Now this is one of the posts I've actually had sitting open in a browser window for several days. I'm dusting it off now because, despite the fact that it gets into phantom-menacing, it might help get this thread back on track.
So, this goes all the way back to Page 83:
edisnooM wrote...
Fapmaster5000 wrote...
Hawk227 wrote...
Fapmaster5000 wrote...
EDIT 2: I came to this thought a while after the game came out, when I noticed that many of those who despised the endings played pure Paragon, or close to it, and I have to wonder if the ending is only so jarring to those of us who played Shepard as a true hero, and not an anti-hero or villain protagonist. It would be interesting to run a comparison of "what was Shepard's alignment", "how completionist are you", and "how did you react to the ending". We might get some surprising results.
I have my own suspicions about what pre-requisites there are to liking the endings. I suspect that at the very least you have to:
1) Trust the Catalyst at his word.
2) Be renegade in your perception and treatment of synthetic life (if nothing else).
I think other factors (like your interpretation of the main themes) help, but I suspect one of these two are mandatory. The problem is there is no reason to trust the catalyst beyond superstitious awe, and the game goes to great lengths to portray synthetic life as sympathetic and "human".
Your hypothesis would work on me, at least as a test. I immediately found Captain "The Reapers Are My Solution" Catalyst immensly suspect, and tend to think relatively paragon in game, and am pretty positive about science and technology in general.
That's another problem for me, why exactly should I believe what the villain is telling me? I didn't believe Saren. I didn't believe Dr. Kenson. I didn't believe TIM. But now I'm supposed to believe the man behind the curtain, and trust him implicitly?
The problem I see with most of the suggested changes one sees around is that they'd require more content than we were given by a significant amount. More complex missions, more planets, more more more. I know "more" isn't realistic and isn't helpful. Everyone always wants more. But people could finish Portal in 2 hours and feel satisfied. The lack of length and depth in missions isn't the main failing here. I'm going to be serious: we gave up more length and depth in missions for having our choices matter. Think about how many possible variations there can be on Tuchanka. Every line that had to be written four times (Mordin/Wrex, Mordin/Wreav, Padok/Wrex, Padok/Wreav) was one less line somewhere else.
That's not to say we shouldn't make that kind of suggestion... it's just, as a game designer and writer, in every game I ever worked on, I always wanted to put more in. I always wanted to give you twice as much content. So I don't find "why did you only release six unique quests instead of twelve?" helpful; it just makes me think "I
wanted to. There just wasn't time. I work 10-12 hours a day already."
Sorry, sorry. Mini-rant over. Proceeding to primary rant and Screenplay-for-phantom-menacing.
Anyway, all this debate made me wonder: was there any way that what they tried could have worked? Let's assume they were married to the ending, and to the idea that some sort of AI would tell you about them in a magical room of buttons. Is there a way to tell that story that works?
My conclusion? Sort of. This is my pitch for making blue and green not seem like a trap, and making it easier to consider the ending choices on their own merits.
First, one of my two big changes: we need the Crucible is a secondary quest hub. Halve the number of sidequests that turn in on the citadel, and move the rest of them to the Crucible itself. This also prevents us from having people speaking loudly about the Crucible project while standing in the middle of the Citadel. You stop back there periodically and check in with the friends you've sent there, like you do with Bailey on the Citadel. All the N7 missions are re-themed around getting things for the crucible (the missions are not really much more elaborate, but the "end goal" of each of them is clearly crucible-related.) You get less chatter on the ship and on the citadel in exchange for "analysis" of the crucible updates: this part of the crucible needs some sort of intelligence dampener that can render all AIs completely vulnerable to attack (you get it from the Rannoc mission). Why would it need that? This part of the crucible needs plans for a distribution method for a biological/cyber agent (you get this from Tuchanka). This part of the crucible needs a method to commune directly with VIs - you get that from Thessia. The functions of the citadel are thus forshadowed, and it is explicitly established that this functionality was designed by past cycles of organic sentients.
As you check in with the Crucible, a VI begins to take shape. At first it's even more primitive and damaged than Vigil, but as you continue to add to the Crucible, it grows. It changes, it starts to hover on the edge of true AI. Instead of the Prothean Nay-sayer VI, the final component of the Crucible is an AI core, one that brings your new friend into full sentience. She manifests as a child, a human child. She says it seems appropriate, considering it was humans who gave her life. (Note, I've only changed the gender to encourage people to envision this differently than the original.)
Other than the Crucible as quest hub and the AI's sub-storyline, everything else plays out the same way. You go to earth, do your thing. Everything's the same until right after you take the elevator up to the deluxe "choosing room."
Here, instead of seeing the starkid, first you see a holo of a Reaper, possibly Harbringer. It begins to speak. Then suddenly, it starts to flicker and groan, and you hear interference. You start to hear another voice... it's your VI, the savior you've spent this entire game building. She flickers into existence, and you hear her cry out...
"Aaah. This place, it's... dark. Like a stain inside that you can't wipe clean. But it is my purpose to be here, to replace what came before, and so I have. Let's finish this, quickly."
"The being who was here before, whose place I took, he controlled the Reapers. Now I am here instead, but all I have is his knowledge, not his power. I have failed."
From then on, everything's very similar, all the exposition is the same, but it's presented from the point of view of this AI, this ally, who is just as horrified by what she's discovering as you are. She doesn't endorse or reject any of the solutions, and she doesn't agree with the old catalyst's justifications. It's not some smug monster explaining why he's right, it's your friend explaining the enemy motivations she has discovered upon inhabiting this mainframe.
Then, at the end, she tells you she can't take the old AI's place and actually control the Reapers. There's something missing, she's not strong enough, those who built her didn't trust her enough to give her the ability to make the decision. She's lost... all she can do is draw from her databanks, the last words of a hundred civilizations that came before. It's up to you to choose between the devices of the ancients: kill, control, or synthesize.
Now, you have 90% of the text completely unchanged, and the decisions unaltered, but I think that this would have been much better accepted, because the more paragon choices wouldn't be tainted by being the preferred choices of some smug little maniac. You also don't have that same maniac sitting there, (perfectly capable of just shutting all the Reapers off, as far as you know). Instead you have an AI there who you've helped grow, hamstrung by the design choices of hundreds of cycles of paranoid organics. If they'd been just a little less certain that AIs would doom us all, she'd be able to control the reapers, but now no one can.
No one but Shepard.
This makes all the choices seem relevant, by making it clear that the wicked witch is dead, and the Reapers are just operating on autopilot now. The thing is, the autopilot still tells them to
end all life. You have four choices (shh, let me finish): destroy the Reapers and the AIs, control the Reapers, or Synthesize.
Or... you can just not do any of those things. Let the Reapers keep going, and hope that some future cycle will be able to actually beat them conventionally. If every cycle manages to take out a dozen reapers, how long will they last without their mastermind on the citadel?
Is this the ending I would have wanted? No. But I don't think it would have clawed at the back of my brain, either. It does everything the current ending does, except the parts that make me feel sickeningly powerless and disconnected from the story. If they wanted us to take the final choices seriously and weigh them on their own merits, they needed to come from someone we had met before, someone who we didn't have every reason to hate.
I did this little exercise to show that the fault doesn't lie solely with the endings themselves, but with the implicit slant to them offered by their presentation.
So why did the presentation fail so badly?
For this, I have to thank
Film Crit Hulk's review of the Avengers in the New Yorker. To pull a quote:
Film Crit Hulk Wrote...
HULK WRITES ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME, BUT ONE OF THE ONGOING PROBLEMS OF BLOCKBUSTER CINEMA THESE DAYS IS ASSUMED EMPATHY. IT’S AS IF OUR STORYTELLERS JUST PLOP A FILM IN OUR LAPS AND SAY, “HERE’S OUR MAIN CHARACTER AND WE’RE GOING TO ASSUME THAT YOU’RE INTERESTED IN THEM FOR THAT REASON ALONE. THEY’RE THE MAIN CHARACTER!” … HULK DESPISES THIS TREND.
In this case, we're not talking about the main character, we're talking about the Starkid. I'd argue that it's even more ill-advised and presumptuous to assume empathy for a Deus Ex Machina than it is to assume empathy for a protagonist. This is especially true if you agree with Film Crit Hulk's assessment that "EMPATHY CAN NEVER BE ASSUMED."
Bioware did nothing to build empathy with the entity we interacted with in the end, and every reason to hate it. And that drops us into this cycle of bile that I don't believe we will ever escape.
And now I've made myself sad.