By The Intrepid in PDW — 11 Nov 2025

From Raccoon City to Your City: The Civilian Cosplay Complex Explained

Introduction: The Movie Gun Problem

The KRISS Vector is a movie gun.

You've seen it: angular, aggressive, unmistakably futuristic. Mila Jovovich wielding it against zombies in Resident Evil. Call of Duty players hip-firing it in multiplayer. That distinctive profile that says "tactical" louder than any other firearm.

It's also barely used by any serious military or law enforcement organization that isn't fighting the undead in Raccoon City.

The Vector represents something larger than itself: a remarkably efficient system for selling civilians expensive military equipment they don't need, justified as defensive necessity, but actually serving as recreational identity construction.

Welcome to the Civilian Cosplay Complex.

A Note on Perspective

I didn't grow up in gun culture. Suburban Houston, where firearms were rare exceptions—a friend's shotgun birthday present (proudly demonstrated by racking a live shell, because we were being "safe"), a glove box revolver dramatically revealed when a family friend detected "trouble ahead" like something out of a Western, a .22 bolt-action at Boy Scout camp where I earned the marksmanship merit badge in what I remember as surprisingly meditative.

Otherwise, guns were abstractions in TTRPG rulebooks: Traveller, Top Secret, Twilight: 2000. Meticulously cataloged by weight, capacity, range, and damage. Stats on paper. Sharp angles and psychedelic color schemes in Borderlands 2 (300+ hours logged, weapons literally conjured from statistical algorithms).

Guns re-entered my life in June 2019 when I took the Intro To Defensive Handgun PST 101 class at Clackamas County Public Safety Training Center and got involved with left-leaning gun groups, online and in person. This wasn't the working-class masculine performance culture that sociologist Andrew McNeely describes trying to escape from his Texas upbringing. It wasn't the "serious leisure" culture that Professor David Yamane entered as an outsider academic. It was something else: progressive gun culture, where the Civilian Cosplay Complex wears different patches but functions identically.

Same expensive gear purchases, different justifications. Not "home defense" but "community defense." Not "Don't Tread on Me" but "Under No Pretext." Not prepping for collapse but "mutual aid." The tribal identity, the hardware signaling, the consumption justified as necessity—all the same. Just with antifascist aesthetics instead of Thin Blue Line.

I participated. Yes, I rolled my eyes at a friend who'd bought one right after the assault weapons ban expired in 2004. Fast forward a decade-plus, and when Beto escalated to "we're coming for your ARs," I ordered the most modestly-priced AR-15 I could find from Palmetto State Armory—a choice that rubbed some Liberal Gun Club folks the wrong way, what with PSA's cerakoted Trump guns and all. The groups I was part of hand-wrung over harm reduction while accumulating tactical gear. We volunteered, we organized, we performed activist identity—and we bought equipment for scenarios we'd never face.

After stepping away from those groups for over a year—exhausted by internal thought policing, the consumerism wrapped in harm reduction rhetoric, the volunteering pressures—I recognized the pattern: I'd been participating in the Civilian Cosplay Complex, just the progressive variant. Same consumption, same optimization theater, same stigmatizing of adequacy, different tribal markers.

Now I carry a Ruger LCP Max. No community. No identity performance. Just adequate capability at appropriate cost. I recently traded down from an AR-9 to a Bodyguard 2.0 because... honestly? Why not help make .380 ACP a thing?

This essay isn't written from outside gun culture looking in, or from inside traditional gun culture looking around. It's written from the position of having participated, recognized the dysfunction, and chosen to extract myself—regardless of which flavor of tactical tribalism was on offer.

The snarky heretic position has its advantages.

Part 1: The Neutered Arsenal

The HMMWV Problem

The Springfield Kuna costs around $1000. It's an AR-style pistol-caliber carbine with a 6.12-inch barrel, M-LOK handguard, and 30-round magazine capacity. Springfield markets it as a "modern sporting pistol" with "defensive capability."

The snarky heretic's analysis: too big to carry concealed, too short to be an effective rifle, chambered in 9mm when a Glock 19 costs half as much and actually fits in a holster. It needs a stabilizing brace to be practical, which adds $200 and ATF complications. Even then, you've spent $1200+ on a gun that does nothing better than a $500 pistol or $700 rifle.

I once had a CZ Scorpion EVO 3 S1 "large format pistol" ("modern sporting rifle" would like to have a word) for a while. Impressively engineered—CZ managed to build a select-fire capable platform out of advanced polymers that actually works under stress. The bolt carrier and barrel are metal, but the rest is essentially tactical Lego that doesn't disintegrate when you shoot it.

I traded it in because owning it was like driving a HMMWV to the corner grocery store: technically capable, wildly impractical, exhausting to maintain, and making a simple task unnecessarily complicated. Essentially, a neutered submachine gun for Walter Mitty.

What SMGs Were Actually For

Submachine guns were designed for one thing: volume of fire at close range.

The Thompson wasn't called the "Chicago Piano" or "Trench Cleaner" because of its precision. It was designed to hose an area with bullets—quantity over accuracy at conversational distances. The Germans had their MP40, the Soviets their PPSh-41, the Finns their Suomi. That iconic 1980 photo of the SAS storming the Iranian Embassy? They're carrying MP5s on full-auto, moving fast through confined spaces, muzzling each other because speed and volume equal survival in close quarters.

The entire point of the submachine gun is selective fire—full-auto when you need to spray an area, semi-auto when you need precision. The selection is the feature.

Remove the select-fire capability and what's left?

A semi-auto pistol-caliber carbine that's:

Heavier than a pistol (less convenient to carry)
Less accurate than a rifle (shorter barrel, pistol round)
Less powerful than a rifle (pistol caliber limits)
More expensive than either (complexity, "tactical" tax)
Unable to do what SMGs were designed for (volume of fire)

You've created a firearm optimized for a use case that doesn't exist in civilian context.

The Vector: Solution Without Problem

The KRISS Vector's innovation—the Super V recoil mitigation system with the bolt traveling downward and back—genuinely works. In full-auto, it noticeably reduces muzzle climb. It's clever engineering.

But remove full-auto capability (required for civilian legal versions) and you've built a solution to a problem your gun can't have. The recoil system's advantage matters most in sustained full-auto fire. In semi-auto 9mm or .45 ACP, recoil is already minimal.

You're paying $1800-2200 for recoil reduction that matters primarily in a firing mode you don't have access to. It's like buying racing suspension for a car that's legally limited to 55 mph.

Few serious military or law enforcement organizations have adopted the Vector at scale. However, every Hollywood prop department has (along with their inventories of Chiappa Rhinos). That tells you everything about its actual purpose: it looks tactical. It feels advanced. It signals identity.

The Regulatory Arbitrage

The Civilian Cosplay Complex exists because of the regulatory line.

Can't have new full-auto? We'll sell you semi-auto guns designed for full-auto use.

Can't buy armor-piercing pistol ammunition? We'll sell you the armor-piercing pistol anyway.

Can't easily SBR without tax stamp and year-long wait? We'll sell you pseudo-PDWs with braces that make no ergonomic sense.

The civilian market for neutered military gear exists because the real thing is restricted. The regulatory boundary created a profitable category: guns that look like what you can't have, cost like what you can't have, but can't do what you can't have.

It's cosplay written into federal law.

Part 2: The Specialty Cartridge Problem

The 5.7×28mm Phenomenon

The FN Five-seveN pistol costs $1200-1400. Its companion P90 runs $1800-2200. Ammunition costs $0.50-1.00 per round.

For comparison: A Glock 19 costs around $500. 9mm ammunition costs $0.25-0.40 per round.

What are you getting for that 2-3× premium?

The 5.7×28mm cartridge was developed in the 1990s for a specific military problem: NATO wanted a Personal Defense Weapon for rear-echelon troops facing enemies in body armor. FN's solution was a small, fast projectile—the SS190 with a steel-core armor-piercing penetrator—that could defeat soft body armor at close range.

The entire system's purpose: penetrate armor that 9mm couldn't.

Here's what civilians get: the gun, the cartridge... and no armor-piercing ammunition. Civilian variants lack the AP projectiles that justified the system's existence. What you can buy are civilian loads: ballistic tip, hollow point, trying to make terminal ballistics work with a 40-grain projectile at high velocity.

Without the armor-penetrating core, you're shooting what amounts to an expensive .22 Winchester Magnum:

.22 WMR: ~40 grains, ~1900 fps, minimal recoil, $0.25-0.40/round

5.7×28mm (civilian): ~40 grains, ~1700-2000 fps, minimal recoil, $0.50-1.00/round

You're paying double for marginally better performance than a cartridge designed for hunting squirrels—and you can't access the armor penetration that justified the system's existence. And rodent's don't wear kevlar, although I'm sure they'd appreciate ballistic plates against pellet guns.

The Pattern

The pattern repeats: .300 Blackout optimized for suppressors you don't have, 6.5 Creedmoor for ranges you won't shoot—specialty cartridges solving problems you don't face at premium prices.

The formula: Military or competition context drives specialized cartridge development → Civilians get access without context → Premium price justified by "superior ballistics" → Actual use doesn't match intended application → You're paying extra for capability you can't access or don't need.

But the P90 was in Stargate SG-1. And it looks really cool.

Part 3: The Economic Model

What The Complex Actually Costs

Let's track a typical enthusiast's trajectory:

Initial Purchase:

Basic pistol: $500-600
Neutered SMG platform: $1200-2000
Boutique system: $1500-2200

"Necessary" Accessories:

Red dot optic: $300-600
Weapon light: $150-300
Backup sights: $100-200
Extra magazines: $150-300
Holster/case: $80-150

Ammunition:

Practice ammo (1000 rounds): $250-400 (9mm) or $500-1000 (specialty)
Defensive ammo (200 rounds): $200-400
Annual practice (2000 rounds): $500-800 or $1000-2000

Training:

Basic course: $200-500
Intermediate: $400-800
Advanced: $800-2000
Annual costs: $200-500

Total First Year:

Basic setup: $2200-3800
Tactical setup: $4000-7000
Premium setup: $5000-10,000

Compare to adequate defensive capability:

Glock 19 or Ruger LCP Max: $400-500
Holster: $50
500 rounds practice: $125
100 rounds defensive: $50
Basic safety course: $100
Total: $725-825

The difference—$1400 to $9000+—is the cost of cosplay.

At this point you could also buy a decent bicycle, schedule a dental cleaning, fix your car's brakes, and pay down some debt—all of which will do more for your longevity than a KRISS Vector. But only the Vector makes you feel like you're in a movie.

The Ongoing Extraction

The genius of the Complex isn't the initial sale—it's the perpetual consumption:

"Optimization": New optics, better lights, upgraded triggers, improved grips—each "improvement" costs $50-400

Ammunition Escalation: More expensive platform requires more expensive practice

Platform Proliferation: Pistol leads to rifle leads to PDW leads to precision platform—each needs accessories

Content & Community: YouTube ad revenue, Instagram commissions, range memberships ($300-800/year), competition fees

Total lifetime engagement: $10,000-100,000+ depending on depth.

For comparison, that's a used car, or four years of state college tuition, or literally buying a small house in parts of America. But those don't come with rail systems.

Meanwhile, the person with the $400 LCP Max and 500 rounds is adequately armed and has $9500-99,500 for literally anything else.

Part 4: The Survival Food Corollary

The Pattern Extends Beyond Firearms

The Civilian Cosplay Complex isn't about guns. Guns are just one product category in a much larger system.

Consider emergency food storage.

The Complex Sells You:

"30-Day Emergency Food Supply Kit"

Freeze-dried meals in tactical bucket
"Just add water!"
25-year shelf life
Branded packaging
Cost: $2000-3000

What You Actually Need:

For 30 days, one person, approximately 2000 calories/day:

Rice (50 lbs): $25
Beans (25 lbs): $30
Oil (2 lbs): $6
Salt, seasonings: $10
Multivitamin: $10
Storage buckets: $45

Total: $126 for 30+ days

Rice and beans together provide complete protein, adequate calories, indefinite shelf life when stored properly, and have sustained human populations for millennia. You can cook with them regularly, rotating your stock.

You're paying roughly $2900 extra for:

Convenience (no cooking skill required)
Packaging (looks prepared, not poor)
Brand identity (recognized in prepper community)
Social acceptability (not "just rice and beans")

Why This Matters More

The survival food parallel reveals the pattern more clearly because the functional gap is undeniable.

With guns, someone might argue "maybe the Vector is marginally better?" It's debatable.

With food, there's no argument. Rice and beans objectively provide equivalent nutrition, store as long or longer, cost roughly 25× less, and work in every scenario where freeze-dried works. There is no functional advantage to justify the price premium.

The entire premium is identity and convenience.

The Community Response

Watch what happens in online communities:

Post about 500 lbs of rice and beans:

"That's basic. You need variety. What about nutrition? Morale food? You'll get sick of eating the same thing."

Post about six months of Mountain House:

"Nice setup. Well prepared. Solid foundation."

Same pattern as gun forums:

Post about LCP Max or Bodyguard:

"Bare minimum. Underpowered. Get a real gun."

Post about Vector setup:

"Nice choice. Good platform. Respectable."

The community validates consumption, stigmatizes adequacy. By design.

Why Adequacy Is Threatening

"Adequate" gets coded as poor, lazy, or unserious—because adequacy ends the buying cycle.

Show up to a forum saying "I bought a Glock 19 and 500 rounds and I'm done," and you'll get:

"That's just a start"
"Need backup gun"
"What about optic?"
"Training?"
"Different scenarios require different tools"

The response treats adequacy as naïveté rather than completion. Because if adequate is actually adequate, the ecosystem collapses. There's no upgrade path from "good enough." No content to create. No progression to showcase. No reason to stay engaged.

The social architecture of these communities requires that nothing is ever quite sufficient.

The Competence vs. Consumption Split

Rice and beans require skill, not products:

Cooking knowledge
Heat source management
Seasoning ability
Time and attention

Freeze-dried requires:

Boiling water
Opening package
Waiting 10 minutes

The Complex can't monetize competence as easily as products. Knowledge is free once acquired. Products require ongoing purchases.

This is why the Complex emphasizes equipment over skill across all domains:

Tactical gear over training
Expensive tools over practiced technique
Premium ammunition over dry-fire practice
Latest optic over fundamental marksmanship

Equipment can be sold. Skill development is harder to package and markup.

Part 5: The Psychological Infrastructure

Why Smart People Participate

The Civilian Cosplay Complex works because it serves real psychological needs:

Control/Agency: "I'm prepared for uncertainty" reduces anxiety. The gear is tangible proof of readiness.

Competence: "I have skills/knowledge/capability" provides self-worth in domains where many feel powerless.

Community: "I belong to group of capable people" satisfies tribal needs, provides identity, offers validation.

Mastery: "I'm pursuing excellence" gives purpose and progression.

These needs are legitimate. Humans require control, competence, community, and mastery. The Complex provides them—or at least the feeling of them.

The problem is the justification.

The Justification Shield

You can't say:

"I spent $5000 on tactical gear because it makes me feel less anxious about civilizational instability and gives me identity as a capable person in a community of similarly-minded people."

That's honest. That's legitimate. That's what's actually happening.

But you'll sound crazy or self-indulgent.

So instead you say:

"I'm being responsible and prepared for emergencies."

That's socially acceptable. That's what everyone else says. That's the justification the Complex provides.

The Complex is a social technology for translating "I want this for psychological reasons" into "I need this for practical reasons."

Once that translation happens, consumption becomes virtue. Spending becomes responsibility. Accumulation becomes preparedness.

The Community Reinforcement Loop

You're not crazy or wasteful if:

Everyone in your community does it
Experts recommend it
Influencers showcase it
Forums validate it

The Complex creates environments where:

Adequate = inadequate
Consumption = preparation
Premium = serious
Latest = necessary

And it's self-reinforcing:

Buy gear → Join community → Community validates → Community suggests upgrades → Buy more → Deeper integration → More validation → More consumption

The social reward structure ensures continued participation.

The Masculinity Dimension

The Civilian Cosplay Complex isn't just preparedness theater—it's also masculinity performance.

In American gun culture, firearms function as status markers for masculine identity. As sociologist Andrew McNeely describes from his Texas working-class upbringing, enthusiasm for guns signals acceptance of gendered hierarchy: men handle weapons, firearm competence equals masculine competence, rejecting guns equals rejecting manhood itself. When McNeely refused to admire his uncle's .223 rifle at a Thanksgiving gathering and walked to the kitchen instead, the audible gasp from the men captured their shock at his violation of gendered norms.

The tactical variant is more sophisticated than beer-and-pistols chaos, but serves similar function. Expensive gear signals serious masculine capability. The Vector owner and the uncle waving a rifle at Thanksgiving are performing the same identity through different class markers. Left gun culture performs it differently still—"community protector" instead of "family defender"—but the masculine performance remains.

This is why "adequate" threatens so deeply. An LCP Max or Bodyguard doesn't just signal "I'm not optimizing"—it signals "I'm not performing masculinity through firepower." The pocket .380 is emasculating in tactical culture terms, regardless of political affiliation.

The Complex profits from this. Masculine insecurity drives consumption. Fear of inadequacy—as man, protector, prepared citizen—drives upgrade cycles. The industry sells masculine identity validation as much as firearms.

Rejecting this—choosing adequacy, refusing consumption, carrying a pocket .380—isn't just opting out of gear culture. It's refusing to perform masculinity through firearms.

That's the deeper apostasy.

Part 6: The Military-Entertainment-Industrial Triangle

How The Complex Generates Demand

Hollywood/Gaming (Demand Generation):

Stargate SG-1 features P90 → 5.7×28mm sales spike

Resident Evil features Vector → Vector sales spike

Call of Duty features weapon → That weapon becomes popular

John Wick touches anything → Instantly "tactical"

Entertainment creates aspirational images of tactical competence—cool people doing cool things with cool gear.

Manufacturers (Supply Response):

See media exposure → Create civilian-legal versions → Remove military capability → Keep military aesthetic → Market as "tactical/defensive" → Price at premium

Springfield sees P90/Scorpion market success → Creates Kuna

FN has military 5.7 system → Sells civilian version without AP capability

KRISS has prototype → Becomes Hollywood favorite → Markets to civilians

Civilian Market (Consumption):

See cool gun in media → Want piece of that identity → Justify as "defensive" → Purchase at premium → Accessorize → Join community → Consume content → Eventually recognize impracticality → Trade at loss → See next cool gun → Repeat

The triangle is self-reinforcing:

Media shows gear → Civilians want gear → Manufacturers supply → More civilians buy → Media shows popular gear → Cycle intensifies

Each loop generates revenue at multiple points: manufacturing, accessories, ammunition, training, media, community.

The Content Economy

The Complex sustains itself through constant content generation:

YouTube/Social Media: Product reviews (affiliate commissions), setup showcases (brand deals), range footage (ammunition sales), training tips (course marketing), gear comparison (drives upgrades)

The algorithm favors:

New gear (more engaging than "still have same gun")
Expensive gear (better production values)
Tactical aesthetic (more dramatic than adequacy)
Consumption narratives (journey/progression)

Result: Endless stream of "you need this new thing" content, algorithmically amplified, community-validated, socially reinforced.

Part 7: The Salamander Heresy

What Refusal Looks Like

I carry a Ruger LCP Max. I got it for less than $300. It holds 10+1 rounds of .380 ACP. It's boring. It's adequate.

I don't have a Vector, a Scorpion, a Kuna, a Five-seveN, or even a Glock 19 with $800 worth of accessories. I traded an AR-9 down to a Bodyguard 2.0 because I wanted to help make .380 ACP a thing—which is perhaps the most absurd justification for a firearm decision I've ever articulated, but at least it's honest about being recreational choice rather than defensive necessity.

If I were storing emergency food (I'm not, but if I were), I'd have rice and beans and salt and oil. Not $3000 worth of freeze-dried meals in tactical buckets.

This is heresy to the Complex.

Why Adequacy Threatens The System

The pocket-.380 position violates every principle:

Equipment:

Boring (not exotic or innovative)
Cheap (not premium-priced)
Simple (not complex system)
Minimal (no accessories)
Unfashionable (not featured in media)

Philosophy:

Adequate not optimal
Simple not complex
Practical not theoretical
Reality-based not scenario-driven
Honest about purpose

Identity:

Non-tribal (not invested in gear choices)
Non-consuming (bought once, done)
Non-displaying (no social signaling)
Non-optimizing (good enough is enough)

This is apostasy because:

Doesn't generate ongoing revenue
Doesn't require community membership
Doesn't justify content creation
Doesn't enable identity performance
Can't be monetized effectively

The Actual Threat

If people recognize that:

Adequate works
Premium doesn't add meaningful function
Identity can be separated from consumption
Preparedness equals competence not products
Simple is often better than complex

The Complex collapses.

Billions in revenue depend on people NOT realizing that a $400 LCP Max plus 500 rounds equals adequate defensive capability, or that $120 in rice and beans equals adequate food storage.

The entire system requires that adequate equals inadequate, that good enough doesn't equal enough, that simple equals insufficient.

The pocket .380 is a demonstration that adequate is, by definition, sufficient.

The Cost Of Honesty

Rejecting the Complex has costs:

Social: No community recognition, no status signaling, no tribal belonging

Psychological: Less feeling of control, less sense of mastery pursuit, less identity clarity

Practical: Miss some genuinely good products, lose efficiency gains, forego recreational satisfaction

These costs are real. The Complex provides genuine benefits—just not the ones it claims.

The honesty is saying: "I gave up the community/identity/optimization game to have adequate capability at appropriate cost. The tradeoff was worth it for me. Your mileage may vary."

Part 8: The Choice

From Raccoon City To Your City

The Raccoon City Police Department needed Vectors because they were fighting zombies. Overwhelming firepower against undead hordes, full-auto recoil mitigation for sustained fire, tactical aesthetics for... reasons.

Your city has different problems. And they're almost certainly not solved by $2000 boutique firearms that can't do what they were designed for.

The Complex wants you to prepare for Raccoon City:

Zombies. Multiple armed intruders. Societal collapse. Red Dawn scenarios. The exciting dramatic threats that justify premium gear.

Your actual risks:

Financial instability. Job loss. Medical emergency. Natural disaster. Car accident. The boring statistical realities that adequate preparation addresses.

The mismatch:

Complex preparation: Vector + specialty ammo + freeze-dried meals + overland truck modifications

Reality preparation: Emergency fund + insurance + rice and beans + reliable transportation

Cost comparison:

Raccoon City prep: $20,000-50,000+

Reality prep: $5,000-10,000 (mostly emergency fund)

Effectiveness comparison:

Raccoon City gear addresses approximately 0% of actual life risks.

Reality prep addresses approximately 80% of actual life risks.

The Actual Decision

You're not choosing between preparedness and unpreparedness.

You're choosing between:

Cosplay Preparedness:

Expensive tactical gear
Premium products
Community identity
Recreational satisfaction
Psychological comfort
Justified as necessity

Boring Preparedness:

Adequate tools
Basic supplies
Real skills
Emergency funds
Insurance
Actual effectiveness

Both cost money. Both take time. Both provide psychological benefits.

The difference:

One is honest about being a recreational hobby that makes you feel prepared.

One is actually effective at addressing realistic risks.

Choose accordingly.

What I Actually Carry

I have a Ruger LCP Max in my pocket. Ten rounds plus one of .380 ACP. Boring adequate capability for the statistical reality that I'll almost certainly never need it.

I don't have a Vector. Or a Scorpion. Or a Kuna. Or expensive freeze-dried food. Or a $500 tactical knife. Or a $40K overland truck.

Not because I'm virtuous or enlightened.

Because I recognized I was driving a HMMWV to the grocery store, and the pocket .380 gets me there just fine.

The Complex is still there. Still selling. Still working. Still generating billions. Operating across the political spectrum—conservative prepper culture, progressive mutual aid culture, apolitical tactical optimization culture. Different aesthetics, same consumption patterns, same identity performance, same stigmatizing of adequacy.

I stepped away from the left-gun-culture variant after recognizing the pattern. Others extract themselves from conservative versions, or simply never enter any variant to begin with.

From Raccoon City to your city, the choice is yours:

Tactical identity without tactical mission, or adequate capability without cosplay.

Most people choose identity. I chose adequacy.

Both are legitimate choices.

Just be honest about which one you're making.

A Final Note

I write this from a position of relative comfort. I haven't treated gunshot victims in an emergency room. I haven't picked up pieces after a mass shooting. I haven't "seen the needle and the damage done" in the way that trauma surgeons have.

If I had, my opinions would be stronger, harder, less willing to acknowledge that "both choices are legitimate." The physician invoking children in passionate speeches about gun violence has seen damage I haven't. That experience justifies strong opinions. This essay isn't dismissing that—it's questioning whether strong opinions about rare dramatic events should drive policy over boring effective interventions for common harms.

But the distance matters. I can be a "snarky heretic" about tactical consumption theater because I'm critiquing consumer behavior, not trauma response. Those are different conversations, and conflating them serves neither.

The Complex profits from both the fear generated by rare dramatic violence and the identity needs of people who've never experienced it. That's the machinery worth examining.

The rest is noise.