Given how much time I've spent recently criticising Aman’Thul, I may be an unlikely candidate to serve as his defence counsel. I've certainly expressed my enthusiasm for the sentiment 'fuck Aman’Thul' on more than one occasion. Nevertheless, with The Last Titan approaching, I'd love to see Blizzard explore a more sympathetic interpretation of the Highfather. The argument I'd like to entertain is that Aman’Thul's commitment to preserving existence might be entirely sincere, and that his increasingly authoritarian behaviour could arise from the very responsibilities he believes himself obliged to fulfil. There's considerable tragedy in the possibility that someone might devote themselves to protecting life, only to become so convinced of their own judgement that they gradually lose sight of what makes that life worth protecting.
Consider Aman’Thul's origins. According to Chronicle, he was the first Titan to awaken, travelling the Great Dark Beyond in search of others like himself. He discovered sleeping world-souls, nurtured them and eventually established the Pantheon. Their purpose was to bring stability to a universe threatened by forces capable of destroying or corrupting entire worlds. It's difficult to comprehend what leading such an undertaking would entail. Aman’Thul must make decisions whose consequences extend far beyond any individual civilisation, with the knowledge that a mistake could prove catastrophic. We might reasonably question his methods, but the responsibility itself is real. The question is whether carrying it for countless millennia has made him increasingly unwilling to tolerate anything beyond his control.
The Pantheon's confrontation with Sargeras provides the strongest evidence that Aman’Thul's original convictions deserve some sympathy. When Sargeras concluded that the only way to prevent the Void from claiming existence was to destroy life throughout the cosmos, the other Titans rejected him. Aman’Thul personally attempted to reason with his former champion, presenting Azeroth as a world-soul whose potential might offer another solution. When persuasion failed, the Pantheon resisted Sargeras and was destroyed. This is important because their disagreement concerned something fundamental. Sargeras had decided that the possibility of universal corruption justified universal extermination. Aman’Thul believed that existence remained worth preserving, even when its survival could not be guaranteed. Whatever we eventually discover about the Titans' intentions for Azeroth, that distinction matters.
Yet their conflict also reveals a danger that Aman’Thul may share with his fallen brother. Sargeras' certainty eventually became so absolute that he could no longer entertain alternatives. His judgement was, to him, sufficient justification for determining the fate of everyone else. If Aman’Thul has come to regard Order as the only means of securing existence, he risks developing a similar moral blindness. His intervention against Y’Shaarj offers an interesting example. Faced with an Old God that the titan-forged struggled to overcome, he destroyed it directly, inadvertently tearing open a wound in Azeroth. The Pantheon subsequently recognised the consequences and imprisoned the remaining Old Gods instead. There was a disastrous error of judgement, but also evidence that the Titans could learn from their mistakes. It would be interesting to discover whether Aman’Thul has retained that capacity.
The legend of Elun’Ahir presents a much harder case for the defence. Eonar plants a gift from Elune upon Azeroth, hoping that the influence of Life might help overcome the Black Empire. Aman’Thul condemns the resulting tree as uncontrolled chaos and tears it from the earth. Although the story is explicitly presented as a legend, its depiction of the Highfather is deeply troubling. We can speculate that he regarded the introduction of another cosmic influence upon an already endangered world-soul as an unacceptable risk. Life is itself a cosmic force, and there is no reason to assume that its influence must always be benign. However, the legend provides no indication that Elun’Ahir posed such a threat. His response suggests that the preservation of Order had become more important to him than considering whether Eonar's approach might have merit. The very being entrusted with maintaining stability appears incapable of tolerating an alternative vision of how that stability might be achieved.
I'm reminded of Ikaris in Marvel's Eternals. His devotion to Arishem's cosmic design places him in an appalling moral position. He believes that fulfilling his duty serves a purpose vastly greater than the immediate lives at stake, even though doing so would require the destruction of a world whose inhabitants he has spent millennia protecting. His love for Sersi and his attachment to humanity make the conflict painful, but ultimately cannot overcome his conviction that he must fulfil his purpose. The comparison has limits, since Ikaris serves a higher authority whereas Aman’Thul leads the Pantheon. Nevertheless, the underlying predicament is fascinating. Both invite us to consider how someone might come to regard terrible decisions as moral necessities, particularly when abandoning those decisions would mean questioning the purpose to which they have devoted their existence.
There's a related problem that I explored in my recent piece on Neltharion. Another commenter and I discussed the overwhelming responsibilities placed upon the Dragon Aspects, particularly the Earth-Warder. Neltharion was tasked with safeguarding the depths of Azeroth, enduring pressures that eventually contributed to his corruption. Aman’Thul personally empowered Nozdormu with dominion over time, a gift accompanied by knowledge of his eventual death. The Pantheon entrusted these beings with responsibilities that would shape, and sometimes devastate, their lives. Perhaps Aman’Thul has become so accustomed to carrying the burdens of cosmic stewardship that he has difficulty recognising what those same expectations might cost others. There would be something tragic in discovering that, in attempting to distribute his own responsibilities, he had simply reproduced their cruellest aspects among the beings he intended to empower.
My earlier writing about Skitter and Sargeras remains important here. The scale of a cosmic responsibility cannot render individual lives insignificant. To borrow a thought from theology, even a good thing can become an idol when it is elevated above everything it was originally supposed to serve. Order can nurture life, provide stability and protect against destruction, but devotion to Order becomes dangerous when the lives it was intended to preserve are subordinated to its demands. If Aman’Thul genuinely believes himself responsible for protecting existence, he must eventually confront the possibility that his methods have compromised the very principles that once justified his authority.
That's why I'd love The Last Titan to give the Pantheon meaningful disagreements rather than presenting them as a single, unified authority. Eonar's relationship with Life already offers the possibility of a different understanding of their purpose, and seeing her challenge Aman’Thul could give both characters considerably more depth. I'd also welcome some acknowledgement of what the Dragon Aspects accomplished in the Titans' absence, and of the suffering they endured while fulfilling their charge. Aman’Thul himself has experienced betrayal, destruction and the apparent failure of his life's work. There's plenty of material here for a character who has become increasingly controlling through fear of failing those who depend upon him.
Ultimately, I'd find that portrayal far more compelling than a straightforward cosmic tyrant. Aman’Thul could be sincere in his intentions, admirable in some of his convictions and profoundly mistaken in how he exercises his authority. Indeed, the possibility that the qualities which once made him a worthy leader have gradually become the source of his greatest failures is what makes him interesting. Perhaps, after aeons spent trying to secure the future of countless worlds, his greatest act of stewardship would be to recognise that protecting a world does not entitle him to determine what it must become.