If you were to pitch a concept for one of the biggest TV phenomenons of the 21st century, an X-rated Lord Of The Rings may not immediately spring to mind. Such was the buzz surrounding HBO’s fantasy series Game Of Thrones when it premiered back in 2011. In the time since, the adaptation of George RR Martin’s cult series of novels by David Benioff and DB Weiss – the latter a former Trinity College student who did his thesis on Joyce – has become a cultural sensation, with an intensely devoted global fanbase.

The teasers for the recently commenced seventh season had racked up over 50 million YouTube hits within a short time of their arrival, with possible plot points and thematic hints subjected to the sort of analysis normally reserved for US Presidential elections. There are myriad reasons for Games Of Thrones’ success, but this most zeitgeisty of shows has at its core some endearingly old-fashioned values; the battle for control of Westeros is played out by complex, Shakespearean characters, wrestling with powerful emotional conflicts in dynamic storylines.

Of course, Martin – and by extension Benioff, Weiss and the other writers – are not averse to taking a more direct route to goal, and Game Of Thrones happily embraces some base narrative pleasures. The quotient of sex and violence is never less than generous, with the show an endless source of fascination with media commentators everywhere from the Sun to the Guardian – if often for contrasting reasons.

So why the hell are we all so obsessed with Game Of Thrones? Certainly, it’s success was far from a given. HBO launched the series to considerable fanfare in 2011, with the network still waiting for another monster hit to replace The Sopranos, by that stage off the air for four years (Benioff has described the series as “The Sopranos in Middle Earth”).

Its beginnings weren’t especially auspicious; the early references to a looming apocalypse in Westeros (“winter is coming”) soon gave way to an often bewildering array of plotlines and characters. On a personal level, I purchased a DVD of the show in 2012, watched a few episodes, thought it was decent if unremarkable – and promptly forgot about it.

However, perhaps more than any other show, Game Of Thrones is a major beneficiary of the DVR era. By Christmas 2014, I had several series recorded and decided to give it another whirl. I quickly became hooked, mainlining the programme over a couple of weeks of intense binge-viewing. At its core is the battle for the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms, with the Lannister and Stark dynasties among those jockeying for position in a landscape thick with Machiavellian scheming.

For those of us with an interest in politics, Game Of Thrones is an especially pleasing experience. To watch the likes of Tyrion Lannister (Peter Dinklage) or Littlefinger (Aidan Gillen) plot their moves on the giant Westeros chessboard is akin to watching a behind the scenes documentary on the Dail (for a brief moment in early 2015, Gillen starred in GOT whilst simultaneously portraying Charlie Haughey in an RTE series; at times it was difficult to tell the shows apart).

But while Martin’s masterwork – which draws on historical sagas such as the War Of The Roses for inspiration – may seem like perfect territory for a supremely male show, it has a thrillingly subversive streak. As brilliant as the men are, the female characters are even better. This is a notable upending of not just television tradition, but also US drama’s golden period, which has been all about the nuclear age anxiety of difficult men, from Tony Soprano and Don Draper to Walter White and Jimmy McNulty.

Game Of Thrones’ standard bearer in this regard is Daenerys Targaryen, the Queen of Dragons, a leader in exile who rounds up the army of the Unsullied to launch her assault on the Iron Throne. Brilliantly played by Emilia Clarke, Daenerys is one of the most radical leading characters to ever appear in a smash hit TV show.

Aside from the refreshing symbolism of a woman leading her followers into political and military battle, the portrayal of her sexuality breaks even further ground. In one memorable scene, a male suitor strips for her delectation; not only does Daenerys tolerate it, she sits with a glass of wine and actively savours it, thus brilliantly inverting every casting couch cliché we’ve ever seen in TV and film.

Sex, undoubtedly, is key to Game Of Thrones’ appeal. Over the course of six seasons, it has explored a virtual Kama Sutra of sexual possibilities. Aside from the vanilla content, there have been threesomes, orgies, steamy affairs, gay encounters – and that’s just for starters. One of the show’s most debated elements is the incestuous relationship between royal offspring Cersei and Jaime Lannister (Lena Headey and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), with Cersei’s notorious “Walk of Shame” – punishment for her debauchery, inflicted by a bunch of fundamentalist religious zealots – inspiring a level of analysis more commonly associated with academic scholarship.

As early as season one, the series’ erotic content gave, er, rise to a phrase – “sexposition” – to describe Littlefinger, in his role as medieval pimp, explaining plot points while prostitutes serviced customers in the background.

As for the violence, suffice to say that Game Of Thrones doesn’t stinge on genre requirements. The most sadistic character has been Ramsay Bolton (played with Lecter-esque malevolence by Iwan Rheon), the bastard-in-all-senses son of Lord Roose Bolton, whose prolonged torture of Theon Greyjoy is memorably – if shockingly – macabre.

The storyline’s baroque quality is in keeping with the show’s general atmosphere of brooding goth menace. Even a whistlestop tour of highlights throws up several unforgettably chilling moments: the massacre at the Wed Redding; the burning of the child Princess Shireen at the stake (the most disturbing moment of a brutally nihilistic fifth season); and the death of the traumatised Hodor (Northern Irish actor Kristian Nairn), stuck playing out his role as Bran Stark’s tragic martyr for eternity.

From an Irish perspective, it has been pleasing to see so many Irish actors contribute to its success, including the aforementioned Gillen, as well as Liam Cunningham, Jack Gleason and Michael McElhatton, amongst numerous others. Indeed, Dublin has become a kind of surrogate LA in recent years, with many of the cast members regularly spotted around town.

And Northern Ireland, of course, has done a bang-up job – in addition to countries like Croatia, Spain and Iceland – of portraying the sweeping Westeros landscape. It has also enjoyed the attendant tourism boost, with even Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails enjoying the Bord Failte-style activities, including sitting on the Iron Throne in Belfast’s Titanic Studios.

Indeed, the show’s rock and roll credentials are second to none. Sigur Ros and Mastodon’s Brent Hinds – who is due make another appearance this season – are among those to have guested, with the likes of The National, the Hold Steady and Snow Patrol all contributing versions of Westeros songs as well.

So what does season seven have in store after that explosive opening? Well, promisingly, it looks like there is going to be a particular focus on the female characters, including the aforementioned Daenerys and the sisterly duo of Sansa and Arya Stark.

The former is now intent on rising to power, having finally dispatched of her tormentor Ramsay in a manner that probably wouldn’t pass muster under the Geneva Convention (getting his dogs to chew his face off). The latter, meanwhile, is now also angling for greater things, on the back of executing her father’s killer Walder Frey, again in less-than-humane fashion (serving his dead sons to him in a pie before slashing his throat).

As for the cameos, aside from the aforementioned Hinds, the rock connection is further maintained thanks to an appearance from Ed Sheeran, with Bastille also rumoured to have filmed a scene (though Conor McGregor has unfortunately dismissed rumours that he’s going to appear). This season – which has now well overlapped Martin’s novels – will feature only seven episodes, though with lengthier running times; the longest clocks in at a suitably epic 80 minutes.

Weiss and Benioff, for their part, have made the smart decision to bow out at the top, with Game Of Thrones set to conclude after its eighth season, scheduled to air sometime over the next couple of years. HBO, however, recognise a cash cow when they see one, and are currently developing no less than five possible spin-off shows, with Martin overseeing each (Weiss and Benioff have said their involvement with the franchise will conclude at the end of season eight).

Looking ahead to Game Of Thrones’ ultimate conclusion, the demonic White Walkers – led by the foreboding Night’s King – most definitely have an appetite for destruction, possibly apocalyptic in scope. My favourite theory posits that the “Song of Fire & Ice” addendum to Martin’s original title means a final showdown between the White Walkers and Daenerys’ dragons is in the offing.

Whatever happens, to invoke Westeros’ native currency, we’ll most definitely get our Gold Dragon’s worth. Enjoy!