Till Death Do Us Part? On Canon Relationships and Continuity

Back in 2023, I published an article on an earlier form of this website where I wrote about my spouse through the lens of my fictotype. I've decided to return to the same topic since I feel like I can better articulate myself, my thoughts have developed, and the relationship that I refer to in the text has remained significant in my life for close to five years now.

As somebody with such a largely fictional sense of being, it’s no wonder that I've always felt very close to works of fiction. Select fantastical worlds have been lodged vividly away in my mind as places that I’ve personally interacted with, almost as if I once lived there. I know myself as a specific character from a work of fiction, and I recall details of the narrative that surrounds him as an impression of a tangible life, which I understand as being fictionkind. At time of writing, I have a sole fictotype: Raiden from the Metal Gear Solid series of video games.

In most of the titles I feature in, one of the focal points of my story is the relationship I have with my future wife, Rosemary. Of course, considering the grittiness of the setting and of my own history, our relationship is remembered primarily to be fraught with strange behaviour, mutual dishonesty, and sources of conflict. This gradually-unravelling tumultuous subplot told by Rose across Metal Gear Solid 2’s Codec calls is important for the progression of the story, one that comes to a head during the penultimate arc of the game. I understand the purpose of Rose, as a narrative device, is predominantly to explore my own story. Especially what she can inform a player about my maladaptive conduct behind closed doors. Arguably, she is the central, living point from which everything about my true character branches off, as I would have been hard-pressed to say her words aloud. I realise the families in these kinds of stories unfortunately tend to be used for little more than a backdrop for the protagonist’s ability to integrate into a regular life.

I once harshly declared that we lived in different worlds. Which, I suppose, wasn’t untrue. In pursuing a career in military intelligence, she had only learned of warfare and its effects through written theory: far removed from the first-hand experiences of combat I’d realise to have known from a young age. From these experiences, I dragged a lot of personal turmoil into our romance: my detachment to life, volatile personality, substance abuse, and caginess; they mixed with the cohabitation of a serious, civilian relationship in many of the unpleasant ways you’d expect. This was especially clear throughout our first years together, and despite the two of us ending up as "happily married" as realistically possible, I can’t say these issues ever vanished for good. There are actions I feel remorse for even now, regardless of if she and I grew to understand and face them. In some ways I wish I could drain all that despair from our time together, and in others I understand this idyllic, pristine state would only render it completely unrecognisable.

Throughout the series, Rose was around to help me feel like a "real" person again: she was my strongest tie to domesticity and ordinariness in a life that rarely knew either. Prior to the Big Shell operation that takes place during Metal Gear Solid 2, she was nominated as the analyst on my team in order to (unknowingly) serve as an unavoidable reminder of the only reason I had to push ahead and stay alive. After it was all over, she would be standing there, waiting to welcome me into a new life together. Over and over again, Rose and our family would be who ultimately makes me decide I can live for somebody else, choose how I want this life to be, and be a better, forgivable person. I honestly believe this hope is the essential purpose of our relationship arc across the games themselves, even if on both occasions the successive entry seemed to "ruin" our peace for the sake of adding to my story.

While preparing this essay, I reflected on the ways that my past with Rose affects my present. I’ve found myself realising one particular parallel with my current life: the past five years have involved one long chain of difficulties related to accessing specialised transgender healthcare in my country. Watching the years pass me by under a seemingly inescapable sense of unease about my future sparked all sorts of neuroses about my own masculinity. Rose has indirectly helped a lot with this. If not only within my reminiscent fantasies of us, but in the fact these troubles weren’t exactly unknown to us back then, either.

Sure, it was under different pretences than I know now: I was born male and hadn’t thought of myself differently, but the involuntary mechanisation I underwent later in life brought with it emasculation in its original, literal sense. Many of the prostheses that were recommended by professionals to alleviate my personal sense of loss were practically identical to what is offered for transgender men today. I had also, at one earlier point, decided out of newfound dysphoria that my body had deviated far too much from human maleness to be desired again. Breaching a discussion with my wife about our new circumstances, several years after the human body she’d originally loved had been permanently displaced, was something I could only describe as harrowing. Fortunately, she seemed to take it all in stride, and she had no trouble affirming that I was still attractive to her when I needed to know it most. In hindsight, she was probably already aware of what had happened to me before she decided to reach out in the first place.

Rose still has similar positive influences on me right now. It's because the continuity of my feelings for her, and the memory of her soothing, understanding presence in my life that I carry on thinking of her fondly. Nowadays, I consider Rose to still be my life partner. If not in the literal sense, then at least in the sentimental. I tend to think back on what we had; there's very little there in the case of a current relationship. Needless to say, it’s an odd change of pace to go from knowing a certain character as a real person, one you could converse with, feel the touch of, and share a whole life with, to knowing them as the fictional character they've always been. One stuck to their rigid, programmed words and prompts, displayed upon a screen. At times I feel almost stuck between the rational side of me that understands the current dynamic, and the more... nostalgia-tinted side, the one that sees her as real.

My point is, reflecting on our memories together has helped considerably with my current life, especially the troubles and isolation I’ve found in it. As tough, or unlikely, as it was, we still made it through as happier people. We were better off with each other: I still believe nobody ever understood or loved me as much as she did, and I cannot imagine sharing my life with anyone other than Rose. Those difficulties in my personal life I referenced earlier have, for the time being, found a resolution. I’m on a consistent, happier path now, but the insecurities I’ve developed will likely persist for a while. I’m sure Rose will continue to be part of it all, as she was then, and as she’s always been.