HORRORS OF THE 41ST MILLENNIUM: THE TYRANIDS.

28/6/2022

the Tyranids not only reflect Lovecraft's more profound, cosmic horror, but also those that are intimate and human: they evoke phobic response to creatures that might cause us harm. Snakes, spiders, reptiles; all and many more examples from within nature have been used as fodder for the various strains of alien horror represented by the Tyranid race.

Back in its earliest days, the now-iconic grim-dark, science-fiction dystopia of Games Workshop's Warhammer 40 000 universe was a veritable grab-bag of idea and influences. Whatever the then-fledgling setting could assimilate, subtly reimagine and make its own, it did, its inspirations ranging from comic books (most notably the likes of 2000 AD) to cinema, from horror and science fiction literature (Lovecraft, Moorcock, Azimov, Le Guin, Dick are but a few of the notables whose influence can be felt throughout the universe, its various species, cultures and wider metaphysics) to cinema.

Aesthetically, one of the most pervasive and influential artists of the era was the creator of eponymous xenomorph from the Alien franchise, the zeitgeist-defining H.R. Giger. Already massively influential in cinema and video games (one of the most revolutionary franchises of the era, Nintendo's Metroid, was a direct result of efforts to bring Giger's peculiar aesthetic to a video game format), it was only a matter of time before his work became cannibalised and reinvented as a source of alien horror within the 41st millennium.

The first and most notable manifestation of this phenomena came in the universe's own incarnation of the “xenomorph” itself: The “Ymgarl Genestealers.” Originally an attempt to craft a similarly gribbly, parasitic alien horror for the game setting, they were notably removed from both the race that would eventually become The Tyranids and also from their later incarnations. A number of tertiary boardgame systems (the mass-produced Space Crusade and tense, horror-action game Space Hulk) massively reinvented the Genestealers, making them aesthetically much closer to their Giger-conceived inspiration but also tying them closer to the Tyranid race that, up until that point, were little more than a scattershot entry in a number of rule and background books, with little to note or distinguish them. In the sub-system Tyranid Attack, a full background was detailed for the Tyranid species for the first time, as well as their more defined aesthetics and recognisable iconography established:

A pan-galactic biological horror, the Tyranids drew inspiration from not only Giger's “xenormorph,” but a number of science-fiction horror sources, including John Carpenter's The Thing, Predator, the body-horror works of David Cronenberg and more Lovecraftian horror than can be comfortably catalogued.

A mysterious, animalistic species from beyond the fringes of the known galaxy, the Tyranids were described as the ultimate end of all things: a swarming, locust-like mass of monsters that spread from planet to planet, galaxy to galaxy, stripping worlds bare of their biological matter (even down to stripping minerals from rocks and microbial matter from the atmosphere) before moving on to the next apocalypse. The biological matter they consumed was used in the wombs and bellies of their titanic, living vessels (whale-like leviathans capable of traversing the void of space in the manner that titanic ocean life swims the seas of Earth) to produce more and more varied organisms, which gestate until the “Hive Fleets” enter orbit around a likely world. The process repeats and repeats and repeats endlessly, without any apparent wider goal other than mindless, animal consumption and the extinction of all non-Tyranid life. With every world consumed, every species devoured, the Tyranids exhibit new strains of hyper-evolution, developing new sub-species and strains of creature based on requirement or evolutionary experiment.

And thus, the Tyranids evolved to become what they are today: An established species within the many and varied menageries of the 40K universe, and one that manifests a particular kind of cosmic horror:

Not only are the various beasts and monsters manifested by the Hive Fleets horrific in form and behaviour, but collectively, the Tyranids manifest a species of horror that fans of Lovecraft and his particular strain of cosmic, unknowable dread might well recognise: Of all the species in the Warhammer 40 000 universe, the Tyranids are arguably the most alien in terms of their natures and motivations. Whereas others -such as the humanoid Aeldari and football hooligan-inspired Orks- are archetypes derived from the fantasy settings Games Workshop originally operated in -and are therefore recognisably emblematic of certain human concerns and preoccupations-, the Tyranids are as far removed from such concepts as can be rendered in fiction and the associated model range:

In terms of nature and motivation, they are an insolulable mystery. Deriving from areas of space beyond human exploration or understanding, their origins are unknown, as is their ultimate agenda (if, indeed, they even boast such). Certain figures both within the universe itself (most notably those xeno-biologists given to study such matters) and who are fans thereof have provided any number of speculations on the matter (one theory states that they are literally biological weapons run amok; efforts by some race far more ancient than humanity to wipe out the factors that feed the metaphysical evils of the universe, but that have expanded far beyond any such restraint or control). Whatever the truth, the mystery of the Tyranids is one of their most abiding and attractive characteristics: no one knows where they come from or why they operate as they do. Even were such matters to become known, they are so utterly alien both in form and nature, it likely wouldn't make sense to any but the Tyranids themselves. That lack of knowing, that inability to understand or comprehend, is part and parcel of the horror that makes the Tyranids so fascinating. All other species in the 40K universe, no matter how alien or abstruse, boast fairly identifiable interests and agendas (from the Aeldari's desperate struggle to avoid the extinction they brought upon themselves to the Tau's dubious idealism and Utopian ideals). The Tyranids do not; their only conceivable interest is animal; that is, to mindlessly hunt, murder and consume. In and of itself, this is terrifying in its simplicity; a single-minded, animal myopia whose purity is beyond the ken or reason of humanity.

But it does nothing to explain their wider purpose or what drives them:

A notable phenomena that marks a Tyranid invasion has become known as “The Shadow in the Warp.” In the 40K universe, almost all sentient species are psychically bound to an alternative dimension; a chaotic, miasmic reality of utter abstraction and potential, where ideas and emotions are as significant and material as meterological phenomena in the waking world, where every experience of sentient beings has a corresponding echo. Most entities are dully unaware of this connection, or only experience it in the most unconscious manner. Those dubbed “psykers” by humanity are generally those who boast some genetic mutation that makes them more keenly attuned to the Warp and able to channel or shape its energies to some degree. The Tyranids have the peculiar effect of smothering The Warp itself, rendering it disturbingly inert, which renders those otherwise connected to it paranoid, anxious, unreasonably afraid. In extreme cases, they begin to hallucinate and experience physical symptoms (that can range from mild to nigh lethal). Psykers are affected most powerfully, the Shadow not only separating them from the source of their power and extended senses but also manifesting truly hideous phenomena such as the chattering of unseen insects, which can drive those unprepared to madness and worse.

The Shadow itself is evidence of a wider power that drives the Tyranids in their insatiable swarms across the cosmos: a gestalt intelligence that makes them so much more than mere animals: Whilst the nature of this intelligence is a matter of much debate, it is generally accepted that it manifests amongst the Tyranids themselves via certain more complex “synapse” entities; larger, more evolutionarily costly creatures that serve as lynchpins within the swarms, psychically directing lesser entities that might otherwise revert to their animal instincts. This phenomena, generally referred to as “The Hive Mind” isn't some distant puppet-master or unseen god, but the collective intelligence of the Tyranids themselves: each individual entity within the Tyranid swarms is but a cell or organ of the wider beast, manifested within the Hive Fleets, and of which The Hive Mind is the guiding intelligence. Quite what this mysterious force's intentions are remains unknown -and likely unknowable-, but it is certainly inimical to the existence of humanity and every other species within the 40K universe.

Echoing cosmic and extra-dimensional phenomena in Lovecraft's canon of short stories and novellas, The Hive Mind is an unknowable and ineffable alien force that neither cares for humanity nor even acknowledges its significance, save as something to be consumed, rendered down and, ultimately, digested into extinction. Within the Tyranid purview, humanity is just another reservoir of biological matter and information. It exists to be drained dry, discarded and forgotten, along with every other species that fancies itself the prime mover on the galactic stage. This echoing, cosmic insignificance is part and parcel of the truly soul-shuddering horror Lovecraft attempted to express through his writings, and is a perfect subject to be explored and expressed within the Warhammer 40 000 universe, where every force, system and phenomena is designed to emphasise the utter insignificance not only of individual humanity, but of entire cultures and species. The Tyranids are evolutionary purity in a manner that is terrible to conceive of; Darwinian principle manifested and set loose to endlessly demonstrate the lack of poetry or wider meaning to life itself. Whereas other species within the universe are coloured by tensions and contradictions, the Tyranids are not: there is no doubt or uncertainty, no conflicting ideologies or philosophies within the Tyranid race. They are supreme concentration of interest and agenda, in a way that's almost inconceivable to human beings, who are born to confusion and largely die in the same condition. They are simultaneously the answer to all of the galaxy's ills -a Tyranid victory in the known galaxy means an end to wars and atrocities and genocides that have spanned millennia, and fed the abstract horrors of The Warp such that they have begun to spill into waking reality en masse- but also an answer that no one can countenance; living engines of extinction whose victory will not only mean the sterilisation of material reality, but also of the Warp itself. They are the death of gods, daemons and angels; the end of myth and poetry, fear and wonder.

In that, they are more terrible and epically horrifying than almost anything yet encountered or conceived within the setting, rendering more mundane horrors almost impotent by comparison. Even the Chaos Powers -dark gods coalesced from all the worst and most extreme drives of sentient species- fear The Shadow in the Warp more than anything, as it is antithetical to the broiling turbulence and extremes of emotion on which they rely to sustain themselves. Gods fear the Tyranids, as well they should.

Beyond their vast and expansive cosmic horror, the Tyranids also manifest various microcosmic atrocities: hyper-evolved to be perfect killing machines, they sport exaggerations of characteristics demonstrated by various forms of terrestrial animal, from bugs and insects to birds and reptiles. In that, they trigger primal, arguably genetically-encoded responses in human beings, most notably those parts of us that have learned to fear scurrying, slithering, arachnid, insectile or reptilian creatures. Combining aspects of all of these, the Tyranids are all and none: spiders, snakes, jellyfish, squids, bats and even dinosaurs lend something to their many and varied anatomies. In truth, there's little in biology or anatomy that hasn't been mined to provide the present-day Tyranids with their peculiar aesthetic. Even their weapons aren't crafted artefacts but cultivated symbiotes, entities in and of themselves that bond with their bearer, each exhibiting not only hideous body-horror effects (the “Flesh Borer” rifles carried by many Tyranid organisms, for example, shoot streams of fast-growing carniverous beetles that either spatter and acidically dissolve flesh and armour or chew through and parasitically infest their targets) but also their own natures, imperatives and impulses (in extreme cases, such as with regards to the living artillery of the “Exocrine,” it's the weapon-symbiote whose intelligence guides the partnership, as the immense beast itself is little but a living weapons platform and transport system).

In this, the Tyranids not only reflect Lovecraft's more profound, cosmic horror, but also those that are intimate and human: they evoke phobic response to creatures that might cause us harm. Snakes, spiders, reptiles; all and many more examples from within nature have been used as fodder for the various strains of alien horror represented by the Tyranid race. From insects whose parasitic life-cycles are manifest body-horror mythologies to predators whose myriad stings, bites, venoms and other weaponry are horrific in terms of their effects, the Tyranids are reflections and exaggerations of them all.

Perhaps most pertinently, the Tyranids represent the animal horror of being outdone in evolutionary terms: the horror of nature itself. Unlike the status quo in waking life, where humanity's various expansions and industries pose a marked and evident threat to other lifeforms (and, indeed, the very eco-systems of this planet), the Tyranids are a fictional representation of cosmic repercussion: the Tyranids disregard all notions of ecology save their own. They do not exhibit technology or industry in any understandable form. They cannot be reasoned or bargained with: they have all of the unstoppable purity of predatory beasts but also the uncanny intelligence and acumen of a sapient creature. Beyond that, they are evolved to a point that any industrialised or technological form of military response is all but meaningless against them: even in the science fiction setting of the 41st Millennium, where technology has advanced to the point that it may as well be magical or miraculous (and, in some instances, is treated as such), very little can equal or effectively defend against the biological onslaught of the Tyranids in all of their horror.

They are manifest evidence of evolutionary redundancy: in purely Darwinian terms, the true inheritors of this universe, so far beyond other species in terms of evolutionary advancement as to make them seem stagnant and redundant by comparison. The ultimate, horrific irony is: in that advancement, they are also spiritually empty and corrosive. The Tyranid victory is a difficult thing to imagine or comprehend, as it seems as though the species would continue to advance and consume until there is literally nothing left in creation but its own seething bio-mass, every world in reality stripped bare of matter, leaving the composite, pan-galactic entity that is the species no choice but to either burn itself out, starving for want of more biomass, or to evolve further; becoming a species that seeds its own eco-systems and cannibalises its own creations for want of survival. Part of what makes the Tyranids so terrifying is the lack of an end-game. Almost all other species in the 40K universe boast some identifiable ideology or agenda, some ideal -however warped or twisted- they are fighting to maintain or realise.

The Tyranids boast nothing of the sort, other than the animal imperative to consume, consume, consume. That vaccuum, more than their forms or aesthetics, renders them alien and unknowable in the most Lovecraftian way, the abstract abyss at their core perhaps the most profoundly terrifying aspect of their existence.