In my ongoing and likely futile effort to write a review for every game in my Steam library (#506 out of 1000+)... it's time for Nier Automata.


Nier Automata blends the highly-polished third-person action combat we've come to expect from Platinum Games with the bizarre, very niche and sometimes controversial storytelling and direction of Yoko Taro. He is, perhaps, the most idiosyncratic games auteur this side of Hideo Kohima. You likely already knew that: in the years since release, Nier Automata became something of a surprise hit, resonating with a broad swath of players the world over. It may not quite have broken into the nebulous realm of the mainstream (I suspect such a feat will prove impossible for any Yoko Taro game), but it's come astonishingly close. With this explosion of popularity has come a great deal of discourse, leaving precious little left for someone like me to talk about here. So keeping in mind just how much has already been said of the game, I'd like to use this opportunity to delve into some of the aspects of Nier Automata that, in my experience, are not as often discussed.

But first, briefly, let's go over what you already know. Nier Automata is a slick, stylish post-apocalyptice action RPG that miraculously manages to combine bullet hell-style shooting with fast-paced melee combat and light platforming in a small but evocative open world. Crafted with a quirky, though sometimes opaque, sense of humor, a keen knack for surrealism, and a deep fascination with existentialism and nihilism, Automata depicts one of the most fascinating, striking and unforgettable worlds in the history of the medium. There also also many different, elaborate endings for players to discover as they venture through Automata's mysterious, broken world, learning more about both it and the many odd characters who dwell within it.

That's all true, but it's also nonsense. Here's what you may not know.

There aren't really any multiple endings – that was a boldfaced lie. Oh, the credits roll, many times, but there's really just the one ending. What's the deal? Yoko Taro being Yoko Taro, Automata is structured very weirdly. Basically: the narrative is composed of two acts separated by a time skip, much like the original Nier. You'll see "Ending A" at the halfway point, after which you must then play through the first act again, from the perspective of another character -- which plays out almost identically, to many players' great frustration, culminating in "Ending B." At this point I must note that the first act of the game is not terribly compelling or engaging and you'll very likely be tempted to stop playing each time the credits roll. But please don't. Once you've played through the lesser half of the game (twice) you get access to the second act, or final half of the game. And this is where the story gets substantially more interesting. At the end of act 2 you'll be presented with a choice that will lead into "Ending C" or "Ending D," and unlock a chapter-selection menu. Replay the last part of act 2 again, but make the other choice, and you'll see the other side of the game's ending plus an extended "true ending" which is, you guessed it, "Ending E." That's it. The game may proudly insists that there are 21 other endings, but they're really just nonstandard game-over screens, consisting of no more than a fade-to-black and a single line of (sometimes humorous, sometimes not) text -- usually as a consequence of turning right when you were supposed to turn left.

The other thing to know about Nier Automata is that the storytelling is pretty lacking. If you launch the game expecting a sophisticated script, compelling characters, an engaging plot, or even a coherent setting... you will[i/] be disappointed. To an even greater extent than other Yoko Taro games, Automata relies very heavily on subtext, implication and deliberate contradiction to evoke players' emotions and consideration. This is a narrative less about telling a specific story than establishing a(n often hauntingly beautiful) mood. What you get out of Automata's story will depend very much on what you put in -- read between the lines, so to speak, and you may well laugh and weep with these character. Don't, and you'll idly wonder what all the fuss is about.

In some ways this is a failing of the game: unlike its predecessor, Nier Automata does not bother to put in the legwork to make a more casual consumption of the narrative especially rewarding. As a conventinoal narrative, Automata is startlingly threadbare: there's precious little dialog, and even less exposition. Going out of your way to complete side-quests and obsessively reading through in-game lore texts will do little to imbue the story with any real sense of coherence. This isn't a story where what the characters think, feel or do matters: it's a story where what the player thinks, feels and does matters. It's a kind of dreamlike story, relishing in unreasoning chaos and compulsion -- something that would only ever be possible in the games medium. This approach to storytelling is easily Automata's greatest weakness, as well as its greatest strength.

That's all also nonsense. It's also true, too. That's part of the paradox of Nier: it's both more and less than you'd expect. Simultaneously deep and shallow; superficial and complex; dull and engaging; gorgeous and ugly; sophisticated and simplistic; reductive and nuanced; thought-provoking and irredeemably horny.

Key to Automata's tone is perspective: the characters whose actions you control on-screen are deeply ignorant of the world around them, and often incurious, and the game makes little effort to enlighten them; in perhaps Yoko Taro's signature move, there is also a clear distinction between the characters on-screen and the player -- we do not know these people. What they think, what they feel, where they've been, where they hope to go -- that's theirs, not ours. We merely accompany them on their journey. By upholding these boundaries, Automata constructs a strikingly believable world, despite the absurdities contained therein. We run through the game as ignorant of Automata's post-apocalyptic world as we often are of our own, mid-apocalyptic world; like our own friends, we know of these characters no more than what they allow us to know -- and often less than that. This is the foundation of Automata's profundity, I think: the deliberate withholding of information, both crucial and inconsequential. This narrative reticence prevents players from asserting any sort of sense of ownership over the game world, as we typically do in other spaces; it forces us to respect Automata's world, in all of its alien and grotesque beauty, for much the same reason taht we must respect our own world -- it is something too big and too great to ever be fully knowable.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▱

★★★ CLASSIC ★★★

Note: also played on Sony PlayStation 4.

[i]In my ongoing and likely futile effort to write a review for every game in my Steam library [/i](#506 out of 1000+)[i]... it's time for[/i] [b]Nier Automata.[/b] [h2]┛A Wild, Contradictory Masterpiece┏[/h2] [i]Nier Automata[/i] blends the highly-polished third-person action combat we've come to expect from Platinum Games with the bizarre, very niche and sometimes controversial storytelling and direction of Yoko Taro. He is, perhaps, the most idiosyncratic games auteur this side of Hideo Kohima. You likely already knew that: in the years since release, [i]Nier Automata[/i] became something of a surprise hit, resonating with a broad swath of players the world over. It may not quite have broken into the nebulous realm of the mainstream (I suspect such a feat will prove impossible for any Yoko Taro game), but it's come astonishingly close. With this explosion of popularity has come a great deal of [i]discourse,[/i] leaving precious little left for someone like me to talk about here. So keeping in mind just how much has already been said of the game, I'd like to use this opportunity to delve into some of the aspects of [i]Nier Automata[/i] that, in my experience, are not as often discussed. But first, briefly, let's go over what you already know. [i]Nier Automata[/i] is a slick, stylish post-apocalyptice action RPG that miraculously manages to combine bullet hell-style shooting with fast-paced melee combat and light platforming in a small but evocative open world. Crafted with a quirky, though sometimes opaque, sense of humor, a keen knack for surrealism, and a deep fascination with existentialism and nihilism, [i]Automata[/i] depicts one of the most fascinating, striking and unforgettable worlds in the history of the medium. There also also many different, elaborate endings for players to discover as they venture through [i]Automata's[/i] mysterious, broken world, learning more about both it and the many odd characters who dwell within it. That's all true, but it's also nonsense. Here's what you may not know. There aren't really any multiple endings – that was a boldfaced lie. Oh, the credits roll, many times, but there's really just the one ending. What's the deal? Yoko Taro being Yoko Taro, [i]Automata[/i] is structured very weirdly. Basically: the narrative is composed of two acts separated by a time skip, much like the original [i]Nier[/i]. You'll see "Ending A" at the halfway point, after which you must then play through the first act again, from the perspective of another character -- which plays out almost identically, to many players' great frustration, culminating in "Ending B." At this point I must note that the first act of the game is not terribly compelling or engaging and you'll very likely be tempted to stop playing each time the credits roll. But please don't. Once you've played through the lesser half of the game (twice) you get access to the second act, or final half of the game. And this is where the story gets substantially more interesting. At the end of act 2 you'll be presented with a choice that will lead into "Ending C" or "Ending D," and unlock a chapter-selection menu. Replay the last part of act 2 again, but make the other choice, and you'll see the other side of the game's ending plus an extended "true ending" which is, you guessed it, "Ending E." That's it. The game may proudly insists that there are 21 other endings, but they're really just nonstandard game-over screens, consisting of no more than a fade-to-black and a single line of (sometimes humorous, sometimes not) text -- usually as a consequence of turning right when you were supposed to turn left. The other thing to know about [i]Nier Automata[/i] is that the storytelling is pretty lacking. If you launch the game expecting a sophisticated script, compelling characters, an engaging plot, or even a coherent setting... you [i]will[i/] be disappointed. To an even greater extent than other Yoko Taro games, [i]Automata[/i] relies very heavily on subtext, implication and deliberate contradiction to evoke players' emotions and consideration. This is a narrative less about telling a specific story than establishing a(n often hauntingly beautiful) mood. What you get out of [i]Automata's[/i] story will depend very much on what you put in -- read between the lines, so to speak, and you may well laugh and weep with these character. Don't, and you'll idly wonder what all the fuss is about. In some ways this is a failing of the game: unlike its predecessor, [i]Nier Automata[/i] does not bother to put in the legwork to make a more casual consumption of the narrative especially rewarding. As a conventinoal narrative, [i]Automata[/i] is startlingly threadbare: there's precious little dialog, and even less exposition. Going out of your way to complete side-quests and obsessively reading through in-game lore texts will do little to imbue the story with any real sense of coherence. This isn't a story where what the characters think, feel or do matters: it's a story where what the [i]player[/i] thinks, feels and does matters. It's a kind of dreamlike story, relishing in unreasoning chaos and compulsion -- something that would only ever be possible in the games medium. This approach to storytelling is easily [i]Automata's[/i] greatest weakness, as well as its greatest strength. That's all also nonsense. It's also true, too. That's part of the paradox of [i]Nier:[/i] it's both more and less than you'd expect. Simultaneously deep and shallow; superficial and complex; dull and engaging; gorgeous and ugly; sophisticated and simplistic; reductive and nuanced; thought-provoking and irredeemably horny. Key to [i]Automata's[/i] tone is perspective: the characters whose actions you control on-screen are deeply ignorant of the world around them, and often incurious, and the game makes little effort to enlighten them; in perhaps Yoko Taro's signature move, there is also a clear distinction between the characters on-screen and the player -- we do not know these people. What they think, what they feel, where they've been, where they hope to go -- that's theirs, not ours. We merely accompany them on their journey. By upholding these boundaries, [i]Automata[/i] constructs a strikingly believable world, despite the absurdities contained therein. We run through the game as ignorant of [i]Automata's[/i] post-apocalyptic world as we often are of our own, mid-apocalyptic world; like our own friends, we know of these characters no more than what they allow us to know -- and often less than that. This is the foundation of [i]Automata's[/i] profundity, I think: the deliberate withholding of information, both crucial and inconsequential. This narrative reticence prevents players from asserting any sort of sense of ownership over the game world, as we typically do in other spaces; it forces us to respect [i]Automata's[/i] world, in all of its alien and grotesque beauty, for much the same reason taht we must respect our own world -- it is something too big and too great to ever be fully knowable. [h3]Arbitrary Rating: 9/10[/h3] [h1]▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▱[/h1] [h1]★★★ CLASSIC ★★★[/h1] [i]Note: also played on Sony PlayStation 4.[/i]