SJ Longthorne

It made me not want to fight. And honestly, considering I've enthusiastically bought a game where fighting is necessary... that's an achievement. And, I believe, a manifestation of the game's message.

The contentious issue was that I wasn't playing as my character by that point. I was playing as me, at odds with my character. And I do think that's something to be open to, to learn from, because of the emotional possibilities it unlocked.

We gotta talk about the middle, without spoilers if possible. But I was gutted. I didn't care. I felt I'd lost progress. I felt cheated. And it happened as this sinking, dawning feeling as I picked up weapon parts and unlocked the skill trees. "This isn't just a scene, is it?"

Yes, I think it ultimately paid off. But the fact that I felt those things then -- and for several hours, I should add -- doesn't go away because of that. Part of me just couldn't be bothered, and that's an issue. But idk how they could have avoided it.

I don't think a consistent splicing approach would have been the same, because part of the reason I felt all those things at the end was out of longing, because I'd been denied what I wanted so long.

Friends and I have discussed an Abby DLC to the first game, following TLOU's timeline (albeit truncated) and ending with the first game's twist from Abby's perspective. That way we could have built investment in Abby beforehand, been interested enough to cushion the blow.

Expensive, though. Not really viable.

I think I need to divorce myself from my pre-held beliefs that good narrative design always = aligning the player with their character. Because this was intentional, and I'm glad I felt the things I did, had the experience I had. I can learn a LOT from this game.