Mass Effect 3: Synthesis and Refusal

Of all the ending scenarios, I chose Synthesis. This isn’t to say that I thought or think it was the perfect ending—since, you know, still no blue children—but it was the one I felt achieved most of my goals. While Destroy would’ve also fully removed the threat of the Reapers, Synthesis allowed everyone the chance to actually live as well. Everyone, including the geth and EDI, survived. It was important to me that they survive, especially EDI. They had only just reached full self-awareness; it would be a tragedy not to be able to live and explore what it means to live. It just didn’t seem fair that they should have to pay with their lives for the aggression of the Reapers.

Nonetheless, Synthesis left a mosquito bite on my conscience. (The one for gaming, not IRL, silly.)

By forcing everyone to transcend their current stage of evolution, did I rob them of their right to evolve on a more natural path? Is synthesizing organic and synthetic life without anyone’s permission essentially the same thing as rewriting the geth heretics to agree with the non-heretics (another icky decision)? And to what extent was life in the galaxy “synthesized”? Did it apply only to the species who had achieved space flight and were participants in the greater galactic community? Did it include plant life? Single-celled organisms? Non-space-faring civilizations like the yaag? Has everyone, everything, everywhere in the entire Milky Way galaxy suddenly jumped forward to the final stage of evolution (itself a problematic concept because since when has evolution been leading up to anything at all)?

Those last questions are probably getting too nitpicky and might be answered fairly with, “It’s just a story. Get over it*.” But the first two bring up fair points. Personally, I would answer no to both of them.

No, synthesizing organics and synthetics did not rob anyone of a better, or “more natural,” evolutionary path. The evolution of any species depends entirely on that species’ suitability for survival in a given environment. This suitability is determined by a number of factors, but the most salient one is “not dying.” Given the predated nature of the environment (i.e., that there were Reapers in it), synthesis enabled the most number of people to survive and continue their lives as they saw fit. And I don’t accept any suggestion that the evolution of one’s own species either is or should be beyond that species’ capacity to influence or even determine—especially when that species has reached the level of technological advancement present in the Mass Effect universe. In other words, synthesis between organics and synthetics as an evolutionary path is just as natural as the path that has brought humans to our current stage of evolution.

No, synthesis is not the same as rewriting the geth heretics. When/if Shepard rewrote the geth heretics, she took something away from them: their perspective. Synthesis actually gives new perspective. More accurately, the new perspective is a bonus of synthesis. Rewriting the heretics took away their right to free thought in the interest of removing conflict. Synthesis, on the other hand, elevated and enlightened organic and synthetic thought and nature to the point that martial conflict was no longer necessary. The galactic community is still as diverse as it ever was, and everyone still has free will in their own lives. But now there’s a common thread that binds everyone. This thread is what has allowed everyone to surpass the limitations in understanding that make war an inevitability.

Or maybe I’m an optimist who’s splitting hairs because I want to justify my choice.

One last thought on Synthesis and then we’ll move on to Refusal.

A lot of people have voiced a complaint that’s somewhere along the lines of, “Um, how exactly is metal supposed acquire DNA?” I’ll move right past the response of “Who said synthetics were metal?” to say I don’t know the answer to this question, and frankly, I’m not interested in it. After all of the impossible things we’ve accepted about this story—faster-than-light travel**, explosions and sound in the vacuum of space, and a magic “element” that gives people telekinetic powers in addition to solving a plethora of other inconvenient physical improbabilities like Earth-like gravity on spaceships—this is the one point where we’re going to cease suspending our disbelief? Really? That particular line of criticism holds no interest for me.

So. Refusal.

Good on Shepard. Trillions of lives were brutally snuffed out, but this way she doesn’t have to feel morally presumptuous. Principled self-sacrifice for everyone, on the house! And hey, look! We get to have an ending in which the Reapers win. Of course, they only win because you’ve chosen to let them win, but beggars can’t be choosers?

Not much can really be said about this ending because there’s not much there. It was created as an attempt to appease a fan base that felt cheated, not as a legitimately considered ending for the story. The producers bet that people wouldn’t want or expect an ending in which Shepard lost, and they bet wrong. Refusal met the demand but only at face value. They would’ve had to rewrite the entire game (the moral-choice algorithm, that is, not just the narrative) to get an ending in which the Reapers won. I think the producers just got so wrapped up in the ability of the player to make decisions that they lost sight of the fact that players were more interested in seeing the consequences of those actions. Losing to the Reapers should’ve been a consequence, not a decision.

I am curious, however, about the Stargazer at the end of the game with this decision. How did this new civilization achieve peace exactly? What made them so special that they heeded the warnings of past cycles when every other species has only ever either ignored or not found them? And we know what Shepard’s choices were at the end. Were they different for the next organic who activated the Crucible? What choice did that organic make?

Like I said: bandage. BioWare would’ve done better to stand by its original endings (including the extended cuts) than to try to shoehorn a (non)solution into the story that really just creates more confusion.

 

*And if I tried to answer them here, I’d be writing a book, not a blog post.

**Until those results can be replicated and supported more thoroughly, I’ll stick with Dr. Einstein and his homies on this one.

Mass Effect 3: Destorying vs. Controlling the Reapers

Here are a couple of simple logical syllogisms:

• Red = Renegade. Red = Destroy. Renegade = Destroy.
• Blue = Paragon. Blue = Control. Paragon = Control.

BioWare spent the entire franchise establishing the red/blue color system, so I don’t think quibbling over that particular point is worthwhile. However, I am willing to consider that these colors were not properly assigned in the final choice of the game.

Ostensibly, the definitive marker for either path is the body count: the more people you kill/hurt, the more Renegade you are, and the more people you save/spare/help, the more Paragon you are. A Renegade Shepard is also xenophobic, generally paranoid, and completely unhindered by that pesky social thing called consideration—she likes to let her fists do the talking. A Paragon Shepard, on the other hand, is touchy-feely and wants to save everyone all the time and would, let’s face it, out-naïve even a five-year-old. So, on the surface, the endings seem appropriately colored. The kill-em-all, show-neither-mercy-nor-quarter ending seems to fit perfectly within the paradigm of a Renegade Shepard; the but-we-don’t-have-to-kill-them, and-we-get-bonus-tech ending seems like something a Paragon Shepard would do. Or so it would seem.

The most obvious clue that not everything is as it should be is visual. The developers chose the Illusive Man to act out the Paragon choice and Admiral Anderson to act out the Renegade choice. Wuh? First of all, no. The Illusive Man is a renegade in every sense, including the dictionary definition (the second one). And Anderson? He’s brave, self-sacrificing, diplomatic (though lacking in political gusto), and even a little naïve—clearly, he was created to be part of the Paragon tradition. Why the sudden change?

Let’s go back to those definitions we were just talking about. Maybe that will provide some clarity.

The Destroy ending definitely racks up a body count. Depending on your EMS, it’s entirely possible that killing the Reapers also results in killing everyone on Earth. And of course, regardless of your EMS, all the Geth and EDI (poor Joker!) end up being the unfortunate collateral damage in the genocide (synthecide?) of the Reapers. However, destroying the Reapers also stops the cycle of “harvesting” and doesn’t necessarily have to result in the deaths of everyone and everything on Earth. Furthermore, choosing to destroy the Reapers leaves the lines of FTL communication and transportation damaged but reparable, which at least partly preserves the galactic economy. The peace following the defeat of the Reapers may be ephemeral*, but at least our destruction would be our own**, not the will of something that claims to know what’s best for us. The catalyst claims to have created the Reapers to protect organic life (Three Laws gone astray, anyone?); destroying them to protect free will—even if it is ultimately destructive to our long-term survival interest—is a Hobbesian cry of “Liberty or death!”

The Control ending on the other hand, was always off-putting to me, even without the overt association with the Illusive Man. While “destroy” is a pretty cut-and-dried word, “control” has more nuance that I find sinister. After all, didn’t the Reapers seek to control organics through indoctrination? And didn’t every indoctrinated slave think it was still in “control”? Didn’t the Reapers, in fact, want the Illusive Man to “control” them, or at least to believe that he could? Oh, and the only thing she has to give up to do it is her life. AND HER ENTIRE IDENTITY. And what about Shepard’s epilogue? Those were not the notes belonging to a benevolent government and a harmonious society and the fluffy bunnies and rainbows that run things. Those were the notes that introduce a villain. The “peace” that the galaxy knows now is not the result of a concerted effort on all sides to work together with mutual respect and dignity. It’s a result of the fact that the Shepard-Reaper fleet is pointing a lot of huge fucking guns at them and saying, “Play nice.” She may have been “the one to save the many” (I see what you did there, BioWare), but what kind of salvation is that? It sounds a bit more like tyranny to me. And how long will it be before she decides to “protect” everyone by harvesting and archiving them all over again. Because then at least they wouldn’t be killing each other.

Furthermore, the prospect that controlling the Reapers would advance our own technology by leaps in bounds makes me suspicious. It sounds a bit like the snake trying to sell the apple to me. It smacks at hubris, and we all know what happens to everyone with that particular tragic flaw. (If you don’t know, I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version: Your shit gets fucked sideways.)

So, basically, I think that BioWare got the colors wrong. Destroying the Reapers should’ve been the Paragon option; controlling them should’ve been the Renegade option. In the long run, the former has a much smaller body count than the latter.

And it’s not that I’m trying to dumb down the complexity of the final choice. I loved it. It was hard, and I don’t think it should’ve been easier to make. That complexity was a good thing for a game trying to work on the principle of having players make difficult moral choices. I think BioWare got the colors wrong because the choices are inconsistent with the type of character that would’ve chosen them. I believe a Paragon Shepard would’ve seen allowing the Reapers to remain as they are (even with a little Shepard-juice infusion) was dangerous for the entire galaxy, just as the lure of ultimate control and vast technological power would’ve been too great a temptation for a Renegade Shepard to resist.

Or maybe the developers just didn’t want to make it that cut-and-dried, that obvious, that easy. If that’s the case, the obfuscation of the two main choices reveals either inartful writing (if I’m being harsh) or the shortfall of our current gaming technology in its ability to support the myriad narrative outcomes that are necessarily a part of taking different moral paths (if I’m being generous). It’s probably a lot closer to the latter.

 

*On a side note, I figured out why the Destroy ending is the only one that allows Shepard to live! Galactic war, though distant, is an eventuality in this universe, not just a possibility. Where there is war, there are warriors and heroes. The world still has a place for Shepard and people like her! (Yay theory!)

**“I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.” Robert Frost

Mass Effect 3 in General

Here there be spoilers, mateys. (But really, what else would you expect?)

Overall, I think the game was good. The effects were gorgeous. And the soundtrack? Stirring. Emotional. Beautiful. I could listen to it all day. Seriously. I even made a Pandora station around it, and I’m listening to it right now. Most of the new enemies, especially the Banshee and the Brute, were a pleasant challenge. (“Pleasant challenge” meaning, of course, that the Banshees freaked the shit out of me with their—apt—shrieking and the Brutes had me running terrified most of the time.) The pacing, which has always been a nagging issue in the franchise for me, was pretty good in this game.

The narrative was also good, though problematic (to say the least) at points. Many people seemed to be upset that pretty much nothing you did could avoid Shepard’s death (which isn’t entirely true, but true enough). Personally, I think it was fairly predictable given the number of hints that were dropped during the game, not to mention the game developers’ continued insistence that this installment would definitely be the full-stop end to Shepard’s story. And then there’s the hero’s name itself: Shepard. The highly religious symbolism that accompanies this name is hard to miss. We end up with a character who is a leader and a unifier, who brings peace through self-sacrifice. Could the story really have ended any other way with such contextual trappings? Without the Reapers, Shepard has no purpose. She becomes Frodo, wasting away in the Shire, hollowed out from an experience that was just so much bigger than she was. The Mass Effect world didn’t need her anymore, so it was necessary to cut her out of it.

Mostly, I was just disappointed that I wouldn’t get to have a bunch of little blue children.

Shepard’s nearly unavoidable demise, however, is only a symptom of the most disappointing (and ironic) aspect of the game: that ultimately your choices don’t matter, or at least they don’t obviously matter much. They matter in building your Effective Military Strength and in whether less than a handful of side characters survive, but not in the fundamental narrative of your Shepard’s story. Did you kill the Rachni queen in ME? That’s okay, the Reapers got a replacement. Did you choose Anderson to join the Council? Udina takes his place anyway so that he can serve the story by betraying them. Did you destroy the Collector base? Meh. The Illusive Man still got some of it anyway. To me, any one of these events should have forced the narrative in distinctly different directions. That the game more or less “corrects” your decisions undermines the entire gaming model, which is supposed to be based on choice. At the eleventh hour, the game shifted gears and becomes about the inexorability of destiny—the antithesis of free will and making choices of any kind, moral or amoral. I would have been perfectly content if at any point it became impossible to beat the Reapers due to past decisions. That’s war, especially when the opponent is so vastly superior in every way. If BioWare had taken that direction, I have a feeling they would’ve actually gotten a few backslaps for being ballsy enough to make a game with the possibility of being unbeatable.

And let’s talk more about this war thing. The game is overt in its value of Paragon character decisions. Literally. You gain way more EMS points, in general, for overall Paragon actions than you do for Renegade ones. I find this system lacking in nuance and sophistication because, frankly, being a nice person doesn’t win a war by itself. It might win charisma and support, which could translate into a victory, but you get a good dose of charisma and support in the game no matter what—it’s just written into Shepard’s character, regardless of your actions. Critical military decisions, though, don’t always reward goodness—because people lie and have ulterior motives and change their minds when their situations change. From a military perspective, there is no reason to allow the Rachni queen to live. Cold as it might be, saving the Council was not mission critical and could very well have resulted in losing the battle against Sovereign. And yet killing the queen and letting the Council die are designated Renegade (translation: “asshole”) actions, even though they would be perfectly defensible from a martial standpoint. Furthermore, these decisions are punished in the third installment, most commonly through the awarding of fewer EMS points.

All that being said, I’ve always found it difficult to choose anything but the Paragon actions. Because I’m a sap, I guess. I saved the queen. I spared Wrex. I saved the Council. I trusted Grunt. I trusted Legion. I protected Tali’s secret. I destroyed the Collector base. And so on. By the time I got to the Crucible, I’d maxed out my EMS with all the extra points I’d gotten for being such a good person—just like the game wanted me to be. So WHY THE FUCK is surviving only an option for the Destroy—i.e., Renegade—ending?! I feel like I did everything the game wanted me to do, had trained me to do, and got shit on for it. I feel like the Prodigal Son’s brother. Where the hell are my goddamn little blue children?!

Despite my misgivings, I really thought the game was excellent. The game itself was wicked fun to play, and I absolutely love the story. BioWare did a fantastic job if only in the spirit and not exactly the delivery of a moral-choice game. They’re doing something relatively new by blending the free will inherent to sims with the structure and engaging narrative of good RPGs. They’ve made colossal strides toward achieving a true synthesis of the two platforms (for loners like me, that is, who don’t play MMOs). I can’t wait to see what’s next from them.

The Things I Do for You

Well, I hope you’re happy. I went and watched the whole Friday the 13th franchise just so you wouldn’t have to. Well, the whole thing minus the reboot and Part V. I’m pretty sure Netflix likes to think of crack dealers as their business role models, but I could be wrong (i.e., those were the only two not streaming).

Here’s the verdict: You can skip all of them, but Part VI and Freddy vs. Jason are worth a watch. Unfortunately, they’re best viewed in the context of the other films, so there’s that.

Part VI, though far from scary, was pretty great for a couple of reasons.

Number one: Because Thom Mathews. Need I say more? What? You don’t know who he is? Sad for you. Clearly, you’re not part of the Cool Kids’ Club. If you were, you’d have seen the Return of the Living Dead trilogy, in which he played two—count ’em, two—different people from Part I to Part II. He gets zombified in both, but it’s really the second one where he captures the essence of what pain it is to be among the returned living dead: “But they smell so good! So spicy!” Finally! An honest recounting from a true gourmet of how brains smell! And probably the only time a zombie ever talked its victim into giving up the goods.

Number two: Breaking the fourth wall—you’re doin’ it right. Not genius, mind you, but still intelligent. We’ll call it gifted. My favorite: “Why’d they have to go and dig up Jason? [Gravedigger looks at the camera] Some folks sure got a strange idea of entertainment.” And the metadrama! The English major in me squee’d almost perpetually with delight.

Now, Freddy vs. Jason actually managed to scare me—mostly because of Freddy, but it still counts. The only time Jason ever scared me was when he jumped out of the lake at the end of the very first film. Anytime after that, he was mostly ridiculous, except in Freddy vs. Jason. I think because Freddy was able to literally turn Jason back into the deformed, tragically bullied child who was just terrified of water, the audience was able to get a glimpse of something human and pitiable, not the unstoppable-even-if-you-blow-him-to-pieces monster that we all know and are bored of by now.

I actually always wondered why “they” decided to pit Jason against Freddy. The two never seemed equitable to me. If anything, it should’ve been Jason vs. Mike Meyers. But, I guess they probably would’ve just left each other alone and gone on their separate killing sprees, which doesn’t really make for a compelling story. At any rate, I discovered the REAL reason it became Freddy vs. Jason and no other pairing: both franchises are owned by New Line Cinema. Plain and simple.

The thing I found most surprising while watching the films, though, is that Jason as we know him—visually, that is—isn’t actually a thing until the end of the third film. In the first film, he wasn’t even the murderer. In the second film, he wore a cloth sack over his head. In the third film, he steals his hockey mask from one of the kids he kills (Shelley—he was actually one of my favorites). I guess I had assumed that because his image is so iconic in the horror genre, he’d been that way from the beginning, like Freddy or Mike Meyers. He wasn’t, and I find that interesting in terms of branding. You’d think they would’ve wanted to establish the hockey-masked, machete-wielding version from the get-go, but that wasn’t the case here. You have to respect the staying power of a villain that remains nebulous until second film and then highly vulnerable until the fourth film.

So. There you have it. I’ve whittled the dozen films down to two for you. You can skip all the rest, as long as you don’t care about back story. Also, if you want to see Corey Feldman as a kiddi-poo and Crispin Glover at his least creepy/awkward, Part IV is worth a go too. I sacrificed a lot of brain cells in this endeavor. I hope you appreciate it.