What Two Sequels Taught Me About Representation - Part 1

Image description: Today, I am discussing two sequels and two characters in those sequels. On the left, we have Taash, who comes from the fourth game in the Dragon Age video game series; on the right, we have Hyun-ju from season two of the Korean TV series, Squid Game. These characters are very different in many ways, but they both teach valuable lessons about how to represent minority identities. In today's post, I'm focusing on Taash and where the game's attempts to represent non-binary identities went wrong, as well as what I'd like representation of all kinds to learn from these mistakes.

As a nerd, I have come to fear sequels to my favorite pieces of media. At best, they are often mediocre or even unnecessary follow-ups to far superior source material; at worst, they are insultingly or laughably bad degradations of that source material that can completely kill my interest in a franchise, world, or set of characters. So naturally, I felt a bit stressed to know that 2024 was going to give me sequels to two very different pieces of media that are nevertheless both very important to me.

The first of these sequels was the fourth installment of the fantasy video game series, Dragon Age, a topic I’ve discussed on the blog a great deal already. The newest game, Dragon Age: The Veilguard, has been the subject of a lot of discussion on the blog lately as well, and unfortunately for all the wrong reasons; as you might suspect, DATV falls into the category of worst-case sequel scenarios for me, which only made me even more anxious for the other highly anticipated sequel that 2024 gave me. Right at the end of the year, I finally got to experience the long-awaited second season of the Korean drama that got me hooked on the genre: Squid Game.

Although the three-year wait for this sequel was only a fraction of the monster decade-long wait for Dragon Age, I was nevertheless concerned that I would have to witness Squid Game season two fumble the ball the way far too many pieces of media do. Luckily, however, the second season surpassed my expectations, not even falling into the usual “mediocre at best” category, but doing what K-Dramas tend to excel at – delivering a good story, engaging characters, and a truly meaningful ride. In that sense, both of these pieces of media stand as a sort of “best” and “worst” of how to tell a meaningful continuation of a story. But they also, ironically enough, also give me examples to draw from on some of the best and worst representation I’ve seen in recent memory.

As a blog about asexual and aromantic representation in media, I tend to, of course, focus on those things most predominantly. However, good representation has the power to teach everyone valuable lessons that can have positive outcomes for many identities beyond just the identity being represented; in a similar way, bad representation can do the exact opposite, and can cause deeper and broader problems for people of all identities. In the case of Dragon Age: The Veilguard and Squid Game season two, although the representation is not aspec representation, I believe what we do see gives us a lot to talk about regarding the concept of representation in general.

This is especially true for two characters: Taash in the former and Hyun-ju in the latter, who represent non-binary and transgender representation respectively. Examining the representation these two characters give us, as well as how the media they’re in handles them, is a big task, so I will be looking at their stories over the next two blog posts. Today, I’m planning to focus specifically on Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Taash, exploring why I believe their non-binary identity was portrayed poorly, why this is a problem for non-binary people and for other minority groups hoping for good representation, and how I think this could have been done better.

Spoiler warning! 

Dragon Age: The Veilguard (plot points related to Taash)

--------------------------------

Some Background and a BIG Disclaimer

Before I get into talking about this topic or either character, I want to add a massive disclaimer to this. As a cisgender woman (meaning I identify as the gender I was born with), I am not qualified to truly dig into the question of whether Taash and Hyun-ju are good non-binary and transgender representation respectively. While I have watched videos and read articles by people who have these identities, their analysis does not speak for everyone – just like my own analysis doesn’t speak for all aspec people, nor does it reflect the breadth and diversity of the asexual and aromantic spectrums. Much like I can only speak to my own experiences and thoughts, so too can these people only speak to theirs.

Similarly, Taash and Hyun-ju are just two characters and they cannot possibly hope to represent everything for their respective identities. As such, their examples are not perfect; they both have good and bad elements to their representation, and elements that may seem otherwise lacking. When I compare and contrast both the good and bad elements, I am not saying the characters themselves are good or bad. Rather, I am interested in exploring how their representation functions within the media they are in and the wider world that consumes this media.

Apart from these things, there’s also the obvious fact that these two characters are very different, not only in their stories and identities, but in the media they’re found in – Taash is a romancable companion in a fantasy video game series, while Hyun-ju is a side character in a modern-day action survival K-Drama airing on Netflix. As such, they cannot possibly be portrayed in the same way, nor can they be analyzed in exactly the same manner either. But I believe that their portrayals nevertheless serve to teach us about the strength of writing characters, and that representation requires a lot more than just having a character exist in a universe.

When I talk about representation, I do so believing there is a right and a wrong way to do things, and I believe these two characters – who happen to have appeared less than two months apart from one another – show that dichotomy very well. I think there is a lot to learn from both characters, and I sincerely hope that talking about them allows that to happen. I believe the lessons these characters teach us about representation are proof of how representation can function for a lot of different identities, my own included, and having these examples to study is extremely important. And so, with that in mind, let’s dive in.

Let’s Talk About Taash – The Good, The Bad, and the Bharv

Anyone who has read the blog, especially this year, is probably not only familiar with Dragon Age, but with Dragon Age: The Veilguard and its many problems. And truly, I don’t mean to keep dogpiling on it, especially since – as I’ve said in those other posts – I didn’t actually play the game, and thus many of my observations aren’t even firsthand. I especially never had any intention to discuss Taash, the game’s sadly controversial non-binary character, as they are often an easy target for people to make commentary on, both deservedly and undeservedly. While many of the scenes I have seen of Taash are rightly critiqued and criticized, there is no denying that a lot of further criticism of them is steeped in an unfortunate amount of bigotry.

But, as I’ve discussed in other posts, I do believe Taash’s representation can be seen as a missed opportunity and suffers from a great deal of wasted potential, something which became more obvious to me after seeing examples of better kinds of representation. And so, although I have no desire to continue to pile criticism on them, I think highlighting their story and what they represent is essential to make the point at the heart of this post, which is to say that I desperately hope aspec representation doesn’t follow the same formula as BioWare did for Taash.

Image description: The first promo image for Taash

Perhaps the biggest instance of wasted potential for this character is that there’s actually a lot to be said about Taash as good representation behind the scenes. For instance, their writer, Trick Weekes, is themselves non-binary, as is Taash’s voice actor, Jin Maley. Unfortunately, Taash’s non-binary representation as seen in-game tends to be boiled down to two scenes in particular, neither of which are especially well done and, in general, seem to be poorly received as a result: when Taash comes out to their mother and the infamous “pulling a Bharv” scene.

I’ll cover Taash’s coming out scene a little later, so for now, let’s look at the latter of those two scenes, which I think seriously hampers Taash’s role as good representation. In the scene, a returning fan-favorite character – the saucy pirate Isabela from Dragon Age 2 – is telling the assembled group a story about her time going on adventures with Taash, during which she refers to Taash as “she.” Upon realizing her mistake, Isabela begins doing push-ups, and when the others ask her what she’s doing, she explains she’s “pulling a Bharv,” an act which is named after a member of her crew whose “plans went sideways a lot.” In lieu of “long, drawn-out apologies,” the luxury of which there’s not always time for on the crew, they instead “pull a Bharv” – doing ten push-ups to put things right and keep crew morale high.

Pretty much everyone and their dog has had some sort of commentary about this now-infamous scene, so I won’t belabor the point here, but needless to say this scene is every bit as strange and awkward as my description likely makes it seem. Many people have pointed out that it weirdly takes away from the moment being about Taash and instead makes it about Isabela, something which an actual apology shouldn’t do; for me, however, I also think the act of “pulling a Bharv” makes the entire scene embarrassing. If I was Taash and my friend accidentally misgendered me, the last thing I would want is an over-the-top display of self-admonition when a simple “I’m so sorry, that was an honest slip of the tongue” would suffice.

This raises the question of why this type of apology isn’t utilized, but the game actually addresses this. You as the player character have the option of asking Isabela why this is better than an apology, and she insists that it is, because a quick “sorry” isn’t always genuine, but taking physical action is. Again, this seems to me like convoluted logic, a twisted interpretation of the idea that “the best apology is changed behavior.” Instead of actually demonstrating the resolve to change, the “action” at the heart of this act is literal physical action, which does nothing but grandstand in the moment without the promise of real change.

Worse, it makes the entire moment play like a weirdly out of place joke, taking away the opportunity for character growth or a potentially heartfelt moment between Isabela, Taash, and the rest of the team. After Isabela explains what it means to “pull a Bharv,” another companion character, Bellara, has to do the same thing. What’s her transgression, you might ask? Eating the last of the snacks without asking. Yes, really. In that way, the game can’t seem to decide what this scene actually means. Is misgendering someone a horrible thing that must be immediately corrected in this way to save crew morale and make it clear how sorry you are? Or is the act of misgendering someone on the same level as the act of eating the last snack? Is this supposed to be serious or silly?

Admittedly, I don’t know why this scene is here. Perhaps this is something that Trick Weekes and the other writers involved in Taash’s story have really dealt with and they have their own version of “pulling a Bharv” to keep things running smoothly in the event someone makes this same mistake in real life. Perhaps it’s a technique they know of and they decided to incorporate it into Taash’s story. I tried to find any information on where this scene came from and admittedly didn’t find much, so I can’t say why it’s here. All I can say is that I believe it was implemented horribly and did a massive disservice to Taash, to Isabela, and to the representation storyline they were trying to implement.

Isabela doesn’t misgender Taash out of any type of malice, but rather just out of genuine error – she knew Taash back when they were still using feminine pronouns and, in telling a story of their past adventures together, she accidentally uses the wrong pronoun. It’s something that I imagine happens when getting acquainted with someone’s identity, especially someone we used to know before, and especially when we’re trying to adapt our language accordingly. But to treat it like this strange and uncomfortable thing that can never be discussed creates barriers and divisions where none need exist.

Image description: An image of Taash looking contemplative.

Just recently, a coworker of mine thought they had misgendered me – perhaps she confused “asexual” with “agender,” and quickly tried to switch from “her” to “they” when referring to me via text message. She apologized right away, and when I assured her that “her” was correct, she was relieved to know she hadn’t actually misgendered me. Of course, since I wasn’t actually misgendered in this situation, I can’t really say what the correct course of action should have been, but I think what my coworker did was terrific: she thought she made a mistake, she was quick to try and correct it, and she was quick to offer an apology for what she believed she did wrong. Nothing she did was done out of malice and I believe her willingness to quickly apologize and course correct speaks well of her character, and I wonder why this same approach was not taken with Isabela in the game instead of what we got.

In the quest for acceptance – whether of non-binary identities and their related identities, or of other minority identities in general – why would we want to make people feel bad for making honest mistakes? Why would we make the very act of making a simple mistake into something so shameful that it requires a public demonstration for our benefit? As an aspec person, I could make a lot of people drop to their knees and do pushups everywhere I went, but in my own view, I fail to see how that accomplishes anything. Isabela pulling a Bharv doesn’t affirm Taash’s identity, nor does it teach us as the audience anything about them, their struggles, and how we can be better allies to the non-binary people we may encounter in our own lives.

This is a recurring theme with Taash throughout Veilguard. We see them, we see their non-binary identity, and we are made to understand this element of their personality as part of their larger struggle to define themselves and figure out who they are. But what we’re getting is only the surface of that struggle and what we’re seeing portrayed is only a vague idea of a character, not actual representation. While Taash fits into the dictionary definition of what it means to represent someone or something, their portrayal lacks several things that could actually make it good representation.

What Does Taash Represent?

When discussing Taash as non-binary representation, I think it’s important to start with the basic dictionary definition of representation in the first place, which is chiefly concerned with the idea of how certain aspects of society are presented to an audience. This definition begins to show us the pros and cons of Taash’s portrayal. While Taash allows us to see a non-binary character within a narrative, what is the audience taking away from their portrayal? Is it something that’s a net positive to other non-binary people? This is something that various non-binary people will doubtless have varying opinions on and, as a cisgender fan, I can’t speak to those attitudes. However, as a queer fan looking at this portrayal, I can’t help but imagine how I would feel if my identity was portrayed this way: in short, I wouldn’t be happy.

In my view, there are some serious missteps in how Taash is portrayed, things which have the potential to negatively impact how non-binary people (and queer identities of all kinds) are viewed in real life. These problems start early on in the narrative with Taash’s introduction to the player, during which they are hostile for ostensibly no reason. If this were something we see in isolation, I would be fine with it, but Taash has a tendency to be hostile, flippant, and downright dismissive to the other characters throughout the story. For instance, Taash is quick to call other companions derogatory nicknames, and I find it strange that Taash themselves will get upset over not being accepted, but then seems willing to bully others in similarly uncharitable ways. In this way, their personality comes across not as brusque or rough-and-tumble, but simply just mean.

Image description: An image of Taash looking serious

However, I think this is best highlighted during the scene in which Taash comes out as non-binary to their mother. When we first meet Taash’s mother Shathann, we can clearly see there is tension between mother and child, with Shathann clearly being quick to critique Taash in everything from the way they dress to the way they speak to just the general way they behave. It’s not very surprising that Shathann would be somewhat dismissive of Taash coming out to her, and while she is, she does actually attempt to make an effort to understand.

In fact, if you just look at the writing for the scene alone, Shathann’s responses aren’t actually bad, and it’s more the tone taken in the voice acting that makes her responses seem judgmental. Without that tone, it seems like Shathann is actually attempting to understand Taash’s feelings and translate them into her own parameters to aid her in that understanding. She even seems to feel genuine dismay and remorse when Taash takes her response as criticism, insisting she did not mean the words the way Taash took them, but Taash admonishes her for that and tells her to “say it better.”

I don’t blame Taash for being angry about their circumstances – and, as someone who can often be seen as intense or temperamental myself, not to mention who carries a lot of rage centered around my own identity and how it’s perceived, I don’t think Taash being angry is a bad thing or a thing that needs to change. But I think the game does a poor job of portraying Taash’s anger as valid; rather, they have Taash lash out almost irrationally at people who often don’t deserve it, which unfortunately sends the wrong message. There were plenty of ways the game could have let Taash be angry or own their sense of alienation, and yet, like with so many things in this game, it seems like they dropped the ball and left them as a sadly static and one-dimensional character.

For those reasons and many others, I look at Taash and I see a cautionary tale; I never want aspec representation to be like this and would rather have no representation than this kind, as I fear it would set aspec people back, not move the bar forward, and I think that is extremely unfortunate. This is especially pronounced when you consider that subtle and complex representation is indeed possible – and I’ll be exploring it in my next post when I talk about Squid Game’s Hyun-ju. But despite the many shortcomings of Taash, there are some important lessons we can learn from their portrayal, both about what should be done and what shouldn’t be done.

What Taash Can Teach Us About Representation

My blog is dedicated to exploring both good and bad representation in media, and therefore I believe there is something to be learned even from representation that I would otherwise consider lackluster. In Taash’s case, I think the mistakes that were made with their character can teach us a lot about how representation should function in general, and I also think there were some triumphs to their character that should also serve as models for what to do when representing people of all identities.

For a start, as I mentioned earlier, having Taash be written and voiced by non-binary people is a great thing. While in my own aspec experience, I don’t need to see aspec characters necessarily written and/or portrayed by aspec people as long as they are portrayed well (see, for instance, Todd from BoJack Horseman), I do admit that I also love being able to read stories written by aspec writers where you can tell that the aspec characters represent some element of their own aspec experience or where the representation does something they themselves really value or want to see more of in culture. In my opinion, that is where some of the best representation comes from, and I can tell that the same thing was done for Taash, despite the fatal flaws in its execution.

This poor execution can teach us a great deal as well, especially about how to write the trials and tribulations experienced by characters with minority identities. Minority voices should never have to shrink themselves or censor themselves so that the majority will find them palatable, and I would never advocate for that. However, what I do advocate for is viewing the chance for representation as a precious opportunity. Speaking as someone whose identity is rarely portrayed and which has been portrayed terribly in the past, I know how important it is to take the opportunity when it is given and make the absolute best of it.

I don’t think it’s a bad thing that Taash’s story was about identity – both trying to figure out what culture they truly belong in and in trying to come to terms with their non-binary identity – but I do think that should have been allowed to flourish more organically. Their story should have been one about yearning for belonging and fighting to find a sense of self that had always been felt and yet had long since been denied. Rather than doing physical labor like in the “pulling a Bharv” scene, show me characters doing emotional labor, building trust, relating to each other, and working through their differences.

The sad truth of the matter is that I don’t think Dragon Age: The Veilguard had the ability to actually pull off any of these things. Thanks to its troubled development history, it’s likely that the game and its characters were doomed from the start, and I honestly think that, in a different game within a different franchise, Taash would have been better representation. But since that’s not the world we live in, I can unfortunately only analyze Taash as they are and see the way they were sadly hampered by the reality of the game and its writing choices.

Image description: A larger version of the picture of Taash that I used for this post's cover

Even worse, the rest of the world is not likely to view them with as much charity as I am attempting to give, and therefore the potential exists for this poor portrayal to be a lot of people’s first or only introduction to non-binary representation, a fact which I find more than a little unfortunate. All of this is compounded by the way Taash’s identity is introduced in the first place. Something that jumped out at me right away when seeing the scene on YouTube is how out of place the term “non-binary” feels within the world.

Dragon Age has always had a very diverse cast of characters – bisexual characters to gay and lesbian characters to transgender characters are all portrayed with varying degrees of nuance and respect across all three games. And yet, even the best characters among these do not actually use these terms in the story. For example, Dragon Age: Inquisition’s gay and lesbian characters, Dorian and Sera respectively, never used these terms, even if these things were important parts of their storyline. Likewise with that game’s transgender character, Krem. While I know there has been debate about whether Krem actually constitutes good trans representation because of the fact that he never uses the term, I’ve always loved the character, and value his inclusion in the game.

Again, not being trans myself, I can’t say whether or not actually having the term used in-game is of supreme importance, just like I can’t say the same for Taash. But as an aspec person, I have discussed plenty of times that aspec representation doesn’t necessarily need to use the term to be good, valid, important representation, and I think BioWare could have benefited from its own lessons when representing Taash as non-binary. This leads us to a whole other debate, chiefly in what Taash could have been identified as instead. In the lore of Dragon Age, there is a term that the Qunari – a race which Taash is a part of – have that could actually work in some regards, something which, ironically enough, also plays a part in Krem's story.

Although Krem is never described as transgender on screen, it’s made pretty clear that this is who he is. We meet him as part of the mercenary company working with Iron Bull, one of the Inquisitor’s companions, and being a soldier in Bull’s company has allowed Krem to not only live his life as he wants to be, but also gives him the camaraderie and respect he’s longed for. Bull describes Krem using the Qunari term “aqun-athlok,” which he defines as someone who is born as one gender, but is living as another. Of course, the issue with describing a trans character like Krem as aqun-athlok is that it doesn’t automatically mean a character is trans. In fact, because the Qunari believe in strict roles within society, it’s said that women who are good at fighting can choose to become aqun-athlok, in which they essentially become men in order to fit what is typically a masculine role.

While this is an interesting concept, and while I believe there is certainly space for trans Qunari characters to exist who fall under this umbrella, conflating this identity with being transgender makes it seem like transgenderism is merely a choice, rather than an identity. I know how frustrated I get when people treat aspec identities as a choice, so I can understand why trans players might be uncomfortable with Bull describing Krem in this way. It is, however, entirely possible that Bull is just understanding Krem’s identity in a way that makes sense within the framework of his own culture, rather than actually trying to describe him in a way that doesn’t fit.

This is something we see later with Taash’s mother, who likewise tries to rationalize her child’s identity by thinking that Taash might be aqun-athlok, so the narrative is likewise aware that this could be a possible avenue. Just like it makes sense for Bull to describe Krem this way, it makes sense that Shathann would also see Taash in this light; in fact, if I were writing Taash’s story, I might have had Shathann look at Taash as if they were aqun-athlok to start with. It may have been interesting for the player character and companions to start off thinking of Taash as a woman, only to then meet Shathann and be surprised that she’s referring to Taash as a man. It would then allow the conversation to happen naturally wherein Taash reveals they’re not comfortable identifying as either gender and then a more organic conversation could take place.

Overall, however, I don’t think it’s my place to say whether Taash being identified as non-binary in the game should have happened or not, and I believe non-binary fans should come to their own conclusions about whether using the term in-game was a good or bad thing. But, as far as I’m concerned, the “issues” with Taash as non-binary representation aren’t really about the terminology at all, but how it’s portrayed at various points throughout the game. For instance, there is a codex entry that can be found that is clearly meant to be a scrap of Taash’s writing after they go and discuss gender identity with some other people and the writing is… a choice.

While some of the writing is clearly meant to emulate field notes, it almost feels like Taash is writing in a strange combination of Tumblr blog post meets caveman speech. They discuss meeting transgender people like Maevaris and Tarquin – whom they describe as “trans” and write notes like “Maevaris pretty. Tarquin tough. Both trans!” or later try to parse out their own feelings about their romantic identity with the notes “No. I like girls. Girls smell good.” It’s interesting to see Taash’s thought process and some of their notes are endearing or amusing, but some of these descriptions feel insulting.

Interestingly enough, the note also makes use of terms such as gender-fluid, agender, and demigender, all of which they use to consider their own self and their own identity, and I have some complicated feelings about this. On the one hand, it’s great to see these terms used; but on the other hand, in a world where characters like Krem, Sera, and Dorian didn’t use terminology, it feels a little like their own merits as characters are being diminished, even though I don’t think that was the intention. For instance, of course Dorian is fantastic gay representation, even if he doesn’t ever describe himself using that, and I think it can easily just be understood that different characters feel comfortable expressing themselves in different ways. But it’s hard not to feel the dissonance between games.

As I said, I know the non-binary community doubtless has conflicting feelings on these terms being used in-game, and I have seen both positive and negative reactions to it. One of the positive reactions I saw on Tumblr made several good points about why having Taash use the term non-binary is actually quite a good thing, because it doesn’t bind their identity to a specific culture the way using a Qunari term might. Another thing they mention is that having Taash describe themselves as non-binary makes it so there is no mistaking their identity, rather than allowing for grey areas and the mischaracterization that can come about thanks to vague representation.

Admittedly, they make a compelling argument here. A few weeks ago, I discussed Lucanis Dellamorte from the same game, a character who was confirmed by his writer to be demisexual and demiromantic, but who was not identified as such in game. While there is a lot of mystery surrounding that claim – all of which I unpack in that particular post – I can confirm that not having Lucanis identify that way in game has allowed for a lot of people to dismiss this part of the character and choose to interpret him differently. Therefore, I can certainly see the validity of using the terms in-game to eliminate any of this grey area; for better or worse, we know Taash is non-binary, and at the very least that’s more of a cut and dry stance than Lucanis and his mysteriously non-canon aspec identity. To that end, this is something that a comment on that Tumblr post addresses as well. While it’s great to see these terms being used, why can’t our terms also be used? More to the point, why are our identities ignored completely?

However, as I stated earlier, I can’t help but feel that I wouldn’t have wanted an aspec character like Lucanis to be portrayed the way Taash is. While I would have loved to see a canonically aspec character finally appear in the Dragon Age franchise, I hate the thought of that identity being used to bully other characters or being so overexaggerated that players felt an immediate dislike for the aspec character or characters in question. Can some of this be chalked up to bigotry and misinterpretation? Of course. But unfortunately, there are several failings when it comes to Taash that prove to me even the best intentioned representation still needs a lot of work.

Image description: Taash smiling. Despite the critiques in this post, I think Taash is a great character who had a lot of potential and a lot of interesting storylines. What frustrates me is the wasted potential their character represented and, in a different piece of media, I think they could have flourished in ways that Dragon Age just didn't allow them

I know a lot of this post probably seemed a bit downbeat or even a little critical, and I promise this is not lobbed at Taash, but rather the entirety of Veilguard. As regular readers of the blog know, Veilguard to me constitutes a huge fumble of so much of Dragon Age as a concept, that it’s difficult for me to like anything about it, its characters, or its writing. But despite that clear bias on my part, I think it’s a great thing that Taash was included as non-binary representation, flawed though it may be, and I hope that one day more levelheaded discussions about their character can take place. I hope too that their example serves as a stepping stone to better representation in the future, even though that may not be in Dragon Age.

In my next post, exploring Squid Game’s Hyun-ju, I promise I will be a bit more optimistic. While Hyun-ju is likewise not perfect, nor was she universally accepted, I think the reactions to her character are more positive for several reasons, chief among them being better writing and implementation of her character. I look forward to diving deeper into her character and highlighting the reasons why I would prefer to see representation follow her example, so I hope you’ll check out part two of this analysis. In that post, I will finish the comparing and contrasting of these two instances of representation, doing my best to look forward to what I hope are opportunities for better representation for all.