The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind stands as a landmark, for me personally and in the greater landscape of interactive fiction. Released in 2002, it distinguishes itself not merely through its expansive open world but through its deliberate and profound narrative ambiguity. The game presents a world that is alien, esoteric, and fundamentally unknowable through conventional means. Its story is not a linear sequence of events to be consumed, but a mythological puzzle with no single, definitive solution. This design ethos challenges the player to transcend the role of a passive audience member and become an active interpreter of myth, a historian sifting through the contradictory archives of a world built on subjective truth.

The principal architect of this vision is, at least in my telling and in that of many other Morrowind fans, is Michael Kirkbride; a writer and designer whose influence on the series, particularly Morrowind, cannot be overstated. Kirkbride’s approach to world-building is that of a modern myth-maker, blending high-fantasy tropes with deep currents of esoteric philosophy, Gnostic mysticism, science fiction, and literary theory. His work, both within the official games and in his extensive post-Bethesda writings, treats lore not as a static backdrop but as a dynamic, living entity shaped by belief and perception. The argument presented by this essay is thus: to fully grasp the narrative of Morrowind, one must engage with Kirkbride’s broader philosophy. Particularly as articulated in non-canon texts like C0DA, which serve as a key to his entire methodology.

The following sections will explore the interwoven stories of the hero Indoril Nerevar, the god-villain Dagoth Ur, and the central plot device of the “Divine Disease” corprus; laying out the case that they are best understood as a multi-layered metaphysical allegory. This allegory explores the very nature of reality within The Elder Scrolls universe: a reality defined by subjective truth, cyclical conflict, the power of myth, and the ever-present, existential threat of a dreaming god awakening to the fiction of its own creation. We will proceed in three parts. First I will deconstruct the foundational principles of the Kirkbridean ethos, establishing the metaphysical rules that govern the narrative. The next step is then to apply these principles to the central figures of Nerevar and Dagoth Ur, reframing their conflict as an archetypal struggle. Finally, I will examine the corprus disease as a theological and philosophical weapon; the physical manifestation of a divine, solipsistic madness.

• You can read more about Morrowind’s incredible lore on the The UESP Wiki.

• UESP also has an in-depth entry on Michael Kirkbride; if you would like to explore more of his work, it is a good place to start.

The Kirkbride Ethos

To comprehend the story of Morrowind, one must first understand the unconventional rules upon which its reality is constructed. Michael Kirkbride’s world-building ethos deliberately subverts the player’s expectation of a stable, objective truth. The strange, often contradictory nature of the lore is not a flaw or an oversight; it is the fundamental design of the universe. This design rests on three pillars: the elevation of the unreliable narrator to a law of physics, the grounding of reality in esoteric metaphysics, and the ultimate rejection of a singular, authoritative canon.

The Unreliable Narrator as Foundational Principle

The primary rule of engagement with the lore of The Elder Scrolls is the principle of the unreliable narrator. This concept is not merely a literary device employed for occasional mystery but the foundational mechanic through which the entire history of the world is presented. Every in-game book, every line of dialogue, and every historical account is delivered from a subjective viewpoint, colored by cultural bias, political agenda, religious dogma, or simple ignorance. There is no omniscient, objective voice to arbitrate between these conflicting claims. This forces the player into the role of a critical historian, tasked with constructing a plausible truth from a library of primary sources, none of which can be fully trusted. This phenomenon, where a single event is described in multiple contradictory ways by those involved, is often referred to as the “Rashomon effect”.

Case Study: The Battle of Red Mountain

The most potent and central example of this principle is the cataclysmic Battle of Red Mountain, the pivotal event in Dunmer history that led to the disappearance of the Dwemer race and the apotheosis of the Tribunal. The “truth” of what occurred in the heart of the volcano is deliberately obscured by a tapestry of conflicting, self-serving narratives.

• The Tribunal Temple Account: The official state religion of Morrowind presents a sanitized and heroic version of events. In this telling, found in texts like Saint Nerevar, the great hero Nerevar united the Dunmer to confront the blasphemous Dwemer and the treacherous House Dagoth. Nerevar was mortally wounded in his duel with Dagoth Ur but lived long enough to bless the ascension of his trusted advisors: Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil; to the status of god-protectors of the Dunmer people. This account conveniently legitimizes the Tribunal’s rule and brands Dagoth Ur as a simple traitor.
• The Ashlander Account: The nomadic Ashlanders, who preserve the pre-Tribunal faiths, hold a starkly different version of the story, which they attribute to Nerevar’s shield-companion, Alandro Sul. In their telling, Nerevar at Red Mountain, the Tribunal are the true traitors. After Nerevar defeated the Dwemer, his generals coveted the divine power of the Heart of Lorkhan. They poisoned the wounded Nerevar with “poisoned candles and Sotha Sil used poisoned robes and Vivec used poisoned invocations” to prevent him from stopping their blasphemous ritual. In response to this foul murder, the Daedric Prince Azura cursed the Tribunal and transformed the golden-skinned Chimer into the ash-skinned Dunmer, prophesying that Nerevar would one day return to exact his revenge.
• Vivec’s “Confession”: The God-Poet Vivec, when confronted by the Nerevarine, offers an account that largely aligns with the Temple’s version, omitting any mention of murder. However, his own magnum opus, the 36 Lessons of Vivec, contains hidden confessions. The first letter of each paragraph in Sermon 36 spells out “FOUL MURDER”. Another coded message, deciphered from Sermon 29, reads: “He was not born a god. His destiny did not lead him to this crime. He chose this path of his own free will. He stole the godhood and murdered the Hortator. Vivec wrote this”. This act of embedding a confession within a work of propaganda is perfectly characteristic of Vivec’s duplicitous nature, simultaneously lying and telling the truth.
• Dagoth Ur’s Perspective: The Sharmat himself offers yet another viewpoint. In his dialogue and written messages, he claims a profound betrayal not by the Tribunal, but by Nerevar. He insists he was faithfully guarding Kagrenac’s Tools, as bound by his oath, when Nerevar returned and “struck me down”. From his perspective, Nerevar was the one who broke faith, and his actions are a response to this original, personal betrayal.

These accounts are mutually exclusive on a factual level, yet the game presents evidence supporting each one. This intentional ambiguity is resolved not by discovering a “true” account, but by understanding the metaphysical nature of time in Tamriel. The concept of the “Dragon Break” describes a temporal anomaly where linear time shatters, allowing multiple, contradictory events to occur simultaneously before causality is re-established. The “Red Moment,” the instant the Heart of Lorkhan was manipulated at the battle’s climax, is widely theorized to have been such an event. If this is the case, then all accounts are, in a literal sense, true. Nerevar was murdered by the Tribunal, and he died of his wounds. Dagoth Ur was a loyal friend, and he was a traitor.

This elevates the unreliable narrator from a mere literary device to a fundamental law of physics within the Aurbis. The ambiguity is not a result of flawed perception or deliberate lies alone; it is an inherent property of a reality that is fundamentally unstable and subject to mythopoeic forces. The world of The Elder Scrolls is not just being described unreliably; it exists unreliably. The very fabric of history can be rewoven by acts of great will or divine intervention, making myth as real as fact.

Metaphysics as Reality’s Source Code

Kirkbride’s world-building pushes beyond conventional fantasy by embedding esoteric and metaphysical concepts directly into the universe’s cosmology, treating them as the source code of reality itself. Understanding these concepts is essential to grasping the deeper narrative of Morrowind.

• The Dream of the Godhead: The ultimate cosmological framework of The Elder Scrolls posits that the entire universe, the Aurbis, is the dream of a sleeping, unknown cosmic entity referred to as the Godhead. This Gnostic concept reframes every event, every character, and every law of physics as a mere figment within a divine consciousness. The world is, in the most literal sense, a work of fiction.
• CHIM and the Fourth Wall: Within this dream, it is possible for a being to achieve a state of lucid awareness known as CHIM. A being who achieves CHIM understands the fundamental truth of the universe: “I AM AND ALL ARE WE.” They recognize their own existence as part of the Godhead’s dream, yet they possess a strong enough sense of self to assert their individuality and avoid “zero-summing”; the act of ceasing to exist upon realizing one’s own fictionality. This state grants the ability to manipulate the fabric of the dream, effectively rewriting reality. This concept provides a diegetic explanation for the player’s own interaction with the game world. The player is an outside consciousness inhabiting a character, capable of manipulating the world’s rules through actions like reloading a save state: a direct parallel to the reality-altering power of CHIM. The fourth wall is not so much broken as it is acknowledged as a fundamental part of the universe’s structure.
• The Amaranth and the New Dream: The final step on this metaphysical ladder is the Amaranth. This is the act of transcending CHIM, moving beyond being a lucid dreamer in someone else’s dream to become a new Godhead and begin a new dream entirely. This represents the ultimate purpose of existence in Kirkbride’s cosmology: the universe striving to perpetuate itself through the birth of new realities.

These metaphysical layers are not just background flavor; they are a set of instructions for how to read and interact with the world of The Elder Scrolls. They confirm that the universe is a self-aware text, a living and mutable fiction. The deepest lore is an acknowledgment of its own unreality and an invitation for the audience to become active participants/co-authors in the ongoing dream. The player’s journey, their choices, and their personal interpretation of the lore are not just a playthrough; they are a form of engaging with the dream on its own terms.

C0DA and the Death of Canon

This philosophical approach to world-building finds its ultimate expression in Michael Kirkbride’s post-Bethesda work, most notably the 2014 comic book script titled C0DA. C0DA is set in a far-future, science-fantasy version of Tamriel, where Nirn has been destroyed by the rampaging Numidium in an event called “Landfall,” and the surviving Dunmer and Khajiit live on the moon of Masser. The script features laser battles, sentient supercomputers, and the marriage of a new Nerevarine figure to Vivec, resulting in the birth of a new Amaranth.

The narrative itself is a shocking and deliberate break from the established fantasy aesthetic, but its true purpose is philosophical. The central argument of C0DA is that the concept of a single, authoritative “canon” is irrelevant and creatively stifling. It posits that The Elder Scrolls is a “collective fiction,” an open-source mythology where every individual’s interpretation, every playthrough of the games, and every piece of fan-created work is its own valid “c0da”; a unique conclusion to the story. Kirkbride presents his script as his personal c0da while explicitly encouraging the audience to create and embrace their own.

Viewed through this lens, Morrowind becomes a practical application of the C0DA philosophy years before it was written. The game’s conflicting histories, its ambiguous prophecies, and the central question of the Nerevarine’s identity are not problems to be solved with a single, correct answer. They are an invitation to the player to engage with the material, weigh the evidence, and form their own truth. The player’s journey through the main quest is the act of creating their own personal “c0da” for the events of the Battle of Red Mountain.

Furthermore, C0DA can be interpreted as a form of creative rebellion. Written long after Kirkbride’s departure from Bethesda, the work acts as a defense mechanism against the homogenizing force of corporate-controlled canon. By declaring canon dead, Kirkbride empowers the fan community and protects his own esoteric, often bizarre contributions from being simplified or retconned by future installments in the franchise. It is a philosophical declaration that the weird, metaphysical soul of Morrowind belongs to everyone who dreams within its world, not just to its legal owners. C0DA is not just a story; it is a political act of creative liberation.

Deconstructing the Nerevar/Dagoth Ur Enantiomorph

Applying the Kirkbridean ethos to the central figures of Morrowind’s story reveals that they are not merely historical personages but archetypal forces locked in a cyclical, metaphysical conflict. The story of Indoril Nerevar and Voryn Dagoth is a myth that repeats itself, a pattern woven into the fabric of reality. Their relationship, betrayal, and eventual confrontation are best understood through the mythological lens of the enantiomorph.

The Hero as a Question

Indoril Nerevar is a figure defined by contradiction. He exists in the historical record less as a man and more as a collection of conflicting narratives, each serving a different purpose. The Tribunal Temple paints him as a pious saint who blessed their rise to power. The Ashlanders remember him as their champion, a uniter of clans who honored the old ways and was tragically betrayed by his power-hungry advisors. Imperial scholars portray him as a secular warlord who used a magical ring to forge a political alliance. He is a faithful servant of the Daedric Prince Azura and a loving friend to the Dwemer King Dumac, yet he leads a war that results in the Dwemer’s extinction. The iconic Indoril helmet, which is said to bear his true face, is always closed, a perfect symbol for the man himself: a mask that stands in for an unknowable truth.

This ambiguity is carried forward into the Nerevarine Prophecy, the central driver of Morrowind’s main quest. The prophecy is not a straightforward prediction but a loose narrative framework that the player character is maneuvered into fulfilling. Its trials are intentionally vague: the Nerevarine will be an outlander of “uncertain parents” who is “immune to disease”. These criteria are broad enough to apply to many individuals, suggesting the prophecy does not so much identify a chosen one as it creates one. The Emperor Uriel Septim, guided by visions, plucks the player from prison and sends them to Morrowind, setting the process in motion. The central question of the quest is whether the player is a literal reincarnation of Nerevar’s soul or simply an individual who “mantles” the role: walking so perfectly in the hero’s footsteps that the universe can no longer tell the difference.

The agent behind this prophecy, the Daedric Prince Azura, is herself an ambiguous figure. On the surface, she appears to be a benevolent patron, guiding her champion to right a great wrong. However, her motivations are suspect. The murder of Nerevar was not just an act of political betrayal; it was a personal affront to Azura, who considered Nerevar her favorite mortal champion. Her curse upon the Chimer, transforming them into the Dunmer, was an act of profound, collective punishment, not justice. It is entirely plausible to interpret her actions not as a quest for righteousness, but as a centuries-long, meticulously planned act of petty revenge against the Tribunal, with the Nerevarine serving as her unwitting weapon.

Ultimately, the game’s structure places the final act of definition in the player’s hands. The historical accounts are all unreliable, but the player’s actions in the present create a new, definitive truth. By choosing which factions to support, which NPCs to believe, and how to interpret the prophecies, the player’s playthrough becomes the final, authoritative chapter in the story of Nerevar. The player character is, therefore, the final unreliable narrator, whose subjective choices forge the “true” version of the myth for their personal “c0da.” They are not just uncovering the past; they are actively writing it.

The Sharmat as a Metaphysical Cancer

Opposing the Nerevarine is Dagoth Ur, one of the most complex and compelling antagonists in video game history. To understand him is to peel back layers of tragedy, madness, and a terrifyingly coherent philosophical vision. In the most sympathetic reading of the past, Voryn Dagoth was Nerevar’s closest and most loyal friend, the head of the Sixth House and a trusted general. At the climax of the Battle of Red Mountain, Nerevar entrusted him with guarding Kagrenac’s powerful Tools and the Heart of Lorkhan, binding him with an oath to let no one touch them. When Nerevar returned with the Tribunal and demanded the Tools, seemingly ordering Dagoth to break his oath; Dagoth refused out of loyalty and was struck down for his faithfulness. Left for dead in the Heart Chamber, his mind and body were warped by the raw divinity of the Heart, and his love for Nerevar curdled into an obsessive hatred born from this ultimate betrayal.

From this long period of communion with the Heart of Lorkhan, Dagoth Ur emerged with a new, divine philosophy. Where a being who achieves CHIM realizes “I AM AND ALL ARE WE,” Dagoth Ur reached the opposite conclusion: “I AM AND ALL ARE ME”. This state, termed “Anti-CHIM” by lore analysts, is a form of divine solipsism. He believes he is the true dreamer, the Godhead, and his grand plan is to expand his divine consciousness to encompass all of reality, absorbing every mortal soul into his own being. He does not see this as conquest or destruction, but as a gift. He intends to “free” mortals from the tyranny of the false gods (the Tribunal), the pain of individual existence, and the limitations of mortality, uniting them all within his perfect, divine dream.

This is reflected in his language. He refers to himself as the “dreamer” who has awoken from a “long sleep,” and his followers are called “Dreamers” and “Sleepers”. This directly invokes the cosmology of the Godhead. Dagoth Ur’s awakening is a direct threat to the stability of the entire Aurbis, as he seeks to impose his dream over the Godhead’s original. He is a cancer within the cosmic mind. This ambition is a twisted, failed version of achieving Amaranth. Instead of having the love and understanding required to birth a new, separate dream, he attempts to violently hijack and overwrite the current one. His is the path of usurpation, not creation, making him a metaphysical tragedy of cosmic proportions: a being who came tantalizingly close to the ultimate purpose of the universe, only to corrupt it into a nightmare.

Enantiomorphic Betrayal

The conflict between Nerevar and Dagoth Ur, both in the past and in the present of the game, perfectly fits a mythological archetype known as the enantiomorph. This is a pattern of conflict involving three distinct roles: a ruling King, a Rebel who challenges his authority, and an Observer who witnesses the betrayal and is often maimed or transformed by the event. The key to the enantiomorph is that the roles are often subjective and can shift depending on one’s perspective.

The events at the Battle of Red Mountain can be mapped onto this pattern in several ways, depending on which unreliable narrative one accepts:

• In the Tribunal’s narrative, Nerevar is the King of the Chimer. He is challenged by the traitorous Dagoth Ur, the Rebel. The Tribunal, as Nerevar’s loyal advisors, act as the Observer, and are forced to inherit power after both King and Rebel fall.
• In the Ashlander narrative, Nerevar is the King. He is betrayed and murdered by the Tribunal, who are the Rebels seeking to usurp his power. Voryn Dagoth, faithfully guarding the Heart, is the Observer who witnesses this foul murder and is driven mad by it, becoming Dagoth Ur.

The main quest of Morrowind is a conscious re-enactment of this same mythological pattern. Centuries later, Dagoth Ur has become the secret, dreaming King of Red Mountain, his influence spreading across the land. The Nerevarine is the prophesied Rebel, an outsider sent to challenge and overthrow him. And Vivec, the last of the Tribunal, now plays the role of the Observer, guiding the Rebel and awaiting the outcome of a conflict that will seal his own fate and the fate of his people. The player is thus cast into a mythic role, destined to repeat a pattern of betrayal and usurpation that lies at the very heart of Dunmer history.

Table of Accounts ✨

The Divine Diseas

The central conflict of Morrowind is driven by a unique and terrifying plague. The corprus disease is not merely a biological illness but a metaphysical contagion, the primary tool through which Dagoth Ur wages his war against the Tribunal and all of Tamriel. It is the physical manifestation of his divine, solipsistic philosophy: a theological weapon designed to unmake the world and reshape it in his own image.

The Nature of Corprus

From the outset, corprus is framed as something beyond a natural disease. The Telvanni wizard Divayth Fyr, the foremost expert on the condition, calls it the “Divine Disease,” describing its magical principles as “elusive and miraculous, far more subtle and powerful than any conventional sorcery or enchantment”. He is persuaded it is “in some manner the curse or blessing of a god. Perhaps both a curse and a blessing”. This paradoxical nature is reflected in its symptoms. For its victims, it is an agonizing affliction, causing horrific, tumorous growths, constant pain, and a complete loss of sanity, transforming them into savage monsters. Yet, it also confers divine gifts: victims become completely immune to all other diseases, natural or magical, and they cease to age, granting them a form of monstrous immortality.

The source of this divine power is unequivocally the Heart of Lorkhan. Corprus is a direct result of Dagoth Ur’s unique and sustained connection to the Heart’s raw creative energy. It is, in essence, an uncontrolled torrent of divinity being forced into mortal flesh. Lorkhan, the “dead god,” is the architect of the mortal plane, a being of duality whose very existence represents the interplay between creation and limitation, suffering and transcendence. Corprus is this Lorkhanic duality weaponized. It offers a divine gift, immortality; at the cost of everything that makes one mortal: form, sanity, and selfhood. It is the agonizing, difficult path to a corrupted form of godhood, made manifest as a plague.

Blight as Vector, Corprus as Apotheosis

While corprus is the ultimate expression of Dagoth Ur’s power, it is not his only weapon. The more common affliction plaguing Vvardenfell is the Blight. The Blight diseases, such as Ash-Chancre and Black-Heart Blight, are distinct from corprus. They are curable (though difficultly so) illnesses spread by the foul ash storms that blow from the crater of Red Mountain. The Blight corrupts the land, kills crops, and infects the native wildlife, making creatures unnaturally aggressive and strong.

The relationship between the two is hierarchical and strategic. The Blight is the precursor and delivery system for the Divine Disease. It is widely understood that a Blight disease, if left untreated, will eventually progress and transform into the incurable state of corprus. In this model, the Blight is the widespread, mundane corruption of the physical world, while corprus is the targeted, metaphysical corruption of the individual soul. One theory even posits that the Blight diseases were failed biological experiments by Dagoth Ur in his attempt to perfect the transformative properties of corprus.

This reveals a brilliant two-pronged assault on Morrowind. The Blight is a weapon of attrition, waging a physical war against the province’s economy, ecology, and the health of its people. This is a war the Tribunal and the Empire can comprehend and fight through conventional means, such as maintaining the Ghostfence to contain the spread. Corprus, however, is an unconventional, metaphysical weapon. It attacks not the body politic, but the very souls of the Dunmer. The Tribunal, having lost their divine inspiration and settled into a “dogged dutifulness”, are equipped to fight the physical war but are philosophically and spiritually bankrupt, unable to counter the existential threat of Dagoth Ur’s divine dream. This is precisely why they require the Nerevarine: a hero who operates on the same mythic, metaphysical level as their enemy, capable of fighting a war of belief and destiny, not just of swords and spells.

The Corprusarium and the Last Dwemer

The epicenter of corprus study is the Corprusarium, a dungeon-like sanitarium located in the caverns beneath the tower of Tel Fyr. It is maintained as the personal “hobby” of the ancient and amoral wizard Divayth Fyr. Fyr collects corprus victims not out of compassion, but out of a detached academic curiosity. He sees the disease as a “profound and glorious mystery” and its victims as fascinating subjects for his research into immortality. His callous disregard for the immense suffering of his “inmates” serves as a stark example of the Telvanni pursuit of knowledge and power devoid of morality.

The most significant resident of the Corprusarium is Yagrum Bagarn, the last known living Dwemer. He survived his race’s mysterious disappearance at the Battle of Red Mountain because he was traveling in an “Outer Realm” at the time. Upon returning to Nirn and finding his people gone, he eventually wandered back to Red Mountain, where he contracted corprus. It is the disease’s gift of immortality that has allowed him to survive for over 4,000 years.

Yagrum’s presence is deeply symbolic. He is a living relic of the Dwemer’s original sin: their hubristic attempt to create a god and achieve immortality by tampering with the Heart of Lorkhan. It is the ultimate cosmic irony that he is kept alive by a disease that is a direct, albeit twisted, consequence of that very same divine power. He is a living testament to both the ambition of his people and the catastrophic failure of their endeavor.

This reframes the purpose of Divayth Fyr’s collection. The Corprusarium is more than a prison or a hospice; it is a living museum of hubris. Fyr collects his inmates like rare artifacts, and his most prized specimen is Yagrum Bagarn, a living memory of a failed apotheosis. The other inmates are the ongoing result of Dagoth Ur’s own attempt at apotheosis. The Corprusarium, therefore, is a library of failed gods, where the books are the twisted bodies of those who were touched by divinity and broken by its power. Divayth Fyr acts as the amoral librarian, studying these cautionary tales to unlock the secrets of godhood for himself, while ensuring he never suffers the same fate.

The End of the Dream

The narrative architecture of The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind is a masterwork of interactive myth-making, built upon the Kirkbridean principles of subjective reality, metaphysical depth, and participatory lore. The game deliberately eschews a singular, objective truth, instead presenting a world where history is a fluid collection of contradictory myths and reality itself is a dream susceptible to the force of will.

The central conflict between the hero Nerevar and the antagonist Dagoth Ur is not a simple historical rivalry but a recurring mythological archetype, the enantiomorph; replaying itself across millennia. Nerevar is a question mark at the center of history, a role the player is destined to define, while Dagoth Ur is a tragic figure twisted into a metaphysical cancer, a failed Amaranth seeking to overwrite reality with his own divine nightmare. Their struggle is waged not only on the physical plane but on the metaphysical, with the “Divine Disease” corprus serving as a theological weapon; a paradoxical plague that embodies the corrupted divinity of the dead god Lorkhan.

Ultimately, Morrowind’s greatest achievement is the role it assigns to the player. By refusing to provide a canonical answer to its central mysteries, the game empowers the player to become the final arbiter of truth. The story is not complete until the player has sifted through the lies and legends, interpreted the prophecies, and enacted their own “c0da” by confronting Dagoth Ur in the heart of the volcano. The player’s victory is more than the salvation of a province; it is the successful imposition of one narrative reality over another, the final word in a historical debate thousands of years old.

The enduring legacy of Morrowind stems from this profound respect for its audience. It is a game that presents a complex, alien, and deeply philosophical world, trusting its players to find their own meaning within the dream of a sleeping god. The story of Nerevar and Dagoth Ur is timeless not because it is one story, but because, through the lens of the Dragon Break and the ethos of C0DA, it is all of them at once.