WORLD INFORMATIONS: On the Journey to Ending E Long-ass, tinfoilish stuff ahead. Also, contains references to the first Nier game, so spoilers for that, too. ~ — — — ~ Nier: Automata's Ending E has pretty much been seen and regarded pretty much as one of the best grand finales in video gaming of its generation. This ending broke out of the confines of fiction to really serve as a culmination of the game's mechanics and storytelling going together in symphony, as well as the culmination of the themes of the game and our actions as players, resulting in something that is a breath of fresh air for the franchise. Ending E symbolized and illustrated that humanity can rise up and join hands together in the face of adversity. It truly showed that we have to step up and definitely work hard and show determination for it, give it all, ignore the "haters," and be really positive—in order to attain something more worthwhile and meaningful, to overcome and emerge from what is bleak and hopeless, to make a difference, and, of course, to save and show our love for the main characters 2B, 9S, and A2 that we cared for so much for so long throughout the entire story. To the point where we, the players ourselves, have to change the course of the plot by fighting the creators of very game we were playing. And in that seemingly insurmountable struggle against all odds, we are never alone in the fight, that there are those with the same goals in mind who care for us. While the concept of entities coming out to others in need in changing a seemingly hopeless outcome into something better and positive isn't exactly new or is even clichéd, this time, however, it goes on another, more profound level where that becomes more personal with those "entities" taking in the form of actual players who have completed the game, making such actions much more heartfelt. That also somewhat drives home the point of the collectivist community spirit in Japanese culture (see here, on how that mentality goes into many video games from said country), as well as, to an extent, bayanihan from traditional Philippine culture. And then, in the end, to truly complete and earn the ending we choose to give back and express gratitude and thanks to the fellow players that guided us, helped us, and empowered us, that led us to completing our journey we took—by sacrificing our own save data, our entire hard-earned progress we have made in the entire game. So we can help others in this same journey in the process, whoever they are and whatever walk of life they are from. So that they are not alone in the struggle, that they always have someone and something by their side for support and inspiration. So that we become one with (and sustain) this whole movement, with one common goal in mind of being to bring change and hope and to overcome challenges if we stand together, stand strong, and believe in ourselves. All in all that makes N:A's Ending E, from departure to the journey to the destination, one of the best video gaming experiences of all time. But what if...? What could possibly go wrong with all of this? ~ — — — ~ This game is just part of a franchise that throughout its entries tackled and exposed, and slapped us in the face, the taken-for-granted mentalities we players have long held in playing video games in general, throughout various genres and generations: the general apathy we players—through the characters we control and interact with—have towards the ingame "enemies" we take for granted to fight, and the mindsets of "they" being the mindless monsters that we are supposed to kill as pre-programmed and of the "it's just a game, no one gets hurt for real there so don't be so onion skinned and get over it hurr durr" attitude (regardless of one's own views on video game violence and real-life behavior... which, of course, that oft-repeated debate needs to be distinctively separated from what I've said in this paragraph). Now back to the topic at hand, in order to earn Ending E, we go through an intense bullet hell sequence taking in the form of the closing credits where we shoot down all the names, collectively the real final boss of the game, as they appear: from the director Yoko Taro, to the entire cast, to the development teams at PlatinumGames and other companies contracted for the project, up to the various branches and departments of publisher Square Enix, and so on. Sure, they're all just merely lines of text that are clearly hostile and attack with copious loads of projectiles; no big deal, right? But, well... as aforementioned, looking back at all the times we have realized and learned to be empathetic and sympathetic towards the all the "enemies" we were supposed to dehumanize, kill, and defeat in the game, slapped in the face with their sentience and the truth about their humble motives and backstories all in full view, and faced the consequences of what we have done along the way—Eve's furious revenge, the forest machines knocking on the 4th wall and blaming "humans" in Route C (granted that they're under the influence of the nearby resource recovery unit), slaying friendlies to earn joke endings, and the vindictiveness of the golden machines (short of outright calling 2B and 9S and thus the player "fucking murderers" upon defeat at the Flooded City)... ...there we are, basically going on a virtual mass killing spree against real and living people and businesses (or at least, the representations of), this time with absolutely no remorse, no empathy, and no guilt, just so we could change the game's tragic ending to a happier one. Now that's the problem. Not everyone, if any, is going to realize this irony of how we have dehumanized the game's makers without thought in stark contrast to the humanization of the fictitious machine lifeforms and androids (and organic creatures) we have slaughtered beforehand. With that realization in mind, it changes the context of the uplifting climax of the ending's version of the closing song "Weight of the World" where the game's staff begin to sing along, adding a layer of surreal irony, as it marks the start of finishing off the remaining names that represent said staff by fellow players finally banding together to overcome the sequence. Just as we would feel bad for the "loss" of other players' save data being called up in the Ending E effort, we don't feel the same emotional and moral gravity about who we were fighting against in Ending E and think of something like, "wait, did I just casually murdered Yoko Taro and my favorite voice actors? Are we going postal at the 'offices' of Square Enix?" How much more about the CEO boss fights in the game's DLC, enough said? Perhaps what Yoko Taro meant with "I wanted them to realize that the person they're directing hatred towards is also, just like themselves, a gamer" was a dual-edged sword the whole time: it wasn't just directed to all of us worldwide who are playing the game, it also referred to the game's developers and publishers whom we kill wholesale in the sequence. I don't really think this realization makes the design of Ending E's credits sequence result in a tonal or ludonarrative dissonance in relation to the game's (and franchise's) core themes, but rather I believe it would've driven home a sinister underlying message: that Ending E is designed to show (and expose) how we players will go to great lengths to find, fight for, and earn that good, happy ending we feel so entitled to have one. No matter what the human cost. To "definitively" finish the game. To earn those achievements/trophies clean. To satisfy all those attachments to the game's characters. The chance to feel a sense of meaningful accomplishment in such a bleak world. The mean to an end. ...All by going on what is practically a blatant revenge fantasy to self-righteously blame, vent anger on, and commit an act of aggression against Yoko Taro and all the people behind the game for what had transpired there ("they forced the hands of us and our waifus/cinnamon rolls into sad situations so killing them was totally justified, right!?"), who were either merely demonstrating and making a point to us about the human condition, existentialism, and the aforementioned gaming mentalities, or who didn't actually do seriously wrong, if anything in the first place, just like the N:A Devola and Popola. And with that said, Ending E is also subtly designed to bring to a whole new level, and draw a meta connection to, the premise of the first Nier: how the titular main character is willing to cross many, many lines in his quest to save his Yonah, with, of course, [disregarding] all the consequences it entailed (and eventually come to realize how woefully, pointlessly pyrrhic and meaningless it all was). In fact, it might also be a culmination of all the sheer madness of what Zero, Caim, Nier, and company did in their respective games; the bitter tragedy that defined this whole franchise thousands of years in the making within its lore, and it reaches the point the torch is now being passed here in N:A. Which eventually leads to the notion that, this time in N:A through Ending E, the real, genuine madman of the story is neither 2B, nor A2, nor 9S, nor the respective beings behind Project YoRHa and the machine lifeform network, nor Pod 042 (to an extent), nor even Yoko Taro himself... but ultimately us, the players ourselves. The true monster all along, with all the blood and gore on our hands, so to speak, much bigger and more gruesome than the ones we're supposed to stop and view as such. The journey in Ending E seemed all too reminescent of and similar to the film Apocalypse Now, in Capt. Benjamin Willard's quest to hunt down Col. Walter Kurtz. In our journey and desire to fulfill 2B's wish of confronting, fighting, and ultimately killing the "gods" of the game, little do we realize that the joke was on us in the very end: that we, in turn, have become as gods. Now that's a scary thought.ｔｈｅｈｏｒｒｏｒｔｈｅｈｏｒｒｏｒ Imagine if the game, whenever it tells us to "give up" the fight, brought up this very idea that I've just rambled upon, subtly or otherwise. I'm pretty sure, to anyone emotionally and mentally distraught sufficiently by that point, that would be the moment they'd be beyond scared straight, take their hands off their controllers/keyboards-and-mice, and really think hard and confront at last about justifying and proceeding any further with the struggle for Ending E—and such challenging taunts would effectively temper those words of encouragement from other well-wishing players in the background. And it'd be really interesting (and funny) if the next Drakengard/Nier game (regardless of setting in the series timeline) were to use the player's actions in N:A's Ending E as a plot device by subtly checking the relevant achievements and stats online on PSN/Steam/XBL, etc. To drive home the fact that since we had "symbolically" killed Yoko Taro, et al., previously, with "no one" to properly tell the story anymore, the hypothetical game would trigger a game-breaking outcome ranging from inability to create a New Game, to abrupt cut-to-black endings at the latter stages of the story, to a completely different, anti-climactic, intelligently insulting, and illogically light-hearted plot and endings made by a different writer. And we can never go back and "undo" what we did before. Unless we make a new game account without any play history of N:A, that is 😜. ~ — — — ~ Nier: Automata's Ending E, taking this realization to account, perhaps instead deep down subtly served as the culmination of the themes of the game and our actions as players, breaking out of the confines of fiction, resulting in something that further advanced and solidified the same, common grim message of the franchise. Ironically, such an ending that was meant (or we thought) to be a symbol and illustration of our humanity finally rising up in times of darkness, was actually more like the validation of our inhumanity, that we let ourselves sink even deeper into the proverbial heart of darkness. That in the very end despite the clear chance to finally come to terms with the game, we'd still end up throwing out of the window all what we've learned from the game's narrative, and choose to keep playing and keep pushing with this self-destructive cycle, into doing something more "horrific" than what we've done in the game as we keep on justifying it further, and blindly assume in the end that Pod 042 and us have become heroes, that we've made a difference, that we've saved 2B, 9S, and A2, that we've helped others, and that we could then entitle ourselves to a much less bleak ending and feel better with all of that. To the point where we have dehumanized the game's staff in the credits despite the fact they're literally representing actual people. The game has warned us about this path, but through our naivety, and peer pressure, we had stopped caring. And it makes our intended goals and desires rather frivolous and thus meaningless anyway, as what the Nier guy found out the hard way. It ultimately illustrated what we are and what we are capable of to satisfy our obsessions; that we had truly went way too far and sunk way too low... and what those personally say a lot about us as players (and as persons). I have a hunch Yoko had all of this on his mind as well—but it is up to us, to figure out and realize that all by ourselves (and no, that has nothing to do with the so-called "final secret" of the game). Now with those in mind, let's keep on enjoying and being proud of our hard-fought "upliftingly positive, good, happy" ending while it lasts. But hey, at the end of the day, it's all just a video game; it isn't real, a silly little thing of an entertainment medium; we all didn't mean to hurt anyone for real after all, so why should we even care at all? ~ — — — ~ But then again, as they would say, that's just a theory... an alternate theory! So yeah, these are my long, winding, rambling unconventional thoughts about N:A's Ending E. I've started writing this since last year during the latter part of my subsequent more thorough playthrough, stewing this up as I incorporate more thoughts into it in the process after all that brainstorming (and procrastinating), waiting for the proper mood to post it here. However, as its contents bloated, I chose to split this up, this one focusing on the morality of fighting the game in that ending. So, therefore, this is just the beginning, and certain points [may] have been omitted, for now. For "too soon" reasons I held back posting this for a while in deference to what happened in Kyoto, Japan recently—which is also why I would advice against making references to Ending E messages of encouragement as words of solidarity to the victims of said incident, because of the premise of the ending sequence as I've just talked about. And as Yoko Taro had pretty much provided us plenty of room to talk about the game, I hope this opens up a new take in discussing the game, the aforementioned ending, and the themes and messages surrounding those.