#Oh Stanley - the Narrator was just taunting you

[sysig]

It’s me, Stanley, I’m the Bucket, speaking to you inside your brain, listen to me, Stanley, leave your wife, we don’t need her! Come with me and play my games, you need me, Stanley, your free will is an illusio- (Patreon)

He’s just jealous

Tell me this isn’t exactly the PS5 meme tho

[hislifesuckspoll]

Alright here's Stanley propaganda add it to the post. Content warning for a brief mention of suicide and general existential horror.

So basically. He's the protagonist of a somewhat shitty story made by a somewhat pretentious disembodied British voice who's basically god. And he's stuck in what's effectively a timeloop- every time he reaches an ending, or every time he dies (usually it's death)

The normal plot of the story is that one day, Stanley goes to his job where he literally just presses buttons for a comical amount of time, and all of his coworkers are gone. He investigates, and learns that he's been under mind control his whole life. He turns off the machine and escapes into the wild, still with questions.

AND THEN THE LOOP RESETS. Because yeah, TIME LOOP.

That's only one end- are any of the others like. Happy?? No. No. None of them.

Countdown End? He gets fucking exploded with a nuke while the Narrator taunts him for trying to gain control over the situation. Museum Ending? He gets crushed by a death trap. Insanity Ending? He has an existential crisis and dies. Apartment Ending? He thinks for a moment he's gonna get to see his wife again, but NOPE it's a fucking mannequin. Zending? You must kill yourself while the Narrator begs you to stop.

There is not a single ending where Stanley gets happiness. Even in any where he COULD, such as the Freedom End, where the final line is literally "And Stanley was happy," it does not last forever!! Because the end is never the end! The loop will always reset.

Stanley is trapped in a single office building, following a story written by the voice of something beyond human, caught in an eternal game with him where they're constantly trying to destroy and control each other. He's following a story about gaining control of your life, and is completely unable to gain control over his life.

Oh yeah, AND he can't exist without the player. Like literally. In an ending where the Narrator realizes he's been talking to you the player and not Stanley, it ends with you being booted out of Stanley's body, and he LITERALLY can't do anything. He may not even be conscious in there.

On the subject of Stanley being completely unable to do anything for a period of time- there's an ending where Stanley is frozen in time for increasingly long periods, up to trillions of years according to calculations, while the Narrator goes completely insane and you're literally forced to KEEP SKIPPING AHEAD. It's FUCKED. I LOVE it.

There are two more canon ends to TSPUD- one where the Narrator's like "Okay I'm gonna stop writing Stanley (he does not stop writing stanley) (it's a metaphor for being an artist /srs)" and, if he did stop writing Stanley/leave the Parable, Stanley pretty much doesn't exist anymore. The second "end" (epilogue) is where the loop continues, the Parable continues to spiral in on itself, and Stanley is still trapped in the Parable and will never fucking escape its horrifying death trap.

Also he's in love with a bucket and the bucket is his only friend

VOTE STANLEY HIS LIFE SUCKS AND HE DESERVES A WIN FOR ONCE

An incredible amount of propaganda 🤚🏼

[moft-man]

I would love to see more about the dynamic between Stanley and the Narrator!! What kind of relationship do they have? Are they on good terms?

first off, ALLEN HIII SILLY!!!!!!

with that out of the way! prep for a long, incoherent, rambling answer below the cut! (I do not know how to format my thoughts <//3)

hope this makes some sense!!

Stanley and Narrys relationship is. confusing? but as of now they certainly don't hate eachother.

in the original release, things were *rough* between them. Stanley was angry and frustrated and spiteful and did everything he could to get back at this taunting voice that followed his every move, hated that this thing had power over him, hated that no matter what he did, it was ALWAYS there, always waiting for him back at the start with another story of a man named Stanley. They fought and fought and hurt each other over and over and over again. Stanley out of anger and spite for being trapped in this seemingly never-ending hell, and Narrator out of frustration and confusion that his story that he spent so so long on, poured his soul into was being twisted against him, ruined, unappreciated. So he hurt Stanley, killed him over and over, let Stanley die. Cold, distant. They fought like this for years- or longer, who knows? Neither of them know how long they've been there truly, time doesn't pass this same in the loops.

but after doing this to each other over and over, they just. it just got too much. they were both tired of it.

this change obviously wasn't immediate. it was slow and gradual. Hell, the pair hardly even noticed it happening.

Little things. A silly achievement that left Stanley laughing so hard his sides hurt, listening to the voice send him on wild goose chase clicking on doors and copy machines and climbing on desks. A stupid song in a white void that was supposed to be insulting but Stanley seemed to enjoy nonetheless. Mutual agreements that they both deserve a break. quiet moments in the employee lounge. Oh fine, I suppose you can sit in the broom closet for a little while. Thanks, we can do the Freedom Ending a few times when I'm done. Spawning in little things at Stanley's request- a pad of paper, a set of pens, sticky notes, a stress ball, a desk plant.

Slowly, very slowly- they came to terms with one another. with this place they're stuck in. maybe he does like his voice just a little bit. maybe stanley isn't so boring. Maybe they have actually come to find comfort in one another.

by the ultra deluxe release, Stanley and the Narrator are at a kind of odd friendship- not just a tolerance, no no. The two are close, they *want* to be around each other, they *want* to do this. They want the other to be happy. They still argue and bicker, but it isn't the same. There's no hate behind it, no venom to the words. He's still his stupid, stubborn Stanley, but oh he wouldn't have it any other way. and he's still his over dramatic, temperamental Narrator, just the way he likes him. They begin to notice the shift in dynamic.

he likes his laugh

he likes the way he smiles

he likes how passionate he is

he likes his determination

he likes his voice

he likes *him*.

neither mentions these things of course. why would they? do they need to? they're both perfectly happy with the way things are now, so why change it? They'll continue to co-exist, to try and keep things interesting for the other. that's all they can do, keep the wheel turning. but that's ok because at least they're still stuck together.

So yeah. I think they're on pretty good terms :))

[2fox2furious]

A Glitch in the System: Part 2

They walked for what could've been anywhere between an hour to a few days. Stanley's legs ached and he was exhausted, and yet everything seemed odd wherever they were. He didn't need to eat, to sleep even. Time passed but nothing changed. Even the sun took its sweet sweet time in setting, taunting him from its spot way up in the blue sky. It should've been nighttime by then with the amount of time they spent walking.

Or maybe it really was no time at all, just minutes that dragged on and on. Who was he to say. Each time The Narrator stopped to check...whatever it was he kept checking, an uncomfortable silence followed. He was so used to the constant noise of narration flowing through his head that going without it felt lonely. So, instead, he focused on the ache in his legs, the heaviness of his chest, all of the things that proved to him he was still alive. This wasn't all just some bad dream if he could pinch himself and feel the prick of pain that followed.

Stanley's wandering thoughts were brought to a standstill as The Narrator exclaimed, "Yes, there, right up ahead! Do you see that, Stanley?"

And sure enough, he did. In the distance was a small log cabin. Granted, they were far away, but it didn't seem run down in the slightest. The wood wasn't rotted or crumbling. The roof seemed fully intact. Ivy grew up the side of one of the walls, yes, but in such a precise way it felt like a purposeful choice on the part of the builder.

Stanley gestured with his head towards it, before breaking into a run, headed in that direction. From behind him he could hear The Narrator shout, "Stanley, dear boy, please wait up!"

He hesitated, but didn't stop running. The house looked so real, and it was right there, but he couldn't help but worry. That it wasn't real, it was just another trick. He'd experienced too many of those for a lifetime.

But the house was still there when he finally reached it. The logs were solid under his hands as he pressed his palms to them, feeling the grain press into his skin. It was so different from the office and its smooth walls and artificial lighting. Stanley felt a prick as he drew his hand back, taking along a splinter with it. He couldn't help but smile as he dug it out of his palm.

"You can't just run off like that, Stanley," The Narrator huffed, coming up behind him. "I still need to get used to having a physical form you know. It's quite taxing, I don't know how you live like this."

Stanley rolled his eyes, before gesturing to the cabin with his head. The Narrator sighed. "Yes, yes, the house is exciting, I know. Let's go inside then, shall we?"

Approaching the door, Stanley pushed down on the doorknob, expecting resistance of some sort. But to his surprise it swung open easily, spraying a thin layer of dust down on them both.

Despite being a random cabin in the middle of the forest with no other sign of human life to be found, it was surprisingly well furnished. It looked...like a normal house. It had a couch, a kitchen, a dining table, and doors leading into other various rooms. There were even potted plants, still alive and thriving. Lots of ferns, Stanley knew that would delight The Narrator at least.

"Hmm," The Narrator mused, picking up a yellow vase from off the fireplace mantel. "This place is...familiar. Why does it feel familiar. Stanley, have you been here before?"

Stanley shook his head, opening the door that led to a bedroom. It was a few minutes before he heard The Narrator exclaim, "Oh, yes, I remember now!" He burst into the room, smiling broadly. "Stanley, this house was another scrapped idea of mine, just like this form of mine." He closed his eyes. "Yes, it's all coming back to me now...this was part of an old story, a different, branching path from the mind control facility."

Stanley held up a hand, before digging through the drawer of the wooden desk in that room, looking for anything he could write on. He eventually came across an old notebook and a dull pencil, but it would work well enough for that moment.

[Why'd you scrap it then?]

The Narrator shook his head. "Too many bugs. I just couldn't get it to run smoothly." He sat down on the swivelling desk chair, eyebrows creased in concentration. "Stanley, I wonder if other scrapped ideas are here. There have been quite a lot of them...it's a very tricky job I do for you, you know."

Stanley snorted, crumpling up the piece of paper he'd written on to throw at him. The Narrator batted it away, continuing his train of thought. "There might be something of use to us out there, Stanley! I can get out of this limiting form, and you can go back."

[Back?]

"Well, I can't imagine you'd want to return to the parable with me." He laughed slightly, but it didn't seem like it was out of amusement. There was something bitter there that Stanley couldn't place. "No, you probably came from somewhere before that. I wouldn't know of course, I only deal with what goes on within the parable itself, but wouldn't it be nice to go back if you had the chance?"

Stanley shrugged. [Eh.]

"Eh? This is your freedom we're talking about, dear boy, why aren't you more excited about this?"

[I don't really want to go back.]

"What?" The Narrator jumped up from his seat. "Stanley, there's so much more to life than this little place. What about your friends? Your family?"

[Don't really have any.] Stanley swooped in and stole The Narrator's spot, propping his feet up on the desk. [Plus, I thought you said no one would want to commit their life to me. What happened to that, huh?]

"Ah, you remember that huh," The Narrator mumbled under his breath, fiddling with his tie. "Yes, well, I suppose I've gotten to know you better then."

[Well, it's true.] Stanley spun himself in a circle. [I've got nothing to go back to really.] He thought about adding the fact that the only person he really interacted with, who he enjoyed interacting with, was in the parable too.

No, The Narrator didn't need to know that. It would only be more of an ego boost after all.

The Narrator was silent for a moment. "I still think it'll be a good idea to look around. If you don't...if you don't want to go back to your life, the least we can do is go back to the parable. I loathe to think about what could happen to us if we stay here."

Stanley yawned, stretching, as he rolled the chair over to the bed. [Okay, okay. Let's do that tomorrow though, I want to sleep first.]

"Fine. Yes, that works." He walked back out to the living room, shutting the door quietly behind him. "Have a good rest, Stanley."

Stanley smiled to himself, tucking himself into bed. The blanket was soft as he balled a clump of it in his fist. He'd expected to toss and turn all night, but his expectations were pleasantly squashed.

He did have a good rest. He had the best rest he'd had in a long, long time.

[stanleysbuttonblog]

Stanley awoke in his bed. He couldn’t quite remember how he had gotten there, but judging by the fact that he was tucked in, and that the least thing he remembered was getting stupendously drunk off of some swamp sauce, someone had probably taken him here.

He sat up and looked around his apartment. Nothing seemed to be out of place on his first scan, but Stanley soon realized there was, in fact, something that had not been there last night.

His boyfriend.

The Narrator was sat in his armchair, in a small, sort of hunched position. He idly traced his fingers over a large cookie, and sighed in a way that was both bitter and exhausted.

Stanley got up out of his bed, and the Narrator looked up in surprise.

“Hello.” he said nervously. “I… I’m sorry that I left.”

Stanley nods. [Why did you do that, anyhow?]

“I was frustrated. Lonely. I went out to create.”

[Oh? What’d you make?]

“Nothing.”

Stanley furrowed his brow.

“I created. But everything I made just– it wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough.”

Stanley nods, and moves closer to the Narrator, taking a seat across from him on the couch. He smiled, as reassuringly as he could.

"... really?"

[I do enjoy your narration. And it's about time we talked about… where we are. What's happened.]

The Narrator scowls slightly, and then nods.

"As you know, I submitted you to this competition as something of a publicity stunt. I was quite content with your involvement– I was able to see what was going on– until that deathmatch business got started.

"Right around when you got pulled in to be killed– yes, that match was certainly rigged against you– a food form opened up. 432 submitted himself, and I sent in a loading screen– and then, well, I elected to enter myself. As a kitten. In a teacup.

“But oh, Stanley! I was taken! Imprisoned in a doll house with a girl name Annabeth. And then I was pulled into a sexy man competition! And I lost! It was humiliating. But even worse-- when I returned to the dollhouse, I was pulled out by Xigbar and trapped inside a snowglobe.

“The snowglobe was tortuous, Stanley. It was degrading and demeaning. They treated me like some sort of plaything-- both of them clearly delighting whenever I was harmed. And occasionally Xigbar would  taunt me-- holding me in such a manner that I could see you; but I could not escape.”

“And I... I had to watch you start to degrade, Stanley. I... gods abound, I do wish you hadn't had to have gone through that. I should've... done better. Ha... oh, Stanley, I really am a miserable excuse for a Proctor. I don't deserve to Create at all...”

Stanley sat quietly as the Narrator did as well, and then moved over to hug the fellow. The Narrator quickly began to cry in a sniffling sort of manner.

Stanley hummed in his throat, hardly making a sound, but creating a sensation that was similar to a purr as he pressed his throat against the Narrator's shoulder.

The Narrator heaved a choking sort of sob, as he began to babble an incoherent, rambling string of words.

“Stanley, I... oh, I'm nothing, aren't I? What even are we? Where even is this? Why does it matter? Ough... I don't know, Stanley, but I really, really ought to.”

Stanley rubbed the fellows back in a soothing, circular motion. He moved away just enough to sign;

[I'm glad you're with me. I like what you are.]

The Narrator sniffed.

“I know that.”

[But you want more?]

“Can't I? Can't I want to be appreciated? Can't I want to not be harmed?”

[Of course you can.]

“And you're over here, and you're so much... better than me. At everything.”

Stanley raised a brow.

[I think you'll find me remarkably average in most regards.]

“I mean it, Stanley. I… I need you. I know you don’t need me.”

[But I want you.]

Stanley smiled at his Narrator.

[I’ve… been through a lot. You’ve seen most of it, but… look, I have made friends here.]

“So I’ve been told.”

[Yeah, so… I… I mean, this has also been a reprieve. From the timeloop.]

“...yes, it… has. Hasn’t it.”

[...I want to hold onto this for as long as I can.]

“I– well, of course.”

[...but it’s not… anything without you. If you’re having a fucking breakdown, I want you to talk to me. You idiot.]

The Narrator nodded, and the two of them sat in a comfortable sort of silence.

"Where do we go from here?" the Narrator asked softly.

[We stick together. Like we always have.  And… we do our best to make this last.]

"It can't last, though, you–"

[I know.]

"They'd never let us leave, Stanley. We might already be pushing it."

[Then we'll cross that bridge when we get there. It's… out of our hands.]

"...you know I hate when that happens."

[Yeah.]

"You are insufferable sometimes." the Narrator said, with a loving sigh.

Stanley grinned, as the Narrator leaned in to kiss him.

His lips were soft and it felt good. Gods above, Stanley had missed this. He held the Narrator to him for just a bit too long, and then broke away reluctantly, and raised a eyebrow in question.

"Well, of course." the Narrator said, smirking. "I'm feeling… much better now. Now that I'm with you."

Stanley nodded, and the two of them headed to his bed, eagerly moving to be closer to each other as the Narrator dimmed the lights and put up a slight amount of soundproofing force over their room.

Fuck, Stanley had missed this.

...I think we're all alright now.

[narratoractually]

Narrator and Stanley sitting on a tree~

K-I-S-S-I-N-G~

I legitimately do not know how to respond to this. Except- isn’t it usually in a tree?

If you are going to try to taunt me, it might be a good idea to actually-

[…?!]

Uhhhh

STANLEY it is so good to see you again

I suppose you had enough of the hole?

[…!]

Oh this… don’t mind this. This anonymous user is just being silly.

-Narrator🎙

[aftcrpast]

"I'll never smile again, until I smile with you..."

Muffled footsteps against carpet, it's not often he feels like this, there is something off and he still can’t quite place his tongue on what it is. This place isn’t the office that he’s so used to, the same claw marks Austin had left to remind him there, Tanner’s makeshift door is not there this rotation, and Stanley.. It’s not Stanley, it’s the original copy, the one that wasn’t his Stanley, that’s not his player either.

The lack of the energy provided by Anaguragurashi, the paranoia and loudness of Virgo, and the seething anger from Usseewa. God how he hated it, this was making him nervous especially because, that wasn’t him speaking, but he felt his voice talking to him like if he was the player character. But it wasn’t another narrator no, they would at least change his name, currently though, he was “Stanley”

It’s not like he hasn’t ran his own stories, no, but at least he tells them from a perspective of his own, it’s odd to hear his voice echoing back inside his head with the words he’s told his storytellees many times before. Perhaps if he looks up he’ll see that misplaced tile where Tanner first respawned, or the cracked terminal where Austin first showed himself.

“What is wrong, Evermore? Do you not like your own story? Perhaps you are already bored of it..”

And it’s clear that he’s caught off guard, judging from how fast his head jerks upward and he turns in the direction of the voice, he hadn’t even noticed he was already at the Boss’ Office, but the figure standing behind the office chair was certainly a familiar one. The many winged beauty that is Oh She Lady Of All. Her voice echoed through his thoughts, taunting him.

He can’t speak, his voice fails him as he opens his mouth. Only a quiet excuse of a voice tries to come out, his words aren’t forming himself, for once in his life he cannot find words, words that he’s usually so passionate about speaking out. 

“If there’s anything wrong darling, you can just rewrite you know, perhaps reset as you usually do when something goes wrong? You could also try writing a new story, something that doesn’t take place in this humid office, it gets boring. Why not a stroll in the forest? Or perhaps a stranded island”

“I do not need your commentary Japhet, I can create my own stories thank you.”

He scoffs out without a thought, the friendly facade fades from Lady of All’s movement, her wings expanding as her face turns to a serious expression. She takes a quiet breath and looks down at the narrator before her.

“Framtid. You do know who is keeping you stable right, I don’t even understand why you’d rather keep your humanity, your stories would be bett- Perhaps you wouldn’t even make stories at all and actually do something worth everyone’s time.”

Framtid gasps, the change in emotion showing as his void suddenly flows more strongly than before. Let go of his humanity? The only reason that he’s still- That he still has a name to call his own, the only reason why he can even have a passion. And her, and she just, she just said that to him so nonchalantly, like she does it every day. Is this why Forbi fell to madness, to power? Is she trying to make him end up like it?

No she couldn’t be, she might’ve not meant it, she’s always been so kind to him and perhaps he’s just overthinking it. But he heard it, heard it with his own ears, the thoughts were processed by his own brain, “Actually do something worth everyone’s time.”

“You do know that you can’t keep anything from me right. I meant it, your stories really aren’t the big thing, even Past’s stories are considerably better. For the future, you truly know very little.”

And again, no witty comeback from the narrator, just a quiet sound, more of a cry of sorts. He wants to get out of here and he’ll find a way out of here. He can feel the way that his hands shake, the way his muscles tense up telling him to go, to get out. But he’s frozen, he can’t move.

“You can’t run. Not with that little situation you’ve got anyway. Perhaps if you can find a way out of this place, I may not abandon you to the void.”

Abandon him to the void..? So she really.. God damn it he has to stop thinking about stupid things like that, of course she didn’t care about him nor his stories she just straight up insulted them. If finding a way out of here is what he needs to do then find a way out of here he will. He raises his gaze up to meet Japhet’s eyes, or where they should be at least, and looks higher.

A little thing that nobody pays any mind to, it’s just where they placed a light source behind after all. The window in the Boss’ Office. His hair isn’t flowing on its side ways flow this time, resting on his shoulders gently. And the arrows that color in the shine of his eyes are pointing forward, making them just a line. 

With that he runs, he jumps onto the boss’ desk, sparing a quick thought for the man Sorry Classified.. Knowing that in spirit he’ll know about that. And then jumping from there to the window, using the chair as a boost, jumping right above Japhet, her many wings none tried to stop him. The crash against the glass was harsh as he collided with it, it was cold and the office instantly went dark, the should be white out of bounds having turned pitch black.

“You’ll be back, you always are.”

Was the last thing he heard from there before he fell. He was falling, he felt the need to scream but of course, nothing came out. It was cold, he hadn’t fallen into the void in so long, its water-like feel enveloping his whole body without hesitation. Despite all the thoughts in his head, there was one that stood out, Austin, Tanner, Stanley, their players, he’ll get them back he knows he can. But on the off chance that he fails, well…

“...I’m sorry”

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

I been playing The Stanley Parable (I know it came out in 2013 but it's still good-)

And I love how throughout the game the narrator(s) and the game in general make it clear that you're dying and you don't have any choices. But they're wrong?

They say we're wasting our lives sitting here but they don't have a life. This is their life.

They say no one's going to remember us when were gone. But we're not the ones who aren't meant to be remembered. They're the fleeting memory that we consider for a moment and move on from without a second thought.

They say we don't have any choices because every path we go down is planned for us but uh..we chose to play the game. Meanwhile look at the narrator(s). This id it for them. This is their entire existence because they aren't real. They're a program meaning if anyone's here without choice it's them.

I've seen a lot of analysis for this game but most of it ignores the blatant hypocrisy of this character but the more I play the game the more I see it. There's an ending in which he finds out he doesn't have any choice but to restart the game and he d o e s. At one point the character mocks Stanley for making up the story at his desk to cope with the lack of choice in his life. But in game wasn't the narrator the creator of the story?

Throughout the entire story we do have a choice though, unlike the p r o g r a m m e d narrator. I mean we can leave or restart whenever we want so having the ability to leave makes staying our own choice in the first place, more than I can say for the narrator. Within the game we also choose which route we go down, which again, is more freedom than the narrator has.

I just think that when we analyze the games morals we have to consider the fact that in the end we are the one with free will and the narrator isn't. Honestly part of me thinks that's part of the message of the game. The irony in a programmed character telling a real person anything about free will and what to do with their life when the character doesn't h a v e any life or any choices of their own. The fact that the character tries so hard to one up and trap and trick the player? The fact that he's so convinced the player is irrelevant and just a fleeting unimportant existence when this is a game and the narrator is the one, if anybody is, who's just a fleeting moment. I mean just look at The Mariella Ending! He goes out of his way to go "look u died and she only thought about you for like half a second then moved on cause she's alive and u aren't" he's completely ignoring the fact that what Mariella did in this ending is what every player is going to do with the narrator. Consider him and his existence before moving on because they're alive and he's not, when it comes down to it.

Some people act as if the narrator separates the character of Stanley from the player themselves. But the thing is, he doesn't. He uses the insignificance of Stanley's life to taunt the player as if they were one in the same. He adresses you as Stanley constantly instead of as the player. He acts as if your life and Stanley's life is one in the same. Occasionally he'll address the fact that there is a human player but he just doesn't seem to grasp what that means.

There's only one character in the game who really acknowledges that WE are not STANLEY. The female narrator. She talks directly to the player and she seems to agree that the characters are both deeply pathetic. We already know in all the ways Stanley is sad and pathetic. The male narrator makes that very clear. But what about him? What's to be said about the male narrator? Well uh..I think the female narrator makes some good points. She says "It would be just a few moments before Stanley would restart, back in the office, as alive as ever" because...yeah. Exactly. The narrator tries to act as if every death is a failure and completely ignores the fact that it's not. The fact that the game restarts and that we're not failing by getting an ending in which the narrator punishes Stanley because we aren't Stanley.

'But op', you may be thinking, 'she criticizes the player too!' With lines such as "Stanlry was dead from the moment he hit start" and "death becomes meaningless, making life the same" but the thing is..we know she can differentiate between Stanley and us, the player. She talks directly to us in lines like "Can you see? Can you see how much they need each other?", "Oh look at these two.", and "You can still save these two." So when she talks about Stanley in the context of those lines about him being dead and everything being planned out, I believe she's still mocking the male narrator. She calls Stanley's life meaningless because the death's are too. That's because it's a game. A work of fiction with no effect on the player beyond making them think. She isn't saying OUR life in meaningless she's saying HIS life, the game, is meaningless in the long run and I believe she's saying this to the narrator because she resents his will to hurt Stanley because it doesn't accomplish anything. Because Stanley was never alive and the person who is alive can't be hurt through Stanley so what's the point? I mean this is glaringly obvious, especially when you consider one of her lines in the original Half Life 2 mod. "It's a shame, then. That for all his work, it was such a meaningless victory to the narrator. Did he really think he woild accomplish anything by murdering this disposable vessel?".

So if in the end nothing the narrator says, with him being a hypocrite lacking self awareness, can be trusted as the moral of the game...then what is?

Well, let's take parts of the female narrators speech. "Oh look at these two. How they wish to destroy one another, how they wish to control one another, how they both wish to be free" and "Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another?" I believe that the message lies in what Stanley and the male narrator represent. The struggle between two forces that need to work together. Because both characters are tragic and helpless and idiotic and their struggle is both counter productive and in the end absolutely meaningless. I haven't technically figured out just what the two are meant to represent. Maybe nothing in particular but the general concept of complimenting forces that need each other being at odds. Maybe it's up for interpretation just what those two forces represent. But I think that's the overarching message, not anything the narrator says in his meaningless, doomed to fail quest. Especially not anything in the actual storyline we're walked through.

But uhh..if anyone else has thoughts..lemme hear em.