@Yonkou#3:
anyone who says anything other than brook is insane….How could anyone else possibly compare to the suffering brook had to endure?...The man went insane. Robin got gothic. You compare the results.
I think it's that most people in this forum's biggest demographic really don't "get" what happened there. Robin's background as the little kid with mean parents that nobody liked for no good reason is something anyone in high school feels they can relate to, at least more than some of the hard-hitting horror going on in other backstories (like Sanji staring at the sea while starving to death).
I have a morbid fascination for the horrors of solitary confinement, so let's have another article someone just sent me that I found to be a pretty good read. Since some people may not want to read the whole thing, I'll post some choice bits.
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/03/30/090330fa_fact_gawande?currentPage=all
He missed people terribly, especially his fiancée and his family. He was despondent and depressed. Then, with time, he began to feel something more. He felt himself disintegrating. It was as if his brain were grinding down. A month into his confinement, he recalled in his memoir, “The mind is a blank. Jesus, I always thought I was smart. Where are all the things I learned, the books I read, the poems I memorized? There’s nothing there, just a formless, gray-black misery. My mind’s gone dead. God, help me.”
For unpredictable stretches of time, he was granted the salvation of a companion—sometimes he shared a cell with as many as four other hostages—and he noticed that his thinking recovered rapidly when this occurred. He could read and concentrate longer, avoid hallucinations, and better control his emotions. “I would rather have had the worst companion than no companion at all,” he noted…After a few weeks, he felt his mind slipping away again. “I find myself trembling sometimes for no reason,” he wrote. “I’m afraid I’m beginning to lose my mind, to lose control completely.”
One day, three years into his ordeal, he snapped. He walked over to a wall and began beating his forehead against it, dozens of times. His head was smashed and bleeding before the guards were able to stop him.
In 1992, fifty-seven prisoners of war, released after an average of six months in detention camps in the former Yugoslavia, were examined using EEG-like tests. The recordings revealed brain abnormalities months afterward; the most severe were found in prisoners who had endured either head trauma sufficient to render them unconscious or, yes, solitary confinement. Without sustained social interaction, the human brain may become as impaired as one that has incurred a traumatic injury.
Initially, Fletcher said, everyone experiences the pure elation of being able to see and talk to people again, especially family and friends. They can’t get enough of other people, and talk almost non-stop for hours. They are optimistic and hopeful. But, afterward, normal sleeping and eating patterns prove difficult to reëstablish. Some have lost their sense of time. For weeks, they have trouble managing the sensations and emotional complexities of their freedom. For the first few months after his release, Anderson said when I reached him by phone recently, “it was just kind of a fog.” He had done many television interviews at the time. “And if you look at me in the pictures? Look at my eyes. You can tell. I look drugged.”
“This is going to be a piece of cake,” Dellelo recalls thinking when the door closed behind him. Whereas many American supermax prisoners—and most P.O.W.s and hostages—have no idea when they might get out, he knew exactly how long he was going to be there. He drew a calendar on his pad of paper to start counting down the days. He would get a radio and a TV. He could read. No one was going to bother him. And, as his elaborate escape plan showed, he could be patient. “This is their sophisticated security?” he said to himself. “They don’t know what they’re doing.”
After a few months without regular social contact, however, his experience proved no different from that of the P.O.W.s or hostages, or the majority of isolated prisoners whom researchers have studied: he started to lose his mind. He talked to himself. He paced back and forth compulsively, shuffling along the same six-foot path for hours on end. Soon, he was having panic attacks, screaming for help. He hallucinated that the colors on the walls were changing. He became enraged by routine noises—the sound of doors opening as the guards made their hourly checks, the sounds of inmates in nearby cells. After a year or so, he was hearing voices on the television talking directly to him. He put the television under his bed, and rarely took it out again.
One of the paradoxes of solitary confinement is that, as starved as people become for companionship, the experience typically leaves them unfit for social interaction. Once, Dellelo was allowed to have an in-person meeting with his lawyer, and he simply couldn’t handle it. After so many months in which his primary human contact had been an occasional phone call or brief conversations with an inmate down the tier, shouted through steel doors at the top of their lungs, he found himself unable to carry on a face-to-face conversation. He had trouble following both words and hand gestures and couldn’t generate them himself. When he realized this, he succumbed to a full-blown panic attack.
But Felton would just yell, “Guard! Guard! Guard! Guard! Guard!,” or bang his cup on the toilet, for hours. He could spend whole days hallucinating that he was in another world, that he was a child at home in Danville, playing in the streets, having conversations with imaginary people…Robert Felton drifted in and out of acute psychosis for much of his solitary confinement.
On July 12, 2005, at the age of thirty-three, Felton was finally released. He hadn’t socialized with another person since entering Tamms, at the age of twenty-five. Before his release, he was given one month in the general prison population to get used to people. It wasn’t enough. Upon returning to society, he found that he had trouble in crowds. At a party of well-wishers, the volume of social stimulation overwhelmed him and he panicked, headed for a bathroom, and locked himself in.
One Piece has a lot of surprisingly dark content for what is supposedly a children's fantasy story, but my jaw was on the floor as I read through Thriller Bark. It's subtle, because Oda isn't the kind of writer to bludgeon you to death with this stuff, but it's there. The "ten years later" flashback scene where Brook is laughing hysterically, scampering around the deck talking to himself and briefly forgetting he's alone, having difficulty telling dreaming from being awake, it's all there. Gives me chills every single time.
And humor character or no, the guy is definitely still…off. Look at him in his flashback before that - he was emotional and got silly at parties, but otherwise a perfectly sensible person. Now he's hilarious, but a total disaster a good portion of the time.
That's not even touching the disfigurement/body horror issue yet, although Oda did that in TB too.
This is a pretty amazing series to tackle some of the things it does, really. Some of the scenes in the slave market are a close second, to say nothing of what was implied when that Tenryuubito announced "yeah, I like this random woman I saw on the street, she's my wife now. Someone drag her back home with me. Oh, and get rid of some of the others, I'm tired of them."
...yeah, I'm bored and chatty tonight. So sue me.