Super

Super

 

My own headcanon about superbeings takes the form of a trilogy, as follows:

Part 1, “Superpower of the People”. A lesser superhero and a lesser supervillain team up to investigate the nature of superpower. Meanwhile the other supers continue their endless destructive conflicts. The lesser superbeings discover how superpower works, and they use this knowledge to invent devices that can give ordinary people superpowers. They sell those devices for $199.95 each. The other supers get wind of this, and they don’t like it one little bit. Only they, the aristocrats, deserve those powers. That drives the story’s conflict. Biff! Bam! Pow! After setbacks and plot twists, the People win. But the most villainous of the superheros, while being dragged off to super-jail, warn them that their troubles are only just beginning.

Part 2, “Superpower of the Law”. A policier. Society has technically integrated superpowers into everyday life. The people fly to work, build by telekinesis, communicate telepathically, use healing energies, etc. But law and custom lag behind technology, and the powers are abused by bad actors. Our hero, a detective technologically superpowered, tracks down and catches some of those bad actors, whom the authorities punish by newly-minted law.

Part 3, “Superpower of Love”. A rom-com. Two young super-fools make super-blunders in awkward pursuit of each other. In the end they clean up the messes they made, and get married.

The idea is to depict the Enlightenment ideal of popular empowerment via scientific progress. Also to debunk the inherently corrupting fantasy of the lone vigilante, in favor of a well-governed Republic. And also to admit the persistence of folly, even in a public empowered by science.

I imagine it in three parts to parallel the three generations of a dynasty: the Conqueror, the Lawgiver, and the Idiot Grandsons.

This trilogy can be adapted to any system of superpowers. In a Star Wars world, a shot of midichlorians will give you the Force. In Rowling’s world, Hermoine invents an amulet that Muggles can use. And so on.

In a Tolkienesque world, the magical macguffin for the people could be the Ring of Disillusionment. It’s made of cheap brass, and when worn linked to a cord, it goes “ting!” whenever someone tells a lie. When it is unlinked from the cord and worn on a finger, then that silences the “ting!”, except to the wearer, who must also see with disillusioned eyes; therefore magic does not work on them, for magic is made from illusion.

The trouble is that these trilogies will subvert their source franchises, so the corporations will object. It would be safest to invent your own super-world to revolutionize.