Intro
Hey hey folks, and welcome to my critique of Nier: Automata. I want to start this off by telling you a story of the first time I took a class in film criticism. It's 2002, I'm 20 years old, and I'm studying animation at the Art Institute of Seattle. As an elective, I take a class in film. All the classes at the institute were in 4 hour blocks with a break in the middle, so for this class we'd watch a film, break, and then come back and discuss it. In the class’ first weeks we watched Mulholland Drive by David Lynch. I’d never seen anything like it before. When the credits rolled, I was angry. I think I yelled, "What? That's it?". I had no idea what was going on. After break we discussed the film. Not only the teacher, but some classmates who were more accustomed to this type of storytelling explained their theories. My world opened. I had no idea films could be like this. I got my hands on Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, and Lost Highway. Not only did I become a fan of David Lynch through discussing one of his films, it further opened my eyes to what cinema could be. I gained a greater appreciation of the artform through the thoughts of others.
It's why to this day, no matter what I think of a film, I'll read reviews, online discussion, and ask friends their opinions. It always leads to a deeper appreciation. I do the same thing with videogames. As I play I take notes after each session, but once a game is finished, I'll watch and read a lot of criticism to see what others thought about it. Part of it is the academic idea of finding gaps in the literature. What aren't people talking about, and is there anything in my notes that can further discussion on the game by approaching it in this way? But mostly it’s to further my own understanding. I'm a lot more confident in my opinions these days, and I want to see how they fare against everyone else's. If anything I think it leads to a more interesting piece of criticism when I finally start writing.
So now we come to Nier: Automata. Bluntly, I don't see what the fuss is about. I'd heard so much praise over the years, and especially after playing Nier, I was looking forward to this. The earnestness, emotion, and spectacle of that game combined with the budget and gameplay of a Platinum Games action title? It sounded too good to be true, and after playing through it, it was. Maybe my expectations were too high. Aside from two particular instances in the game (which I'll talk about in more detail later), I spent my time in Nier: Automata confused as to what is happening, and why I should care. I didn't have emotional attachment to any of the characters (except for Pascal), and the nods and references to philosophy, philosophers, and what it means to be human rang hollow to me. It all seemed like a wink and a nod rather than using the ideas to accomplish something unique.
That’s why I was looking forward to the writings of others. To find out what I was missing. Do you ever feel like something may be too smart for you? That's how I felt when Mulholland Drive ended, and like the movie, when Automata was done, I looked to others to explain it to me. I also wanted to see if I was alone in regards to the game doing nothing for me. And it turns out that aside from one exception, I was alone. Everybody loves this game. Not only that, they think it's a masterpiece of literature. That its themes resonate deeply. That it's a treatise on how to find meaning in life, how to reject nihilism, and how to endure through suffering. And yeah, all that is in there. I could see it as I played, but almost none of it affected me emotionally. In this video I’ll be exploring my thoughts and feelings about the game. What I found interesting and resonant, and why I wasn't able to come away from Nier: Automata with the reverence that so many others seem to have for it. Enjoy.
“We’re not so different, you and I.”
Nier: Automata is about robots imitating humanity. Imitating our mistakes, and due to their programming, not learning from them. The machines think that if they imitate humanity, they can find the answers they're seeking. We fascinate them because we’re a contradiction. In the second fight with Adam, we find out that the machines that came to Earth as part of an alien invasion killed their masters long ago. The machines saw nothing worthwhile in those that created them, but humanity is somehow different. Adam poses a question that fascinates him about human beings. How can a creature be so full of love yet kill its own kind so easily? Now to find his answer he wants to dissect the brains of the humans on the moon, but still, it's a fascination nonetheless.
Now the humans are dead. I don't want to act like I was oh so clever for figuring this out pretty much once I learned that the androids on the moon were trying to liberate Earth from the machines for the mysterious council of humanity, but it seemed like an obvious revelation. Nier was full of sadness and I thought to myself, "What would crush the spirit of the androids we're controlling? Hmm. What if the humans they fight for were wiped out long ago?" And this revelation is so understated too. A lot of Nier: Automata's most important moments are. To return to the idea of the robots imitating humanity, there's a revelation late in Playthrough C where 9S discovers that the black box that is the core of the androids, what makes them them, is built out of machine parts. The androids may be made in the image of humans, they may be more complex, but what was the question Adam posed? How can a creature be so full of love yet kill its own kind so easily? It's cause the other kind look different right?
This was a source of constant irritation as I played through the game. 2B is supposed to be the stoic assassin, but as we keep playing, we encounter not only machines talking, but Pascal's pacifist village, with 9S constantly repeating the mantra of machines having no thought or reason behind anything they do. While playing 2B I felt she was amiable to the idea of the machines being more than they appear to be, which seems ironic seeing that we learn her true purpose is to kill 9S when he becomes too self-aware. Of course by the time 9S reaches these revelations that everything the androids were fighting for is a lie, he's so consumed by rage over the death of 2B that he's become immune to reason. Funnily enough when Adam had captured 9S in playthrough B he mentions how machines can only focus on one thing at a time, and for Adam, the guiding principle that consumes him is hatred. I don't think Adam actually corrupted 9S (well no more than learning a new idea can corrupt an existing belief), but I do wonder what the point of 9S flooding the network with his own consciousness in the ending of playthrough B meant, when in playthrough C everything crumbles as it seemed it was ordained to. Nevertheless, the important point is that for most of playthrough C, 9S is consumed by hatred and vengeance. His guiding principle echoes Adam’s. After all, machines can only focus on one thing at a time.
Pascal’s Wager
The machine that changes the way our androids view the machines themselves is Pascal. Pascal’s guiding principle is pacifism. He’s created a safe-haven for machines that want to live a peaceful existence. Like the machines of the forest, or the cult in the abandoned factory, Pascal's followers don't seem to possess the same sense of self as their leaders. One thing all these groups share is that they’ve disconnected themselves from the machine network, and at least from the events of the game, this seems to be where everything goes wrong. The leader of the cult is dead by the time we arrive, and without their figurehead the followers devolve into zealous murder and suicide. The forest machines sacrifice themselves for a king that can no longer lead them, and while Pascal's village seems like it's working well enough, these disconnections from the network with the machines emulating various facets of human civilization was all part of the machine network's plan. I still don't know why the machines decided to cannibalize the village, and why they were so hell bent on attacking the village's children, but in the end it doesn't matter. Trying to protect his village leads to one of the only aforementioned 2 times where I actually cared about the characters of this game.
Pascal taught the children fear, and it was that guiding principle of fear that caused them to commit suicide. Of course by this point their death seems moot since in choosing to protect them, Pascal sacrifices his ideals of pacifism, what made him who he is. I can see why he asks A2 to either destroy his memories or kill him. Not only did he sacrifice his ideals, but it didn’t help. He blames himself for teaching the children the wrong thing. I sympathized. I had grown to like Pascal's idealism and didn't want to leave him suffering or kill him, so I wiped his memories. The final cutscene of Ending E warns of the risk of making the same mistakes all over again if 2B and 9S are allowed to live. Based on their programming, there’s a good chance for them to not learn from what has happened, and to repeat the suffering and anguish we’ve played through. I have no evidence for it, but felt that with the idea that androids could live for hundreds if not thousands of years, and that there were differences in the A and B playthroughs, that everything in the game has played out repeatedly in countless cycles over the centuries. It could easily play out the same way again, but the pods believe that as long as there's free will, there's the possibility that things may turn out differently. I felt the same regarding Pascal. He deserved a second chance.
We can’t do anything alone
But even though I cared about Pascal, and found the moment poignant due to his anguish and what he asks of A2, I still had no idea why any of it was happening. That's the biggest hurdle I have yet to clear when thinking back on my time with the game. I just didn't understand any of it. So little is told to the player as they proceed through the playthroughs. Yoko Taro has gone on record saying he prefers to write scenes based around emotion, and I appreciate that, except I didn't care about any of the characters. For the first playthrough I was playing a buddy cop duo of emotionless androids. Ok, 9S definitely has his own personality, but it makes no sense. Heck, by the time they sacrifice themselves at the end of the intro, they act like good friends. I had no idea where that came from, and spending more time with these characters didn't do much to warm me to them. I never understood a reason for 2B to care about 9S, and really, I never got a read on either of their personalities. I mean this could be by design. I did argue earlier that the androids are nothing more than fancier machines, and maybe they can't have a personality apart from a guiding principle, but there is emotion there, for how little effect it had on me.
I think Pascal's anguish affected me mostly due to the gravity of the choice on offer, or at least the spectacle of the fight, and all the melodrama beforehand giving the choice weight. Not only did I witness Pascal's ideals fail him, but then I had a decision to make in regards to their agency and whether or not it was right to relieve their suffering, and in which way. I think the immense struggle of the fight beforehand helped in making this moment resonate. Videogames are uniquely equipped to depict struggle, and to use that struggle to make a point. It's why despite my problems with Nier: Automata, I thought that what the game accomplishes with Ending E almost makes up for the rest of it. Almost.
Ending E is playing with a few ideas. The first is that in order to save the characters that we have supposedly grown to cherish over the length of our multiple playthroughs, the final boss is to fight the game itself. To kill its gods, to fire upon its creators. As the credits continue, this bullet hell shooter becomes an insurmountable obstacle. I love that the moment where this occurs is when the credits for Square Enix and its Business Division appear. Everytime we fail the game asks if we want to give up, and finally after multiple attempts, as the messages of encouragement from other players have become more and more prominent, and that song that I've been humming for 2 weeks reaches its crescendo, we're asked if we want help. Accepting it allows us to succeed. The firepower and protection of other players adds to our own, and the names of those evil businessmen crumble before our might as the chorus swells. It's a powerful, effective moment, and after all the games' misery and nihilism, to end with this is stirring. The idea that our strength comes from other people. That we can't truly do anything alone. The game ends with hope. I haven't come across any piece of writing that didn't have positive things to say about Ending E and I agree wholeheartedly. So why couldn't the rest of the game have been this strong?
Conclusion
Plenty of folks think the rest of Nier: Automata is this strong. While I found the references to philosophers surface level (Oh, the robot is called Jean-Paul and he's a dick), others seemed to love the nods to prolific thinkers. While I never knew what was going on and why, scrambling for answers, others were finding meaning in the journey and its revelations. While I couldn't care less about 2B, 9S, or A2 as characters, others connected to them and my guess is it made all the difference. I'm in the minority here. Aside from the beauty of Ending E, I just can't see what others see in Nier: Automata. Did I expect too much after playing Nier? Is it just that the ideas of finding purpose and empathy instead of killing are so foreign to the medium of videogames that Nier: Automata feels like a breath of fresh air? I'm trying not to be a dick here but I didn't find the ideas the game plays with that unique or revelatory, even after listening to what everyone else had to say. Ah well, at least the music's great. Thanks for watching.
