Baxter Peters
Considering Writing Again
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Dungeon Master
Inner Sanctum Nobility
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- He/Him
Sebastian had been planning this trip for over a decade. To say he was an EDM fan was both and understatement and wildly reductive. He was an EDM scholar and even that was too simple to describe his interest. Double majoring in computer programming and music theory, he was a well-respected voice in the electronic music community, with his podcast and social media feeds considered some of the finest reviews and critiques available in the scene. Not that anyone knew who he was. All his professional appearances used an LED mask and voice modulation.
Like it or not, mystique carried a lot of value in the scene, even if it was a little kitschy, and he leaned into ironic kitsch. His online persona was known simply as 'Perzona', and the success tied to that name was genuinely a bit embarrassing, but shame never got anyone anywhere.
Despite his cred in the EDM scene, Sebastian had never made it to the Electric Daisy Carnival. Every time he made plans to go, fate would intervene. Family, financial, or health calamities kept him from going for the last six years, but this year, he was making it, Gods be damned. He wasn't even attending as Perzona, but just Sebastian, a mediocre white guy with a weak chin and a deeper voice than one would expect from his mild frame. He wanted an authentic experience, and he couldn't get that as a VIP. He wanted the heat and sweat of the floor, not some curated, backstage access.
Friday had been brilliant. An eclectic mix of MDMA, ketamine, music, and grinding on the floor with a handsome boy from Iowa had been exactly what he'd been hoping for, and he even managed to stay hydrated, so when he roused in Iowa's sweat stained sheets, his head was fine. Fine enough for a round two with a cornfed bit of beauty whose name he couldn't recall ever hearing. As they fed each other breakfast, Iowa suggested they check out Carcosa that evening.
"Sweetheart, I'm not in Vegas to check out TikTok's biggest metal band." Sebastian booped Iowa's nose with a fingertip covered in whip cream.
"There's a TikTok metal band? No, I heard about this underground gig by an ultra exclusive band called Carcosa. Girl telling me about it said it'd blow our mind."
"Ahh, I see. A girl."
"No, it ain't like that. Not that I wouldn't be down. Just, the way she described it felt like... magic, but like taboo magic."
"Pretty boy, you were high as fuck last night."
"Didn't stop me from making a good choice with you."
"Fair." Sebastian had to surrender in the face of such outstanding logic. "Let's see your show."
Carcosa's show was on stage 31, which wasn't on any of Sebastian's festival maps, but Iowa was sure the directions he'd half remembered would be fine. Given all the mind altering stimulants going through the writer's head, he wasn't sure where they were, much less where they were going. He was drifting in a sea of sensation and noise, pulled in Iowa's wake. There was magic in the air of this festival, the sort of primal truths that couldn't be grasped by one's conscious, but felt by their soul.
Pretentious twattle of course. Real magic was much more visceral, as Sebastian would learn.
The arrived after the band had begun playing, and frankly, Carcosa was a barely mediocre band. The sort of experience that would be born from a Skrillex fronting Ghost. The music was competent, but off putting, discordant, jarring. It wasn't so much challenging as cynically mocking the audience. Gradually, Sebastian began to hyperfocus on the music, gazing off into a middle distance as he turned the meter over in his mind, trying to break down the composition to find what part was grating at his soul. He... he hated this music. He hated it in a way he couldn't find words for, despite words being all he ever brought to music. He wasn't an artist. He wasn't talented. He understood everything about EDM except the soul of music. He could speak for hours about the science of music, but the actual spark of creation?
He'd never understand that. He wasn't a creator, just someone who tried to touch and understand that wonder, like he was trying to understand this.
His gaze rolled up to the sky, eyes not seeing the unfamiliar stars, the two moons, or much of anything. Instead, he was focused on the music, it's lyrics actually more than simply an instrument, but telling a story of madness and damnation. Rock operas were tired by the time Fall Out Boy shat one out, and yet here was Carcosa, with their tale of Cassilda and Camilla's fateful production.
Part of him was vaguely aware of Iowa climbing onto the stage, the lighting washing out his tanned, flawless skin, leaving him looking jaundiced and sickly. The farmboy walked over to a massive speaker, arms thrown wide as the sound flayed the flesh from his body, spraying the crowd with bits of blood and skin.
Licking the coppery wet off his dry lips, Sebastian couldn't help but envy the passion in Iowa's tormented screams, harmonizing so beautifully with the music. Those screams... they smoothed the discordant edges in the song, completing the unfinished art through audience participation. Openly weeping, he clasped his hands in prayer before his lips as he stared, wide-eyed at the yellow robed singer, gradually realizing what he believed was the lead's mask wasn't anything of the sort.
His own screams joined the rapturous chorus.
Like it or not, mystique carried a lot of value in the scene, even if it was a little kitschy, and he leaned into ironic kitsch. His online persona was known simply as 'Perzona', and the success tied to that name was genuinely a bit embarrassing, but shame never got anyone anywhere.
Despite his cred in the EDM scene, Sebastian had never made it to the Electric Daisy Carnival. Every time he made plans to go, fate would intervene. Family, financial, or health calamities kept him from going for the last six years, but this year, he was making it, Gods be damned. He wasn't even attending as Perzona, but just Sebastian, a mediocre white guy with a weak chin and a deeper voice than one would expect from his mild frame. He wanted an authentic experience, and he couldn't get that as a VIP. He wanted the heat and sweat of the floor, not some curated, backstage access.
Friday had been brilliant. An eclectic mix of MDMA, ketamine, music, and grinding on the floor with a handsome boy from Iowa had been exactly what he'd been hoping for, and he even managed to stay hydrated, so when he roused in Iowa's sweat stained sheets, his head was fine. Fine enough for a round two with a cornfed bit of beauty whose name he couldn't recall ever hearing. As they fed each other breakfast, Iowa suggested they check out Carcosa that evening.
"Sweetheart, I'm not in Vegas to check out TikTok's biggest metal band." Sebastian booped Iowa's nose with a fingertip covered in whip cream.
"There's a TikTok metal band? No, I heard about this underground gig by an ultra exclusive band called Carcosa. Girl telling me about it said it'd blow our mind."
"Ahh, I see. A girl."
"No, it ain't like that. Not that I wouldn't be down. Just, the way she described it felt like... magic, but like taboo magic."
"Pretty boy, you were high as fuck last night."
"Didn't stop me from making a good choice with you."
"Fair." Sebastian had to surrender in the face of such outstanding logic. "Let's see your show."
Carcosa's show was on stage 31, which wasn't on any of Sebastian's festival maps, but Iowa was sure the directions he'd half remembered would be fine. Given all the mind altering stimulants going through the writer's head, he wasn't sure where they were, much less where they were going. He was drifting in a sea of sensation and noise, pulled in Iowa's wake. There was magic in the air of this festival, the sort of primal truths that couldn't be grasped by one's conscious, but felt by their soul.
Pretentious twattle of course. Real magic was much more visceral, as Sebastian would learn.
The arrived after the band had begun playing, and frankly, Carcosa was a barely mediocre band. The sort of experience that would be born from a Skrillex fronting Ghost. The music was competent, but off putting, discordant, jarring. It wasn't so much challenging as cynically mocking the audience. Gradually, Sebastian began to hyperfocus on the music, gazing off into a middle distance as he turned the meter over in his mind, trying to break down the composition to find what part was grating at his soul. He... he hated this music. He hated it in a way he couldn't find words for, despite words being all he ever brought to music. He wasn't an artist. He wasn't talented. He understood everything about EDM except the soul of music. He could speak for hours about the science of music, but the actual spark of creation?
He'd never understand that. He wasn't a creator, just someone who tried to touch and understand that wonder, like he was trying to understand this.
His gaze rolled up to the sky, eyes not seeing the unfamiliar stars, the two moons, or much of anything. Instead, he was focused on the music, it's lyrics actually more than simply an instrument, but telling a story of madness and damnation. Rock operas were tired by the time Fall Out Boy shat one out, and yet here was Carcosa, with their tale of Cassilda and Camilla's fateful production.
Part of him was vaguely aware of Iowa climbing onto the stage, the lighting washing out his tanned, flawless skin, leaving him looking jaundiced and sickly. The farmboy walked over to a massive speaker, arms thrown wide as the sound flayed the flesh from his body, spraying the crowd with bits of blood and skin.
Licking the coppery wet off his dry lips, Sebastian couldn't help but envy the passion in Iowa's tormented screams, harmonizing so beautifully with the music. Those screams... they smoothed the discordant edges in the song, completing the unfinished art through audience participation. Openly weeping, he clasped his hands in prayer before his lips as he stared, wide-eyed at the yellow robed singer, gradually realizing what he believed was the lead's mask wasn't anything of the sort.
His own screams joined the rapturous chorus.