conclusion. We all want a conclusion! We all want our happy ending, where the author discovers his problems and becomes the greatest author the world has ever known!

But it doesn’t come. It doesn’t ever come, and that’s because art doesn’t ever have a conclusion. There is no such thing as the perfect author. As long as we are living, as long as we are experiencing new things, we are growing, advancing. Even our own personal conclusions—our deaths—serve to influence other artists who knew us. If Cold in Gardez (God forbid) were to spontaneously combust tomorrow, we would all feel it. Our art would feel it. Much like the same concepts and themes keep showing up to explain the human experience, art keeps going on. We need it in more ways than we realize.

Just as we are forced to accept this, so is the author, and so do our ponies. Twilight and Pinkie and Rarity want Rainbow Dash back, but can’t have her, so they have to accept the strange one they’ve been given. All the while the author wants the perfect story, but can’t have it, so he has to accept the flawed one he’s found.

Maybe that’ll be enough, and maybe it won’t.

Stop. Even if it’s not over.

Because it’ll never be over.

[note: There’s a good chance that none of this is what the author actually meant. But Roland Barthes is my hero, so fuck the author.] Next Chapter: Chapter 4 Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 51 Minutes