2015
It's difficult to think about my high school years. For as important as they were to forming me into the man I am today I look back on the teen I was with a lot of regret and embarrassment. I was a close-minded, stubborn, and sheltered kid that preferred staying in my own bubble of toxic comfort rather than accept the fact that I needed to grow both for my sake and the sake of others. Subconsciously I knew that something I had to give, I could tell that I had the power to affect the people around me no matter my intentions. And from there, I slowly changed myself to be better, kinder, more understanding. I may have been young, but I was no longer a kid. Funnily enough, that journey started in 2015 when I decided to join my school's theatre program.
It was that decision that brought me out of my comfort zone and into a greater world of community and art. One that introduced me to most of my closest friends in adolescence, friends that I still think about and occasionally catch up with all these years later. That's not to say that I immediately became better, that I didn't ever embarrass myself or act regrettably. I had to work to be better, and even when things got so bad that I'd wish for a total do-over, or even to just cast that world away for good, I managed to keep going. And that couldn't have happened without the wonderful people I met nearly 10 years ago.
It's hard not to feel reflective when playing this game. In it's short runtime Toby Fox's writing makes such a strong impact that feels so much more alive and tender than practically anything else you could compare it to. And that was clearly felt all over the world when the game dropped, it was inescapable. Replaying this game, for maybe the first time in my adult life, brought me back to that time; warts and all. And for as much as it hurt to remember the person I was, it was also cathartic to think about who I am now and be proud.
It was that decision that brought me out of my comfort zone and into a greater world of community and art. One that introduced me to most of my closest friends in adolescence, friends that I still think about and occasionally catch up with all these years later. That's not to say that I immediately became better, that I didn't ever embarrass myself or act regrettably. I had to work to be better, and even when things got so bad that I'd wish for a total do-over, or even to just cast that world away for good, I managed to keep going. And that couldn't have happened without the wonderful people I met nearly 10 years ago.
It's hard not to feel reflective when playing this game. In it's short runtime Toby Fox's writing makes such a strong impact that feels so much more alive and tender than practically anything else you could compare it to. And that was clearly felt all over the world when the game dropped, it was inescapable. Replaying this game, for maybe the first time in my adult life, brought me back to that time; warts and all. And for as much as it hurt to remember the person I was, it was also cathartic to think about who I am now and be proud.
This review contains spoilers
[This review also contains minor spoilers for the end of The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker]
"It's almost time for me to go.
And with me... The last embers of this fruitless war dies out. And at last those old evils will be gone.
Once the source of evil returns to zero... A new one... A new future... Will be born.
That new world... Is yours to live in. Not as a snake... But as a man."
How does a hero die? By the hands of their enemies? Their friends? The people who believed in their legacy? Or is it by their own will to carry out a mission that no one is asking them to do?
Metal Gear Solid 4 is a game that resents its own existence. A brutal reflection on the series it's meant to send off while also criticizing it's role in perpetuating a cruel, violent digital world by an artist that is reluctantly taking on the job because he believes it's his battle alone. Old Snake is very clearly a stand-in for Kojima: a man hellbent on killing himself over a mission that could be taken on by someone else, but that'd only divert harm to them rather than make things easier for everyone (see Raiden's arc in this game). Instead it feels more appropriate for him to finish the job himself, accepting the responsibility of his actions/legacy, and then die a soldier.
Except he doesn't die a soldier, instead his father--a man whom Snake had been shaped into emulating from his inception--visits him from the beyond the grave to send a message. A plea to keep going and see his life to its natural conclusion. The old world is over and its champions have expired, there's no point in fighting anymore. It's time instead to finally rest.
When reading the opening quote, a section from Big Boss's parting words to Snake, I think about a similar speech from King Hyrule in the final moments of The Wind Waker:
"My children... Listen to me.
I have lived regretting the past.
And I have faced those regrets.
If only I could do things over again... Not a day of my life has gone by without my thoughts turning to my kingdom of old.
I have lived bound to Hyrule.
In that sense, I was the same as Ganondorf.
But you...
I want you to live for the future.
There may be nothing left for you...
But despite that, you must look forward and walk a path of hope, trusting that it will sustain you when darkness comes."
While Wind Waker is contextualized from the perspective of the youth who'll be living in this liberated world as opposed to the decaying old guard in Guns of the Patriots, they're both communicating the same idea. It's time to let go of the glories of the past so that the new generation can finally live for themselves. And where Zelda took that idea as permission to constantly evolve itself andalmost never look back, Metal Gear Solid (or more specifically, Kojima) saw it as a means to permanently end the series.
There were more Metal Gear games to come in the future, of course; but this was the end of it as a legend, as a complete narrative. This is where Solid Snake died.
"It's almost time for me to go.
And with me... The last embers of this fruitless war dies out. And at last those old evils will be gone.
Once the source of evil returns to zero... A new one... A new future... Will be born.
That new world... Is yours to live in. Not as a snake... But as a man."
How does a hero die? By the hands of their enemies? Their friends? The people who believed in their legacy? Or is it by their own will to carry out a mission that no one is asking them to do?
Metal Gear Solid 4 is a game that resents its own existence. A brutal reflection on the series it's meant to send off while also criticizing it's role in perpetuating a cruel, violent digital world by an artist that is reluctantly taking on the job because he believes it's his battle alone. Old Snake is very clearly a stand-in for Kojima: a man hellbent on killing himself over a mission that could be taken on by someone else, but that'd only divert harm to them rather than make things easier for everyone (see Raiden's arc in this game). Instead it feels more appropriate for him to finish the job himself, accepting the responsibility of his actions/legacy, and then die a soldier.
Except he doesn't die a soldier, instead his father--a man whom Snake had been shaped into emulating from his inception--visits him from the beyond the grave to send a message. A plea to keep going and see his life to its natural conclusion. The old world is over and its champions have expired, there's no point in fighting anymore. It's time instead to finally rest.
When reading the opening quote, a section from Big Boss's parting words to Snake, I think about a similar speech from King Hyrule in the final moments of The Wind Waker:
"My children... Listen to me.
I have lived regretting the past.
And I have faced those regrets.
If only I could do things over again... Not a day of my life has gone by without my thoughts turning to my kingdom of old.
I have lived bound to Hyrule.
In that sense, I was the same as Ganondorf.
But you...
I want you to live for the future.
There may be nothing left for you...
But despite that, you must look forward and walk a path of hope, trusting that it will sustain you when darkness comes."
While Wind Waker is contextualized from the perspective of the youth who'll be living in this liberated world as opposed to the decaying old guard in Guns of the Patriots, they're both communicating the same idea. It's time to let go of the glories of the past so that the new generation can finally live for themselves. And where Zelda took that idea as permission to constantly evolve itself and
There were more Metal Gear games to come in the future, of course; but this was the end of it as a legend, as a complete narrative. This is where Solid Snake died.
2002
People on twitter and youtube will really tell you "games used to be so much better" and point to shit like this when in reality we were suffering back then.
2007
Had a lot of strange feelings when replaying this tbh. It used to be my favorite Paper Mario game (mostly since it was my first), and I’d always think about how the writing and world design were far more interesting here this than in TTYD whenever I reflected on the series. But even though I still do like it quite a bit, I’m not sure if that’s a very honest position for me anymore.
I do think it has a handful of ideas that are more realized than its GameCube predecessor (primarily how the game assigns unique mechanics to the 4 main characters that carry throughout the whole game, especially swapping to 3D). And yeah I do get more out of the writing and character dynamics here; but honestly, as I was playing more and more I found myself just puzzled at its very existence.
I understand that it was originally intended for the GameCube—and therefore might’ve faired better as a companion to TTYD than a sequel—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this is just way too weird and different of a project to the entirety of the Paper Mario series that it’s nearly impossible to compare them side-by-side. This is a side-scrolling platformer through and through and what that genre invokes/necessitates is almost totally opposed to that of the turn-based RPG genre. It doesn’t matter how much you try to blend the two as they were made to be entirely unique experiences.
I do think it has a handful of ideas that are more realized than its GameCube predecessor (primarily how the game assigns unique mechanics to the 4 main characters that carry throughout the whole game, especially swapping to 3D). And yeah I do get more out of the writing and character dynamics here; but honestly, as I was playing more and more I found myself just puzzled at its very existence.
I understand that it was originally intended for the GameCube—and therefore might’ve faired better as a companion to TTYD than a sequel—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this is just way too weird and different of a project to the entirety of the Paper Mario series that it’s nearly impossible to compare them side-by-side. This is a side-scrolling platformer through and through and what that genre invokes/necessitates is almost totally opposed to that of the turn-based RPG genre. It doesn’t matter how much you try to blend the two as they were made to be entirely unique experiences.