The idea of the unreliable narrator has been used a lot in fiction, and it's one of the more interesting tools in an artist's toolkit. It's visited less often in video games than it is in novels or film, mainly due to it being a burgeoning medium still: the most notable example in this space I can think of is Final Fantasy VII.

In Final Fantasy VII, the protagonist Cloud is someone who believes to have been an elite member of a corporation's military police at one point. Throughout most of the game you simply believe his testimony, and it's only at the turning point that you realize that he was never that - it was through systems of capital and their atrocities that his identity was twisted and warped, changing his very memories in order to suit the propaganda narrative of said corporation better, even if they didn't intend it to. Final Fantasy VII makes a bold declaration with this: our perceptions of ourselves and the world around us are tainted by systems of abuse and violence that we are thrust into.

Bastion attempts something similar, and it succeeds in some aspects. The propaganda narrative of the imperialist narrator, Rucks, is a pretty spot-on satire at points - a particularly clever usage of it is how whenever you try to talk to characters from the oppressed class of people, he will speak over them in vague non-answers to your questions. The systems of empire do not want their victims to have a voice. He's an effective antagonist, one that makes you commit terrible acts of genocide in the name of his warped ideology. The issue lies in that the game doesn't seem to want to commit to him being an antagonist.

This is the second Supergiant Game I've played, and it's two for two on terrible endings that back out of committing to the game's ideas at the last second. In Pyre, the ending is a changing of the guard as opposed to anything revolutionary. It's framed as a massive upheaval, but is just neoliberalism. It's not great, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth every time I think about it.

The ending of Bastion, similarly, leaves a lot to be desired. In a lot of ways, it's much worse. The aforementioned narrator and his awful views are swept under the rug. After the protagonist decides to evacuate the Bastion and break free from the cycles of violence, Rucks... shows no indication that he's even learned anything from the experience. This is an imperialist warmonger who tricked you into perpetuating racialized violence, but the game decides that everyone has to be friends by the end of it. There is no resolution to this. It's a vapid, feel good ending that doesn't address major issues with this character because to do so would be difficult. What we end up with is a disappointingly centrist "why can't we all just get along" story.

It seems that behind the illustrative beauty and innovative gameplay mechanics of Supergiant lies a deep disinterest in making any bold statements with their games, which is a true shame.

There's something to say about quality vs enjoyment. There are pieces of media everyone around you thinks is fantastic but you don't seem to get, or you can find guilty pleasure in something maligned by the public. Earthbound Beginnings is the latter.

The mechanics of this game have aged like an ice cream cone in the heat, with barely stapled together "balancing" consisting of enemies who consistently take negative damage while posing as massive threats to your party. The world is rather barren and labyrinthian, and key objectives are obtuse to find with little to guide you on your way. Yet, despite all this, there lies this nostalgic charm in the game's presentation that drives me to think about it more than I should.

Similarly to Persona 5, I would say that the best thing this game has to offer is the general aesthetic. Simple and cute westernized characters fighting enemies ranging from everyday birds and bullies to more bizarre zombies and alien robots lends itself to a sense of escapism. This is a game that I often imagined me and my friends partaking in when I was younger, being psychics and exploring the world while dealing with weird threats. While Earthbound fulfills this escapism fantasy arguably better, with more varied locations and set pieces, Earthbound Beginnings takes pride in it's simplicity, feeling more homely as a result. And that humble, nostalgic feel also ties into this game's underground narrative.



SPOILERS START HERE



While this game is now more formally called Earthbound Beginnings due to the original translation officially being published, I am more keen on calling this game as it was initially pitched in japan, MOTHER. MOTHER, for how narratively shallow it seems on the surface, actually has more underneath the plot than is shown, all relating back to its namesake. Giygas is genuinely a sympathetic being, raised as a child by a young couple and growing conflicting feelings as the love of his mother Maria is constantly swept away by his hatred for his father George for treating his psychic powers like a toy. This is even shown in the final battle, where Giygas offers Ninten, the great grandchild of George and Maria to be spared while the rest of humanity is conquered. I like to believe that he sees the same spark of hope that Maria instilled him with. However, so filled with hate, it's hard to accept the love in your life, especially when it stems from something that hurt you. Like anyone dealing with trauma, his conflicting feelings end up causing him to escape in the end when confronted with the side of his family that loved him, wrought with his emotions until he eventually collapses and becomes the embodiment of misery we see in the sequel. For how little this game actually says, the deep emotional core of the MOTHER series still manages to shine in what is still by far the lightest in tone of the series.



SPOILERS END HERE



So, that's it right? Bad game is saved by a good story? Well, you've seen my review score, and all that I just said in that last paragraph is my own interpretation of what happens. MOTHER is a series built on implication, with barely anything of its deeper themes being explicitly stated to the player. This is most evident here, where the game plays more of like a comedy (not that it's a bad thing. I think this game is very charming) than an emotional gut punch like its grandchild. When you're playing this game, instead of dealing with a gripping story, you're dealing with tedious to bullshit encounters and getting lost in large areas that barely look distinct from each other. There are literally two factories you do back to back in the middle of the game, with the second one just being a longer, more annoying version of the first one, and it's just one example of this games many frustrating areas.

MOTHER is not a good game, and honestly I would advise to NOT play it. But, that does not mean this game doesn't have any merits. This is a game I love discussing and thinking about more than actually playing, with a whimsical OST, escapist nostalgia, and a story deeper than what is presented. It's a prime example that shows that while flaws may be prevalent, you can still find enjoyment in other aspects of a piece of art, and that's exactly what I do with this game.

TL;DR Pollyanna is the best overworld theme of all time and Teddy is a gigachad.

It was pretty enjoyable and spooky.

The nightmare was a mechanic that I did not get the point of considering how easy it was to avoid.

The ending (atleast the one I got) was a bit weird considering it was a 10 second cutscene of you ship leaving the station then the MC saying “sometimes I have this dream” with an abrupt cut to credits.

(EDIT ABOUT THE ENDING)
It was a post credits scene? I mean sure but why?

Oh and fuck the imposter cook