Armored Core is defined by an industrial coldness, and such inhumanity is central to the dramatic questions of its newest entry. There isn't a single human being to be seen in the entire game, their presence indicated only by voice over and the hulking mechs they inhabit. Rubicon itself is a planet dotted with colossal megastructures and sprawling metropolises with a bevy of institutions and organizations fighting for control of them as well as the hybrid power source and data conduit substance known as Coral that enticed them there. There’s the derelict scientific institute that established the initial research into the substance and caused the cosmic disaster that hangs over the planet, the governing authority that administers over the remaining Coral reserves, the two corporate powers occupying the planet in order to extract wealth from its veins, and the beleaguered locals struggling to liberate their home. (Editors note: there are actually even more factions in this game!) However, regardless of the faction in question, there’s nary a whiff of culture to be seen, beyond corporate logos and military decals. It’s a vision of humanity's future set on a planet of war where all of our efforts as a people have gone solely into creating the most fucked up mechs, the most overwhelming missile barrages, and the most devastating laser volleys possible. It is within this bleakness that From Software asks the player to answer the question of whether humanity can be trusted to evolve past its current form. It makes for the most interesting moral choice in From Soft’s modern catalog, however not all elements of the game support it as well as it could have.

In order to bring themselves into such a position where they can make such a call, players build and customize their mechs from an arsenal of parts and fight for the highest bidder. There are dozens of stats on display affecting your mech's performances, and figuring out how to balance the tradeoffs of each component to build a cohesive machine is half the fun. This customization is one of the more successful thematic aspects of Armored Core VI, being the vessel in which players express themselves and form an identity. Aside from their name (separate from their callsign, Raven), no aspect of the player character is customizable, or even viewable. Raven is, in essence, their mech, and as such, constantly in flux.

The combat that this customization is in service of is balletic and bombastic, with hefty assault charges and nimble boost dodges, and has a engaging learning curve as the player gradually comes accustomed to managing the considerable mental stack regarding the range and ammunition of four different weapons at once, alongside the mech’s own engine and cooldown capacities. As is typical of From Soft games, spikes in difficulty are often just as much knowledge checks as they are tests of skill and dexterity, and those who love tinkering will be ecstatic over the range of options to try out when they encounter a progress barrier. However, the balancing of the game is too lopsided in order to fully facilitate this intended approach; the stagger system, disconnected from the parries of Sekiro that defined it in that game, heavily rewards burst damage, and if you have powerful ammunition on hand when an enemy is staggered, even Armored Core VI’s fiercest enemies will swiftly crumble. For the most part, my first playthrough was based around upgrading and tinkering with parts for a central mech design I created early on, and the design I took into the final battle shredded every threat it faced in NG+ and NG+2 (on patch 1.02). This undermined the structure that New Game+ is meant to facilitate in this game, which is utilizing the repetition of replaying the game’s various missions as an opportunity to try out new mech designs, and unfortunately I found that NG+2 disappointing in the story department as well.

The story in Armored Core VI the first two routes are quite compelling. It has far more dialogue than any of From Soft’s Soulslikes, including Sekiro, which helps to bring personality to the sheer complexity and density of its proper nouns and headier ideas. There are occasional blemishes, of course. Front of mind is Handler Walter’s dramatically inert off-screen ‘death’, which is, confusingly, only vaguely alluded to. Then there’s the matter of Gen IV augmentation, one of a plethora of established experiments in modifying physiology in order to better pilot Armored Core mechs, which leaves it unclear what Raven’s psychological capabilities are in regards to free will, which muddies the messaging around player choice and the will to choose. However, most of the twists and turns land impactfully, and the decisions to be made are hefty enough that either route of the base story shines through as a memorable and meaningful experience. NG+2, titled ‘Alea lacta Est’ has a lot going for it by focusing around the mercenary support group ALLMIND and their hidden agenda of implementing the Human Instrumentality Project from Neon Genesis Evangelion. It may not be original, but it’s a good thematic fit for the game. This is undermined however by the fact that Alea lacta Est replaces the dramatic gravitas found in the finales of prior playthroughs, with what is essentially a joke. Low rank mercenary G5 Igauza’s petty resentment of the player character takes center stage over a hypothetical antagonist that could have more directly and cleanly represented opposition to the player character’s goals. Sure, G5 Igauza as a foil is meant to represent how one could squander the will to choose, but it doesn’t register when Armored Core VI’s depiction of humanity is already so consumed with war and profit. It doesn't help that the game’s final image is a straight up goofy way of expressing its status quo shift, becoming an instance where the game’s commitment to never showing human faces goes a bit too far, and hardly feeling like a worthy reward to the considerable grind required to reach the ending. It adds up to one of those cases where the masterpiece version of a game is so clearly visible in its released form, but it falls short in a few key places, even if it doesn't stop it from being great overall.