Staring at the login bonus screen realizing I have not engaged with any "gameplay" from this game for two weeks and have to admit to myself that I'm out. I was in the hospital. I have been sick. I have had no brain. I have been, in retrospect, in the perfect situation to get the most out of this game. It doesn't ask much of me, and I don't have much to give at the moment. A match made in heaven! But my behavior has shown that even when at my lowest, I would rather do literally anything else, and oftentimes nothing, than ever "play" this game again.

For additional context, I am at a hurdle in Chapter 10 that would require level grinding. Except, this game is getting discontinued, so I am awash with resources. "Level grinding" would take literally 2 minutes of me going into a menu and making some numbers go up while some consumables go down. I could make like 5 mistakes investing in the wrong stuff and it wouldn't matter. I could probably max out one dude and solo the story mode of this game. I could probably take 10 minutes to read how the combat system of this game actually works and trivialize it.

But thinking about doing any of that makes me seriously consider with recent experience if I would rather have an IV reinserted in my arm than ever touch this game again. Which is probably the clue I need that it's time to write this out of my system and move the fuck on with life.

I can't help but think of my review of DLC for the original NieR and how language gives substance to vapor in the realm of ideas. Here, NieR Re[in]carnation is NieR: The World of Recycled Vessel, but blown out in every dimension, wrapped around itself, an ouroborus eating the tail of its future child. It is such a profound perversion of gaming as an entity that I sound hyperbolic to accurately describe how incredibly awful it is. Because when a game concept gets a couple things right, there’s a handhold from which the pain of its existence feels novel, fixable. But when something is truly flawed at its core, in every structure of its being, is evil in its conception, execution, and existence, it becomes dreadfully dull.

I've played a couple mobile games now, and apart from some of the Netflix offerings, they've all been evil. But the ways they've been evil have been... mixed? Like they have a touch of humanity in them that got corrupted somehow. Like there could be a version of them that was capable of loving me. But NieR Re[in]carnation hates me in a multipronged attack that is simultaneously so inert I almost didn't recognize it as violence. I wish I had written about all of its follies and injustices when they were fresh, instead of writing about them now, after I've let them wash over me, let myself marinate, let hope turn my anger into indifference. It perfectly matches the pattern of an abuse victim becoming complacent as they learn to be helpless.

NieR Re[in]carnation game has a 3D world. You can walk around in it. It doesn't matter. It's a hallway. Like literally is only a hallway. No gameplay happens there. It has an "auto" button that has your character walk down the hallway by themself. Do you know for how many hours I resisted pressing that button? That I wanted to have some gameplay in my game? I clung so desperately to the hope that there would be a maze, something, anything to justify the existence of this fully realized HD world of hallways and my ability to control my movement in it. But no. Trying to play the game was only a waste of time. Not pressing the auto button was a waste of time.

So, wherefore art thou hallways?

When I wrote about Cats & Soup, I was jolted when I realized that the game world was not the cats, but the menus overlaid on the cats. That the cats were a pretense and the game was the menu. I could buy that the world of the hallways was the pretense of NieR Re[in]carnation, and in a way they are, but then where is the gameplay?

In truth, NieR Re[in]carnation is layers of pretense that never gets to anything.

I have to marvel at the ingeniousness of the triviality. At the same time, this is not the work of a human being. This is the inhuman efficiency of attention hacking only possible by multiple passes within an organization that has memetically learned from other organizations.

Let’s start at the surface. There are hallways. The hallways are a pretense to getting to “levels”. These “levels” have stories in them with light interactivity, very simple visual novel elements. The stories in the levels largely have nothing to do with the world in the hallways. Maybe they converge later than when I stopped playing, but I’m hours in and my god can I not care if I’m wrong. But all of these stories can be skipped, because there is combat. So all the storytelling is set dressing to the combat, itself a pretense.

I have to interject here that the stories are bad. They are vague, simple sketches, nothing more than premises and flavors. But separate from their vapidness, they are bad stories. They are mean, they are droll, they are dour, full of cruelty and irony and melancholy. There is no love. Relationships exist only to exert pain on others. It will say “these people loved each other” only so it can relish in someone’s death and maiming, in the survivor’s suffering and guilt. They are uniformly dreadful in tone, only broken up by the spice of convoluted incomprehensibility when sci-fi and magical elements are introduced. I could spend paragraphs tearing apart each and every one if I was live blogging my experience with them, but thankfully they have been culled from my memory banks. Imagining anyone sees these stories as “rewards”, or worse yet, “incentives”, to engage with this game - I can’t even imagine watching these on youtube without finding the autoplay ads more interesting.

Then we get to the combat, and realize how much the storytelling doesn’t matter, because whatever you fight is abstracted into black blob monsters that have no physical presence or reality to the story of the level. So you might think, ok, this is it. Everything else was a pretense for this combat system - until you see that this game is an autobattler. Combat can happen entirely without your input. In fact, you often get rewards for pressing an attack button ONCE during a battle. Because the game needs artificial incentivisation for you to engage with the only game-like gameplay the game has to offer. Even as it also has a fast forward button, and an auto-battle button. And if you get far enough into the game, you get things called “Skip Tickets”, that let you repeat a battle for experience points / rewards for leveling up your dudes without having to actually experience the battle again at all.

Early on in the game, when I was still in tutorial land, and hadn’t even gotten to the gacha system yet, the tutorial character said “Don’t worry, this game plays just like most others.” I at first thought that phrase was hilariously useless to me, trying out one of these gacha games for the first time - it told me jack shit! But the more I learned about this game, the more that phrase has just borrowed deeper and deeper into the pit of my gut, blossoming into a kind of disgust that would melt any business executive that came into contact with it.

Because the combat system itself is a pretense for - the gacha system. Spin a roulette wheel and get weapons and characters to use in combat. Some are shiny and have big numbers that make combat easier.

Now, I tried this game after the premium store was closed, because the game’s end is imminent. So I have no idea what the monetary value of any of this bullshit would be. Nobody tell me or I might become a terrorist. But. I just have to say.

The gacha pull animation is … kinda lame?

Abstract boxes turn into coffins that slam down and turn into .jpg’s of Ebon Spears and Emerald Bracers and everything about the colors and the environment and the music is just so… without gravitas, without playfulness, without anything that I can imagine incentivizing another pull. I have enough premium currency for like, 10 or more gacha pulls, and separate from the decision paralysis of there being a million events going on the for the game’s end, after my free daily pulls, it’s been such a boring experience that I’ve actively ex’d out of the summoning menu and often logged off of the game because its so dull. I cannot believe this is where the money is supposed to be made.

And that’s when I realized the gacha system itself is only a front for where the true addiction is supposed to lie - the character upgrade menus. You upgrade characters. You upgrade weapons. You upgrade skills. You upgrade teddybears. (That is not a joke.) You upgrade instances of characters. All that take varying amounts of money, experience, currencies, resources, and most importantly, time.

I thought I’d be mad that the gacha system has ridiculously low percentages for getting the good shit. I thought I’d be mad that getting a cool character is only the beginning - that you need to get their low drop rate multiple times to fully upgrade them. And like, yeah, that’s pretty evil, even without considering the compounding evil of charging real world money every time. I don’t want to underserve that. It is morally indefensible. Maybe I’m only less worked up because I have no idea how much any of it used to cost. But I can relate to the time. The insane amount of time that is required to fiddle with all these numbers to get past combat encounters to clear story episodes to walk down more hallways. All journey, no destination, but you’re not traveling with friends, and you’re not going to make any. This is a journey that can only be completed with misplaced investment into a beautifully drawn delusion.

I feel so incredibly dead inside thinking about how there are people who like this game. I read about this game’s existence and thought, “oh neat, I’ll get to play a gacha game without all the gacha elements hanging over the experience, and in the NieR series that I’ve been playing through!” And it had fans, and they loved it, and expressed so much concern for this game’s preservation. How there was so much art, so much story that needed to be preserved for the future. And a part of me really wanted to experience something magical about a shared experience with a piece of art that will never be possible again.

But after trying, sincerely trying, I’m just scared. Because this game fucking hates me. It hates you. It hates everyone. I can’t even tell how personally it hates people, because I don’t know how much it can even conceive of humans as people. It hates me for wanting to find an experience worth having within it, even as its loading screen begs me to appreciate the vistas of its hallways and listen to its soundtrack with headphones. Why does it do that? Why is it so desperate for me to think of it as art?

Because it is not. It just fucking isn’t. Artists worked on this, but this is not art. This is not even video game as product. This is not even video game mechanic as health insurance website design. This is a concentrated psychological attack. It has many beautiful elements to it wrapped up in an IP that begs you to think about the interestingness of its ideas more than its content, begging you to find value in what it has to offer as well. All a trick, a ruse, to get you nice and inoculated to being dead inside to get stuck in its number go up factory work.

I can see the thread for how investment happens. The visuals for walking through the hallways are interesting enough you want to keep going. The stories are delivered piece meal, so you might as well see what the next section looks like. The combat doesn’t require much mental effort, so you might as well grind for a bit. Any individual element sucks, like really sucks, but not in a way that hurts, that causes pain. So if you’re used to getting something out of one of the forms of engagement being teased here, you press on. And then you’ve made a habit, and then you’ve learned some of how the loop works, and then you get curious what kinds of side quests you could do, because you want some control over this experience again. And choosing to do a side quest over a main quest is really the most purposeful engagement you could hope to get out of this app. And then there are enough resources and numbers to manage with art that’s just pretty enough to look at that it keeps on happening.

I hated Cats & Soup and thought it was evil, but I could get it. I could have sympathy for the societal forces that could make one want to give that game some time. But this one? Naw. Playing this game, loving this game, you have been hacked. I want to give you hugs and milk and cookies and a 3DS and / or PS Vita so you know there are good things in life.

If anyone defends this game because it has Lore™ pertaining to the DrakeNieR universe I am going to implode.

Oh hey, I started out actually really liking this! And then it kept going.

Video game narratives exist in a weird realm where sometimes the writing doesn’t need a plot so much as a pretense. What would pass as thread-bare justification in passive mediums can exist as crucial context for hours of a game experience. Because invariably, whatever time spent in the plot is dwarfed by whatever buffoonery the player will engage in.

The previous Drakengard and NieR games have bounced off of me because their balance between pretense, plot, and presentation have been all over the place. They’ve been full of fun and crazy ideas interspersed with experiences that are bafflingly terrible. I’ve never known what I should be taking seriously and what I should be rolling with, what’s intentional and what’s coincidence.

So imagine my surprise when Drakengard 3 opens with the dumbest, most irreverent set-up yet almost immediately won me over. Our main character, Zero, is a goddess, on a mission with her pet dragon to kill all the other goddesses. Not for any noble reason. She’s just greedy. She wants to be the only goddess in the world. And so she’s gonna murder a million dudes until she gets what she wants.

There is something so refreshing about a concept so stupid that immediately elevates the stupidity of the anime cliches of all the one-dimensional supporting cast. We know how this game will flow from the word go - we’ll kill a bunch of goons and then have a boss fight and kill one of the sisters and then on to the next world. How can it matter how well written those characters are? What better way to make use of their screen time than to lean into their irrelevance to give the voice actors a chance to chew the scenery for a couple minutes and earn their paycheck?

If the whole game had just been Zero as a sexy anime lady version of Wario, I was ready to love this game.

Unfortunately, Drakengard 3 couldn’t leave well enough alone and started getting wrapped up in its own lore, quickly losing its core appeal and turning into everything I hated about NieR.

Where NieR started serious and then got absurd, Drakengard 3 started as farce and then tried to turn into drama. This Yoko Taro Team must be obsessed with the idea of the Grand Recontextualization™ - of having a twist so epic that it makes you think about the whole game differently and proves how smart and cool they are for being so clever.

I really think they should stop.

Because I thought they had finally learned that having a serious story was getting in the way of their strengths. They’re not good storytellers! They are pranksters and comedians!

In my notes from my first session with the game, I used the character Dito as a great example of why these characters haven't been working for me in previous games. Take Kaine from NieR: she’s supposed to be hiding markings on her body, but her outfit is a battle bakini with lace that does not conceal her ass crack. So every part of her body that she wants to hide she covers in bandages. It’s so stupid when she could just - wear long sleeved clothes like a normal person! It’d be one thing if her character was comedic, but everything about her backstory and functioning in the plot of that game is played straight and tragic. But the game and characters also can’t help but make pot-shots at how stupid her choice of clothing is.

Back to Dito. He’s a disciple of a sexy lady whose personality is that she has big boobs and loves sex. But the game goes the extra length to take that character dynamic to its conclusion - he’s her unwilling sex slave. Not implied, directly stated. He eventually kills her for it.

He should be traumatized. But he immediately turns around to be an inert sex pest against Zero. But then later its stated that he and Zero have definitely fucked. Once things are taken to their conclusion, they’re inverted again, because the whole point of everything is the joke. We’re working entirely in pretenses. He’s as dramatic or stupid as the moment needs him to be, and that never changes over the course of the game. But the characters believe it’s all real, keep marrying the joke, and thus it all works.

And everything in Drakengard 3 is like this. Of course Zero wouldn’t wear clothes to get warm in the snow level because ~ aesthetic ~. Of course the in-universe reason for why she doesn’t ride her dragon all the time and we don’t dragon blast everything is because she thinks the dragon smells bad - a reason that is funny regardless of whether it is 100% fixable or not.

What elevated the presentation to me was Drakengard 3’s intentional use of video game menus and structures to elevate this feeling of farce. Levels end in really anti-ciimactic ways. Horrible cutscenes with multiple characters dying get interrupted with the least satisfying Mission Complete screen. It’s hilarious! I laughed out loud when Zero and team get drowned in a snow drift, and the title of the game appears as if the credits will start playing. Then Zero punches her way out of the snow and back on screen. Her goal is stupid, her game is stupid, but they exist to play off each other and be fun.

I felt like this dude had finally hit his stride in realizing that having a serious story was getting in the way. If your interest is in anime bullshit, and you’re not dumb enough to give it to me unironically, then at least don’t ruin the fun by accidentally doing the serious parts of the story well. Drakengard 1? Too edgy without messaging, bite, humor, or point. Nier? Too good at getting me to buy in to its characters to enjoy the twists of what the developer thought was more fun and interesting, when I thought their interests were dumb and bad. Drakengard 3? No content, only filler, A+ love it.

And that’s where I WOULD have liked to end the review if there wasn’t MORE OF THAT SAME STUPID LORE DISEASE.

I thought as a prequel to everything else, Drakengard 3 would be safe - but no. There is a prequel novel. There is a prequel manga series. Hours of context not in the game that attempts to humanize or justify these charcoal sketches of anime tropes. To explain why there’s time travel and robots and magic and angels and dragons.

And without any of that, the second half of the game stops being fun! It goes full drama in ways that could only possibly be cathartic if I was invested in all that auxillary material that was never officially translated!

So, so, so disappointed, and that’s before getting to the ending.

I’m glad I found a video explaining to me how this final boss was supposed to be mean, separate from a character action game ending with an 8 minute rhythm mini game. Because knowing when something is fair makes a huge difference in my mental stamina for trying to win. This was not a duel, but a battle of spite. Of a devloper who turned the joke from the game taking itself seriously to the joke being that *I* was taking the game seriously enough to get all the weapons to see the final ending.

Like, what is the point of that.

I wrote in my review of Drakengard that some ideas lack nuance. That was in the context of subject matter, and how some forms of evil do not have enough depth to be mined for meaning. Here, I have to acknowledge that video games present a unique opportunity for creators to spite their audience. And I think with enough intentional malice, that same lack of potential nuance emerges.

I beat it. I hated it. It took hours. I screamed so loud when I won I made my roommate slip in the shower. I was shaking during the final credits. And the overwhelming emotion I felt was release, while my mind contined to chant “i hate this i hate this i hate this i hate this i hate this i hate this…”

But did I realize anything profound for having done so? No. My respect for this team went down again. But I have a theory as to why this series and this game and this ending can resonate with people.

Because games are such collaborative projects that it is really, really hard to feel like a human made them. To feel like you are in conversation with a creator who had anything to say. To make games functional to play requires meticulous sanding, and binding their myriad systems together results in many unintentional experiences. Think of how the menu layout of Ocarina of Time turned the water temple from a simple puzzle concept to an infamous example of tedium for the medium, because it took too many clicks to put on a pair of boots.

So when an experience like this can solidify behind a unified front, laser targeted at the player, and the message is a giant “Fuck You,” some people are going to be happy to be spoken to. The novelty of being reached out to is so highly valued that it eclipses the insult.

I cannot respect that. Good video games are in conversation with the player all the time. But good game design that isn’t abrasive is invisible. Because the possibilities of what an author can add to an experience by drawing attention to themselves are not many. You can make jokes, you can make metatextual commentary, or, as is the case here, stick your finger in the eye of your audience.

Well. I don’t think that’s very cool, and while I don’t know if its intentional or not, I think this guy is a hack.

I am growing concerned as to why people praised NieR: Automata so much since that is next on the docket, but maybe it was the rare case where someone grew the hell up.

3 stars, B rank, wish it had stayed as good as it started.

It's impossible to predict what games give you comfort in what ways. I thought I almost died this week, and on the other side of that, I can't help but think of my time with Bravely Default.

I devoured this game at a time where it felt like my life was ending. My 3DS activity log showed that I played it in chunks averaging 8+ hours a session. To say that I thoroughly replaced reality with this game is an understatement.

I needed to find meaning and beauty in the world, and in Bravely Default, I found enough to tide me over. The repetitive nature of filling out the bestiary, maxing out every job class, even the repetitive nature of the game itself. When it reused bosses, I didn't blink an eye. I dutifully went through the long way of beating this game without a single critical thought, of any of the ways that I could have cleverly ended the game sooner. I needed that structure. I needed to not think about the freeform mess of reality around it.

When you need to find beauty in something, you do. I think Bravely Default still has one of the best soundtracks of all time. When I first heard the theme of the Land of Radiant Flowers, I almost cried. Obviously I was in a vulnerable state of mind, and now I don't think its one of the strongest tracks in the game. But I think about that experience a lot.

There were jokes I laughed at in this game that are objectively lame. I took screenshots on MiiVerse to save for posterity (lol) that I failed to remember the significance of within a month.

But that has to speak to something in the strengths of this game that I could use it as the refuge I needed it to be.

I remember very little about what it was like to play this game, because for a long time I needed to forget everything about that period of my life. Including this game. But like the experience I was trying to avoid, Bravely Default became a part of me. I still say "grgrgrgr" in real life the way Edea does. I have had Victory's Chime as my default ringtone for over a decade at this point and forget where it came from.

I'd like to think that was a form of healing. That I used that vulnerability to slot in the potential for something beautiful when I was at a low point full of pain. Maybe Bravely Default was a vapid thing to latch onto, but it was harmless. And at that time, as evaluated by my future current self, it was exactly what I needed. Or, now it has to be what I needed. Because I still got so much beauty out of it.

On its own merits, Bravely Default is an S-tier soundtrack on a mediocre game. Solidly B-rank, hard to recommend playing much more than recommending listening to the soundtrack.

But maybe the real lesson I needed to learn, or the lesson I taught myself through Bravely Default, was finding how to love something imperfect when it felt like the world would not love an imperfect me.