My guess about the nature of Dust's true identity was in the ballpark, but the real answer turned out to be so weird that I'm going to forgive myself for not seeing it coming. I thought that he would turn out to be Cassius, the assassin, somehow brainwashed with magic to remove all his evil memories and become redeemed by fighting against his former allies. What actually happened is that Cassius was killed and his dead body was reanimated with not one, but two bound souls those of Cassius and his final victim, Jin. This composite being became Dust. The sorcerer who made him wanted a champion with Cassius's deadliness and Jin's compassion. The reason that he had no memories is that he was born just before the start of the game.
I'm not sure how I feel about this twist. On the one hand, it avoids the cliche (while still being close enough that the narrative has almost all of the expected beats, even right up to the end). On the other hand, thematically it has less of an impact. Dust's actions don't represent Cassius coming to terms with and repudiating his wicked deeds (and it's impossible to say what they represent about Jin because that character was only introduced in the game's last hour). Nor is there any sort of arc about the meaning of redemption or the nature of forgiveness. Dust is a hero because that's what he's always been. That was what he was created to be.
And yet, the villain thinks Dust is Cassius come back from the dead. Even up to the final battle, he acts as if he's talking to his old friend. That's probably the weirdest part of the game. General Gaius is a ruthless genocidal maniac, dedicated to purging the Moonblood race from the face of the earth, but his primary motivation when dealing with the hero is sentimentality. He's always talking about his friend, Cassius, and it is clear from the vocal performance that he's genuinely concerned. He loves this sociopathic assassin and is thrilled by the possibility that he's come back from the dead. When they meet and it appears that Cassius has been brainwashed by his enemies, Gaius does everything in his power to reach out to him and remind him of their shared bond.
It is note for note the exact same story you'd get if he were a kindly, heroic general and he were talking to a previously virtuous knight who had been corrupted by necromancy. It was bizarre, but I kind of liked it.
I'm sure I've pointed out in the past that the main problem with video game evil (and, indeed, evil in a lot of fiction, generally) is that too often villains' only interest is committing evil. They might have a sympathetic backstory, like maybe they're murdering every elf they can because an elf once killed their brother or something, but even so, they rarely have interests or relationships outside their terrible villainous urge. A Sith falls to the dark side and then can be manipulated into attacking their friends and siding with the enemy they've been fighting the whole time. Or a Machiavellian vizier is always thinking about his various schemes and never about, say, gardening.
It's understandable from a creative standpoint - you want to be economical with your narrative, not waste a lot of time establishing that the serial killer also loves his pet cat, unless you're trying to be deliberately ironic with the juxtaposition, but it does make villains seem one-dimensional at times. Which is why Gaius is so startling. As near as I can tell, there is no irony in his concern. He doesn't want Cassius back as an unstoppable weapon. He doesn't fondly reminisce over all the various genocidal atrocities they used to commit together. He just sounds vaguely worried, and at times hopeful, over the rumors that his friend might still be alive.
It's like he's perfectly compartmentalized his life. He has a job to do - hunting down and slaughtering every member of a targeted race - which he does with ruthless efficiency, and then he also has his personal life, where he's a caring, patient man who is willing to extend near-limitless compassion to the people important to him. I'm not sure how realistic that is (though I suspect that it's depressingly so) and I'm not sure if the game is trying to make a philosophical point, but I can tell you that it's not very effective. You hear a lot about General Gaius's terrible deeds from his victims, but whenever you see him, he's just kind of this hapless guy. In the end, he extends you a great deal more reasonableness than you entirely deserve (from his perspective, obviously). His eventual death feels less like a triumph than just another random thing that happens.
Overall, the story was serviceable. I'll probably skip over it when I play the game again on hard mode, but I didn't feel like it was an imposition my first time through. Besides, I've only got four hours to go, so I'll have to stop partway through either way. This next attempt will be purely for the challenge.
No comments:
Post a Comment