Having only put a paltry 70 hours into Persona 5, I’m not the absolute
authority on the game. From where I’m
standing, though? I’m not afraid to say
that it’s got no right to be as good as it is.
Or maybe “addictive” is the word I’m looking
for. Granted that’s a byproduct of its
quality -- the overflowing style, the lovable cast of characters, the simple
yet satisfying combat, the godlike soundtrack, and more -- but overall, Persona 5 is a hard game to put
down. It’s almost enough to make me go
on a months-long hiatus until I see those end credits roll…or, alternatively,
until I max out everyone’s Confidant ranks.
I, uh, empathize with Mishima (and to a lesser extent Yusuke) way more
than I should.
But even if I were to disappear and huddle in
front of my TV for weeks on end? I’ve
got to get through this post first, at the very least. It’s thematically relevant, after all; some
of the stuff I said last time about the cast being potential (if not
definitive) villains has already been addressed in satisfying ways. I still have to see where things will go from
there, but A) I’m eager to see how the devs will follow through on what they
set up. More importantly, there’s still
point B.
Persona 5 stars
a cast that you could interpret as the villains. Meanwhile, Tales of Berseria stars a cast that you pretty much can’t interpret
as anything else but the
villains. And that’s what makes it
great.
So if you haven’t heard anything about Tales of Berseria (in which case, reevaluate every life decision you’ve made
up to this point you silly, silly person), here’s the setup. The story follows Velvet Crowe, who at the
outset is a sweet and caring 16-year-old country girl living in small-town
Aball. Though she’s seen her share of
hardships -- her older sister has long since passed away, she has to take care
of her sickly little brother Laphicet all by herself, and there’s still the
threat of daemons running amok -- she takes every struggle on the chin, and
with a smile.
That changes when her trusted brother-in-law,
Artorius, takes Laphicet and uses him as the sacrifice for a god-reviving
ritual. Little Laphi gets stabbed,
Velvet ends up getting turned into a daemon herself, and Artorius gets off
scot-free…while our heroine is thrown into a dungeon for her troubles. Cut to three years later, and Velvet isn’t
even a fragment of a shell of her
former self. She’s angry, violent, cold,
ruthless, and most of all? She’s out for
revenge. She wants nothing more than to
kill Artorius with her new monster arm (which you’d be forgiven for calling a
Devil Bringer). And when a chance
encounter helps her escape from her prison, her rampage starts in earnest.
So there are two things worth noting right off the
bat when it comes to Berseria. The first is that it’s actually the prequel
to 2015’s Tales of Zestiria, and
apparently a game that was planned for release from the outset. Fair enough, I suppose. The problem is that, if you’re going to go
for a big, multi-stage project, then the first entry has to justify everything
that follows. For me, Zestiria did that -- even though I’ll
gladly acknowledge that it has some glaring faults. For others, Zestiria didn’t do that; some saw it as a misstep, or a
disappointment, or anything you really don’t
want attached to your labor of love.
But a funny thing happened when going from Zestiria to Berseria. See, the thing
about Tales games is that they have a
knack -- if not an obsession -- with breaking JRPG and storytelling conventions
over one knee. Symphonia took aim at receiving holy orders from higher
beings. Abyss took aim at being “the chosen one”. Vesperia
took aim at both being a “knight in shining armor” and an anti-hero
vigilante. In different ways, Graces and Xillia took aim at the “magical girlfriend” trope. Zestiria
took aim at becoming a messiah figure (AKA the symbolic end point for every
other story out there) and probed the crap out of that by making you literal
Anime Jesus within a few hours of gameplay.
How successful or unsuccessful each Tales game is at exploring its premise (or
even what that premise is) will vary from person to person. You could even argue that certain entries are
send-ups -- if not takedowns -- of other games; I’ve joked before that Symphonia is basically what Final Fantasy 10-2 would be if it didn’t
focus on pop star shenanigans, and Xillia
(and its sequel) seemed to have FF13 (and
its sequel) in the crosshairs. But if
you ask me, the devs decided to strike closer to home with their latest
installment. Whether or not they had it
planned from the start, Berseria does
its best to utterly tear down Zestiria
-- right down to making you play as literal Anime Satan.
It goes beyond that, though. Berseria
isn’t just an attack on Zestiria;
it’s an attack on a massive swath of the past half-decade (and more) of the
gaming zeitgeist.
In terms of the former? That’s hard to go into without spoiling the
game in full and retroactively spoiling Zestiria,
AKA the game I’d strongly recommend playing/watching an LP of if you want the
full experience. Then again, I’m probably about
to spoil a ton of stuff in Berseria offhandedly,
but in the interest of pretending to keep this post’s length manageable, I’ll
go ahead and say this: an overwhelming number of Zestiria’s concepts are included here, and an overwhelming number
of them are turned on their head.
Sorey in Zestiria
was the Shepherd -- Anime Jesus -- which you’d think would make him some sort of holy figure chosen by the heavens
or whatever. Then you find out the
origin of the Shepherd, and realize that it’s basically just a PR title used
and abused for political prestige.
Conversely, you’re playing as the first “Lord of Calamity” in that
universe, which you’d think would
make you the spawn of some ancient hellions from Pandemonium. In reality? It’s just a nickname born from spreading
rumors -- rumors that can’t even get Velvet’s appearance right -- which the top
brass decides to run with. Granted both
names end up sticking over the course of centuries (i.e. going from Berseria to Zestiria), but it’s a level of demystification that sheds new light
on the shared universe.
That’s still overshadowed by the second point,
though. Chalk this up to me reading into
things way farther than I should, but I see Berseria
as a way to call out the vices of storytelling in the modern gaming
industry. Just think about it for a
minute: how many games have we gotten semi-recently -- or at least since the
dawn of the seventh generation -- that have used revenge as their central
conceit? Assassin’s Creed has used it multiple times as a way to justify all
the murdering you’ll end up doing. Watch Dogs used it, too. Shadow
of Mordor notoriously took The Lord
of the Rings and jammed it into the “imma get ya for gettin’ mah wife”
hole, despite it being the squarest of square pegs. I’m positive that that’s not a complete list,
but you get the idea. One slight against
the main character in those games is enough to justify everything he does in
the following hours -- even if they’re far worse than the original crime.
I’ve made it no
secret that I hold that basic revenge fantasy treatment in contempt. It’s a story that can be done well, but it’s
not something that everyone should bank on just
‘cause. And if you are going to bank on it, then you have
to add flourishes that make it unique, exciting, or both. So when news about Berseria first started making the rounds, I was worried that it
would be a limp-wristed affair -- something that pretended to be darker and
edgier when in actuality, its tale of revenge -- like others before it -- would
come off as a toothless attempt to go over that edge. Having finished the game, I can confirm that
there are indeed teeth.
The nicest, simplest thing I can say about Berseria is that -- as the ancient
proverb goes -- zero fucks were given. You
can guess that much just by looking at Velvet; in a world where gamers are
constantly wary of female character designs, her comes Velvet with short shorts
that plunge to the depths of hell and a decisive amount of underboob (which the
game’s camera will constantly remind
you of). Beyond that? Her default costume, backstory, and pretty
much everything about her makes her sound like the spawn of every third
DeviantArt OC. Her name is Velvet Crowe, guys; we’ve reached a
level that’s even further beyond the level of an edgelord.
And you know what?
Berseria steers right into
that skid, and is stronger for it. Yes,
there is the expected “shades of gray” morality wherein the good guys of the
story turn out to be not as altruistic as they appear (because they’re
connected to/invoke images of the church, and religion is basically evil in
JRPGs). Yes, the anti-hero ends up doing
the right thing in the end instead of being an absolute monster from start to
finish. But what makes Velvet stand out
amongst all of the other revenge-seekers is that she seems like the logical
end-point (such as it is) for what creators are really espousing whenever they
create a revenge-seeker.
Here’s the thing: Velvet is actually kind of
insane.
That insanity is justified, of course. Velvet spent three years in a dungeon -- in
what might as well be a pit -- all alone and shrouded in darkness. She had nothing to do except feed on the
daemons thrown at her like bird seed, and stew in her anger over Artorius’
murder/betrayal. Thanks to her daemon
transformation, i.e. the Devil Bringer that signals her status as a “therion”,
she ends up losing several key senses and sensations -- taste in particular. When she finally gets out, she’s as unhinged
as she is dedicated to murdering the murderer.
That’s helped in part by her disposition; she may have aged up to 19
physically (inasmuch as one can age up when subsisting on a diet of daemons and
blood), but she’s still 16 mentally.
It’s no wonder she decides to dress like an edgelord. She probably thinks that her costume looks
like the raddest shit ever.
The more important thing is that Velvet’s mind has
eroded to the size and texture of a small pebble. While she’s still capable of logic and
rational thought, nearly all of it is (at the outset) skewed toward getting her
revenge. Without emotions or morality to
get in her way, she’s nearly as mindless as the beasts she devoured --
something that’s accented by some of her in-battle quotes, like when she flies
into a rage and screams “DEVOUR!” like she’s doing her best Necalli
impression. What this means is that
she’s more than willing to commit some heinous acts without remorse; she’ll
start prison riots, torch fishing towns, steal naval vessels (and crash almost
immediately), cooperate with the criminal underworld, and of course, murder,
murder, murder. And her justification
for all of it is “But he killed my brother, tho!”
I’m not exaggerating. That’s actually a plot point here. There’s a scene relatively early on where
Artorius is being celebrated as a hero and savior, having emerged over the past
three years as a hero against the threat of daemonblight. Because of his continued efforts -- like the
formation of the exorcist-laden Abbey -- Artorius gets named as the Shepherd to
the uproarious applause of the people.
He even gives a speech about how he’s going to continue fighting alongside
the Abbey to bring peace to the world.
In other words? Even if he is
ultimately positioned as the bad guy in the story, he and the exorcists have
legitimately done demonstrable good for the world. And the exorcists continue to do good even if it’s off-screen or via individual
efforts.
But during that scene -- one which brings our
“hero” closer to Artorius than she has been in years, and thus primed for a
little assassination -- Velvet isn’t hearing any of it. Even when one achievement and virtuous act
after another is getting rattled off by the M.C., Velvet’s sole response as she
gets into position is “But Laphicet, tho!”
That’s right, folks. It doesn’t
matter how much good Artorius and crew have done, or how noble he seems to be,
or how much the Abbey’s future efforts might protect the world. All that matters is that Artorius did one
thing to tick Velvet off -- one thing that could have potentially safeguarded,
if not saved the world entirely if
done right -- and that invalidates everything.
Because Velvet’s needs are more important than the rest of the world’s
needs. It’s as if she learned nothing
from Spock.
I think there’s a word for what Velvet is, and it
starts with a V.
Again, it’s true that the game tries to portray
Velvet and her crew as well as the Abbey as people who do both right and
wrong. It’s not as if she’s the ultimate
evil, and it’s not as if Artorius is the ultimate good (he certainly isn’t,
because his final goal is…well, refer to the last post on what I consider to be
the greatest crime imaginable). But Berseria is a game that recognizes the
good done by Artorius and the Abbey, which makes the shades of gray aspect more
genuine in the long run.
By the same token?
It’s a game that isn’t afraid to point out and/or heavily imply that
Team Velvet isn’t a peachy-keen band of do-gooders. Velvet’s actions are called out pretty
regularly, whether it’s by Velvet herself or by the game via implication. Her face might not be remembered, but she will go down in history as the Lord of
Calamity and give the people something to dread for generations to come.
More to the point, there’s an old saying that
comes to mind when dealing with Berseria:
you are defined by the company you keep.
And to that end, Velvet comes off as someone even worse than before.
Five out of six party members in Berseria are terrible people. The nice girl of the group, Eleanor, is a
member of the Abbey who ends up getting roped into the group as part of a pact
(and a mission to personally deliver the team to Artorius). You would think that she’s the voice of
reason and decency in the group, and to be fair she kind of is…at least when
she’s not being a horrible racist. She
hates daemons, which is understandable; unfortunately, that carries over to
anything and anyone that has grievances with the Abbey, including the two
daemons she’s forced to cooperate with.
Then you get to Rokurou, who’s one of those
daemons. And even though he comes across
as one of the nicer members of the core group, it’s worth noting that when you
first meet him he’s itching for the
chance to murder people in battle. Only
by pointing him in the direction of his trusted longsword does he calm down,
and ultimately pledges himself to Velvet as her bushido-style subordinate. But it’s plainly obvious that A) he’s only
following along so he can fight and get stronger, B) his “debt” is a convenient
excuse because he actually doesn’t care about morals, and C) Velvet’s mission
is convenient for him because it’ll let him clash with his older brother
again. Also, not to spoil anything, but
Rokurou might actually be the biggest shitbag of the whole cast. Not only is he also willing to murder with a
smile, but there are also the details of his backstory…which, once fully
revealed, are more than enough to justify any newfound hatred toward him.
Good thing he’s voiced by Joseph Joestar. Otherwise we’d have a real tragedy on our
hands.
Then you get to Magilou, who does very little to
mask that she’s also a shitty
person. True to form, she’s got a tragic
backstory -- albeit one that’s almost treated as an afterthought in-universe --
but that’s not enough to explain away the fact that she’s the patron saint of
apathy. She’s a self-proclaimed witch
that only follows Velvet and the others around to get back the familiar that’ll
let her use magic again; beyond that, she plainly admits that she doesn’t care
about anything or anyone, which makes her complicit in all the crimes you end
up committing over the course of the game.
Does she grow out of that phase?
Yes, but only somewhat; almost from start to finish, Magilou is fine
with hamming it up and cracking wise.
That would probably explain why the rest of the cast treats her like a
friend in name only at best and a skunk-scented perfume at worst.
Then you get to Eizen, who’s a pirate by
nature. That by default means that he’s
committed any number of crimes for the sake of personal gain --thievery,
pillaging, murder on the high seas, collusion with the criminal underworld, and
likely more -- and he’s gung-ho about committing even more if it’ll bring him
closer to finding his missing captain.
Much like Magilou, Eizen doesn’t give a shit about how much death and
destruction the team’s actions might bring; he has a very nonchalant awareness
of it, and won’t interfere because it syncs up with the creed he espouses
(living according to your free will).
But in his case, he’s a threat to himself and everyone around him; as
the “Reaper”, his luck is so terrifyingly bad that misfortune will anything
even remotely nearby. So going on
adventures with his pirate crew? Putting
their lives in jeopardy because of a creed.
…Not gonna lie, though, Eizen is still the most
badass JRPG character ever created. His first super move is
called Perfect Mayhem, and has him punching dudes at mach speed while
flipping a coin. There’s only one way to
react to that.
Basically the only character of the core six who
comes off as completely pure is Laphicet -- not
Velvet’s little brother, but a nameless kid she ends up taking in and
renaming…after kidnapping him and using him as a tool. Laphicet develops over the course of the game
and gains a sense of independence, but as a 10-year-old boy, he hasn’t quite
become the damaged goods that the rest of the cast has. Granted he’s still as complicit with Velvet
and the others’ crimes, and doesn’t even think of calling them out for what
they’ve done (they did save him from
being a mindless automaton, however circumstantially), but he is the heart and
grounding for the band of criminals.
Then again, his default costume puts him in a muumuu, which makes him
the true king of scum and villainy.
I guess there’s at least one major question that
needs answering: how willing are you to overlook the justification behind
criminal acts? How much do the
circumstances validate breaking the law?
Are you allowed to hurt others when others hurt you? The answers will vary from person to person,
as they should. But my interpretation of
Berseria is that those backstories,
situations, and sorrows aren’t enough to put Team Velvet in the clear. The game explains their reasoning -- Velvet’s
in particular, obviously -- but that’s where it stops. Even then, the logic behind that reasoning
can be on shaky ground (see: Rokurou); it’s possible to feel for these guys,
and absolutely possible to fall in
love with them. But you know straight-up
that these guys are bad and what they’re doing is bad.
Maybe that has something to do with the fact that
these guys pretty much fuck up their world for centuries to come.
To be fair, after a certain point in the story it
looks like Team Velvet has no choice but to
fuck up their world; the alternative championed by Artorius and his crew is a
dozen times worse, after all. Naturally
they succeed, even if that sets the stage for Sorey to come in and resolve
things in Zestiria centuries down the
line (and let’s just ignore the fact that Team Velvet started a cycle of
disaster and recovery for about a dozen generations, at a bare minimum). But again, they didn’t have a choice. I’m not going to spoil what happens, but I’ll
say that Artorius’ efforts would’ve been the exact opposite of Eizen’s creed,
and that players get to see a snippet of them late in the game. Basically, the “bad guys” come very close to winning, and just a
glimpse of that win condition is horrifying in more ways than even I can
compress in a blog post. So yes, they
had to destroy in order to save.
What they didn’t
have to do was start poking around at least a dozen in-game hours before
that point to see what would happen if they disturbed the natural order of the
world out of curiosity. To summarize: Zestiria’s plot revolves around Sorey --
as the Shepherd -- and his crew trying to figure out how to get rid of the
malevolence, AKA the dark energy that chokes the life out of the planet and
turns people into monsters (even if it’s naturally produced by the vices in
human hearts). Then you play Berseria, and find out that Velvet and
crew willingly unleash the malevolence because…uh…”he killed my brother, tho!”
Well, I’ll be more specific: it’s accomplished by
Team Velvet uprooting therions from their prisons. It’s a way to screw up Artorius’ plans, first
and foremost, but those therions are there for a reason. As specially-made daemons, the therions have
the ability to devour daemons as well as malevolence -- and Artorius’ plan is
to have those therions stationed in certain places so they can feed that
malevolence to the godlike being Immoninat, which in turn will hasten his
reawakening and help Artorius change the world.
Velvet ain’t havin’ that. She
opts to seize one of the therions from the magical cage that’s been set up,
unconcerned with the consequences. As it
turns out, those consequences lead to a massive overflow of malevolence -- one
that taints the sky, fills the area with floating black particles, and --
crucially -- makes the people of the nearby seaside town turn into daemons that
have to be put down. I’d say it was
because the gang wanted to see what would happen, but a third of them (maybe
half, given the intel received from a friend) should’ve told them that stealing
a therion would have dire consequences.
But they’re basically just like “Oops!” and go
about their business. They keep
kidnapping therions, and keep risking overflows of malevolence. It doesn’t lead to any more towns being
destroyed, thankfully, but let’s not pretend like the threat isn’t there or
that there aren’t any ramifications.
Velvet and the rest are pretty much okay with potentially ruining (if
not ending) lives so they can fulfill their personal agendas. And given the circumstances, I’m pretty sure
they’re more or less at peace with that.
They don’t mind being terrible people, as long as they get what they
want in the end.
I’m starting to think that Team Velvet should try
running a bar.
But there’s a reason why It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia has gone on for as long as it has
-- and it’s the same reason why Berseria has
basically entered my personal gaming hall of fame. Even if the characters are absolutely
terrible people who deserve every punishment and misfortune that comes their
way, they’re still horrifyingly compelling -- a collective, sentient train
wreck that you can’t tear your eyes away from.
The majority of the cast is full of assholes that are almost entirely
unrepentant for their actions, save for a small percentage of a game that could
run for as long as 80 hours. Artorius
and crew might be the bad guys, but you expect them to do evil. You wouldn’t expect the good guys to do the
same, but here we are.
And that’s what makes Berseria so refreshing. The
fact that you are basically playing as the villains puts the game in a unique
position -- one where, even if you kinda-sorta
end up doing the right thing in the end (at the very least putting Anime
Jesus in a position where he can clean up the mess Anime Satan created), it
doesn’t change the fact that Team Velvet did so by crawling over a pile of dead
bodies they left in their wake. But the
game is at least decent enough to be honest about it. No sugarcoating. No pretending otherwise. You’re evil, and it feels so good.
In summation, play this game. And if you refuse, then contemplate the meaning of your
pitiful existence.
Also, this game is funny as hell.
All hail
Lord Eizen.
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