#like is a dark show overall but the ending message is so optimistic and uplifting

[liathgray]

Okay okay okay first off, i want to say i am LOVING your blackwell springs fic, can’t wait for the next update, but i was rewatching fmab as one does during a pandemic, and a Thought just occured to me - Roy wasn’t the only person who knew Ed commited the sin at the beginning of the series. Bradley probably knew right from the moment he met Ed he commited human transmutation,. Because Father was looking for people who opened the gate, right, since he didn’t get that shut together until literally the day of. Like he had Hohenheim probably, and canidates who could open up the gate but nothing solid, so Bradely was probably looking for alchemists that opened them as well, right? And a sign of people opening the gate is clapping transmutation. And Edward did that right in front of Bradely. So he probably knew right there that Edward committed human transmutation because he saw the gate and could use clapping transmutation and said nothing because he was a sacrifice, I don’t know if anyone has pointed it out befor because i came into the fandom really late and I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this but thank you for coming to my TED Talk

YES ABSOLUTELY! And I think it’s worth noting that this is by design.

This wasn’t oversight on the writing or the characters this was intentional. To me it was, anyways. Because thats the whole... point.

The homunculus don’t see value in humans—not in their intelligence, their agency, their unpredictability, their ingenuity, their strength, their unity, their stubbornness, their overwhelming compassion—none of that matters to the villains.

They can’t even go down the mind trail of “heeey what if this kid causes too many problems or somehow stops us?” Cause that just never crossed their mind.

The reason Bradley didn’t just pluck Ed and Al out of the alchemy exam and lock them in a cell until the promised day is because they constantly undervalue and underestimate humans and !! And thats such a cool detail!!

Like. It happens everywhere. They didn’t snatch up their candidates or official sacrifices because they didn’t even consider... maybe they could come together and ruin all this.

They let Izumi, Whorehenheim, Ed and Al just fuck around for YEARS and that negligence, that lack of value in humans killed them.

Hubris. Killed. A. God.

At the hands. Of a child.

Who they could have stopped.

Oh, sweet sweet irony.

[irandrura]

More detailed, spoiler-full thoughts on Xenoblade Chronicles 2:

One of the things that always fascinates me, when I compare JRPGs and WRPGs, is the sorts of conflicts they’re interested in, or the sorts of questions they ask. XC2 is yet another example of a JRPG that asks a question that simply never seems to arise in Western games. That question is: is there an ethical basis for the world’s existence? Is there a justification for the world continuing to be? Is existence, being, even a good thing at all?

XC2 is fascinated by this question, and even by the more narrow questions of “is it a good thing for humans to exist?” or “is it a good thing for people in general to exist?” It takes these questions very seriously, to the extent that characters who firmly conclude “no” are treated as sympathetic antagonists, rather than madmen.

Western games only rarely raise similar questions. Every now and then you get a madman in Fallout who thinks humanity is a scourge and should be replaced by some other race, or the likes of Archaon in Warhammer, who seeks to destroy the world because the gods demand it – but these characters are generally not treated sympathetically, and very little time is spent refuting them. Of course you stop the guy who wants to destroy the human race. What, you need a reason? Here’s one: you’re human, so are people you care about, end of story. There’s not much to engage with there. In the likes of Skyrim, when Arngeir suggests that maybe the right thing to do is to allow the world to be destroyed, the player’s response is incredibly perfunctory. “I like the world. All my stuff is here.” What more could you possibly need?

But justifying existence seems like a more central question to JRPGs. Not only XC2, but if I think back to, say, Final Fantasy X, or Final Fantasy VII, or Final Fantasy VI, or, well, half the games in that entire series, a frankly bizarre amount of time is spent arguing with nihilists who believe that the world and/or the human race should be destroyed, because... um, suffering exists, or the world is meaningless, or people are awful, take your pick.

My usual approach is to just attribute these differences to religion. The West is deeply influenced by the Abrahamic tradition, in which God creates the world and pronounces it good. There can be no real question of whether existence is good or not. To even ask the question is blasphemy. This instinct now seems so deeply-rooted that even atheists, who outwardly reject all religion, just take it as read that existence is a good thing. By contrast, Japan still has a historical Buddhist influence, and Buddhism is much more skeptical of the value of being. If you could destroy samsara... would you? Is the goal of the spiritual life to escape, to obtain release from the shackles of the world? The Buddhist tradition contains significantly greater ambivalence towards the world.

In XC2’s case, I think it’s a little more complicated, because XC2, like XC1, is heavily influenced by Gnosticism. I am far from the first person to suggest a similarity between Christian Gnosticism and Buddhism, of course, but here I think the Christian imagery comes to the fore. Klaus is a demiourgos, the Architect of this world, standing in the place of God despite not being truly divine himself. This flawed creator goes on to let loose his own trinity – Ontos, Logos, and Pneuma; Being, Word, and Spirit – but nonetheless is full of regret, unsure as to the value of the world he has tried to build. God himself is not visible; only this broken man trying to fill in for God. Even he is not convinced of the world’s goodness!

(And while we’re on the topic of Christian imagery, yes, I know, Pyra and Mythra’s core crystal is cross-shaped, and Pyra is symbolically crucified like four times in the plot, it’s not subtle.)

But to step away from religion for a moment and look back at specific characters...

  What drives most of the central characters of XC2 is, initially at least, the desire to cease. Amalthus believes that the world is nothing but a vale of tears, and regards the world with little but hate and disgust. Malos is corrupted by Amalthus’ hate and believes that justice requires the world be destroyed. Jin is driven mad by the cruelty of the world, comes to hate the Architect and seek to destroy him. Even Pyra, our ostensible heroine, wants to reach Elysium in order to beg the Architect for permission to commit suicide and cease to be.

As such, the heart of the story of XC2 is responding to all this with, “No! Life is worth living!”

It seems like such a banal message. If anything, it’s doubly so because the game’s protagonist, Rex, is the most relentlessly optimistic and upbeat person in the world. Rex is the sort of person who’ll respond to all the above with an innocent, “Well, that’s how life is, you know? You’ve gotta take the good with the bad.” He has no darkness in him at all. Even Shulk, who was a total sweetie-pie, was willing to go on a quest to flat-out kill someone for revenge. Rex is truly a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. Heck, one of his lines in battle is a completely unironic “We’ll beat them with the power of friendship!”

That’s one of the odd things, for me. Rex himself does not struggle with inner darkness, or with anything I’d recognise as suicidal tendencies or depression. He searches for an answer to justify the world to Malos, but ultimately doesn’t come up with anything more coherent than, “There are wonderful, valuable things in this world, and I believe people can change, and I know that you once believed that too!” This isn’t a story where Rex finds a substantive answer to the question, or one that would satisfy a philosopher. Rather, he ‘solves’ the puzzle through sheer force of will. He ends up convincing the Architect that the world has merit not through anything he says, but through what he does – through his selfless optimism and belief in other people.

Just as Amalthus and Jin concluded the world needs to die not because of philosophy, but because of traumatic personal experience, Rex concludes the world needs to live because of positive, uplifting personal experience. The answer to the dark impulse that would destroy the world is to point to positive relationships within it, even in the lives of the people trying to destroy it: Mikhail and Patroka, or even Jin and Malos, have genuine friendships. (The moment where Malos stops to hug Jin, even as he heads off to destroy the world, is surprisingly touching.)

On one level this really works. It fits surprisingly well with the overall Christian themes: the answer to “why should the world exist?” is “loving relationships”. Pyra’s answer, in fact, is “I love this world because you’re in it.”

On another level, it feels a touch disappointing, if only because it means the climax of the game is just a reiteration of what the player’s been hearing for the past fifty hours: yes, love and friendship and bonds are good things!

Where Xenoblade 2 works, I think for me, is where the specifics of the relationships feel powerful enough to make those clichés feel fresh. The game’s world sets up a number of reasons to despair (the world is slowly dying, the titans are dying, people are warring over the declining and limited resources, etc.) and then sets up a lot of obstacles to relationship (the Blades, immortal, but having their memories wiped every time their closest friends die, feel quite tragic), and then shows love and friendship perpetually overcoming them. The game’s strongest moments are those where, at a point of despair, somehow love saves the day again. Chapter seven stands out here: both the moment where Nia reveals her true identity, and where Rex practically raises Pyra from the dead by standing over her body and talking about how much he believes in her. Naturally, then, the game ends on the emotional high of the entire playable cast flying off into the sunset, looking fond of each other, Pyra and Mythra’s miraculous return, and the closing line: And thus, boy met girl. Like any good love story, it works only if you buy into the characters’ emotions.

 Xenoblade Chronicles 2, summarised: “Should you commit suicide? No, because love.”

Now that said, two other random observations:

In the first Xenoblade, I really disliked the Klaus twist at the end. It felt like it came out of nowhere, required a large exposition dump, and didn’t add much to the plot. For me, the first Xenoblade felt pretty much entirely downhill after the defeat of Metal Face. Xenoblade 2 still has more-or-less the same backstory with Klaus, but here I thought it was contextualised much better and was more effective. The revelation that the Architect is the torn remains of an ancient scientist, trying to rebuild the world from scraps but now half-given up on the whole project as a waste, feels like it fits much better with the world that we explored.

Xenoblade 2’s world always felt somewhat artificial, and from the very start of the game it was evident that there was a previous world before this one. There’s something beneath the Cloud Sea, and whatever it might be, it was evidently once technologically advanced. Making Rex a salvager was a good move to emphasise that, and the way that so much of the world’s economy depends on salvaging the ruins beneath the sea reinforces the sense of the world as being in decay. The Architect is mentioned at the start of the game, so you know that the world was made or at least modified by someone for an unclear purpose, and the World Tree is mysterious enough. So when later in the game you do go below the Cloud Sea and discover the remains of ancient cities, and then find that within the World Tree is an advanced scientific installation, it doesn’t feel like it came out of nowhere. Indeed, the final revelation – that ages ago a scientist accidentally destroyed the world in an experiment, and this is his imperfect attempt to fix it – feels both like a genuine discovery, but also something that, well, makes sense. Of course it was that. Of course! That explains so much about why Alrest is the way it is.

  The second observation is... okay, so, XC1 and XC2 are in continuity, that’s all good. How does XCX fit in, if it does at all? I was a bit disappointed when Klaus’ flashback mentioned ‘Saviorites’ attacking the experimental station. Who are they? I wanted to assume that Klaus’ experiment was some sort of cutting-edge secret research immediately before the Ganglion attacked at the start of XCX. That way the aliens attack and start to destroy the Earth, in a panic Klaus tries to accelerate his experiment, hoping he can use the power of the Conduit to save the world, he screws up and ends up splitting the Earth off into two parallel dimensions, creating the worlds of XC1 and XC2, and meanwhile the survivors of Earth in the home dimension escape on their Ark Ships and go and do XCX. That would fit all three games together pretty elegantly, and Conduit-related weirdness might also help explain what the heck is up with Mira in XCX.

But there doesn’t seem to have been any room left for that, so I guess XCX is a completely different continuity? That just... also contains Nopon, who for some reason have heard of Shulk and the Monado? Who knows?