LogFAQs > #986552206

The Moment: Mother, Im Here
Something I find interesting about the Bastion story is that, despite its strongest emotional beats coming from two instances of player choices, both of which provide two options that each have merit in some way or another, theres a strong sense that the game thinks both have a right answer. The one that ends the game, for example, lets you make the decision between A) rewinding time itself to a point prior to the Calamity, but with no one having memories of what came after, and B) sailing off into the future and accepting that whats done is done, rebuilding however possible. Option A is one of blind and/or blind faith, as youre given no reason in- or out-of-universe to believe that anything could ever go differently. Option B is much more in keeping with the games real theme of moving on and letting go of tragedy, as everything bad that happened in this story happened because someone failed to do so. Theres an obvious finger on the scale here.

Then youve got the choice that precedes that one by just a few minutes.

Leaving Zulf behind after the attack by his kinsmen triggers one last big fight, a fairly pedestrian action sequence that feels like a suitable enough conclusion but isnt materially too different from anything else youve done all game. Aiding him, on the other hand, leads to this:

https://youtu.be/9JvNhc13oKI?si=KSe-ssgdDh7hEcbh

Is there any doubt which option the game *wants* you to pick?

I didnt know this medium could do this. This was THE moment that things started to change for me, when I stopped thinking of these as only games and understood they were art. It was far from my first encounter with something emotionally charged in games, of course, but it was the first encounter that pulled it off like this, with so much communicated wordlessly.

You cant fight back. You just trudge slowly forward, watching your health evaporate, but you dont even know exactly how much you have left. All you can do is drink health potions - moreover, you have to. You feel the horror and hopelessness of the situation youve created. This is the consequence of your kindness, and as its happening, youre trying to determine how it might end. Personally, my gaming experience led me to believe the Kid wasnt really going to die, but the doubt was there, especially when you factor in that youre being accompanied by the haunting lyrics of Zulf accepting his impending death. I knew this wasnt like the games I was accustomed to.

And then, just as youve hit your limit, the attacks subside. The Ura collectively begin to merely watch you, and then they even go so far as to strike down one of their own for breaking the newfound peace. I surprised myself somewhat with my instant understanding that this was a show of sheer, awed respect, an acknowledgement that the Kid isnt like the Caelondians theyre used to. Its powerful. These people, the Kids enemies, are so overcome by his actions in risking (or, really, sacrificing) his life for a man who just betrayed him and brought ruin anew to his doorstep that they allow you both to pass, despite having been determined to kill the both of them not two minutes prior.

What sticks with me most about this moment (and Bastions entire climax) is that the Ura are, in some ways, justified in their wrath. Zulf included. The Caelondian people were ruled by their fear and hubris, and it consumed them until they allowed it to also consume everything else. Their desire for vengeance is justified and understandable, and yet, theyre able to move past it, at least temporarily, after the Kid shows them its possible.

I sung the praises of the Trails seriess brand of optimistic fantasy in its writeup just a few days ago, so while I dont want to be too repetitive in my talking points, I would be remiss not to mention this idea of the power of one as another trope that I quite appreciate. Its something that I honestly believe people overestimate in the real world (though of course there are instances you could point to) but I love to see it happen in fiction that the actions of one brave person start the process of turning around an entire system of belief. One idea that is hard to argue against in our actual lives, though, is that revenge is an endless cycle until somebody has the courage to decide its not. When the player makes the choice to have the Kid save Zulf, theyre left to make up their own mind in regards to what motivates the decision, and likely its a simple matter of projecting your own feelings onto your protagonist. Maybe its pity, maybe you dont even know exactly why.

As a silent avatar, the Kid wont explain. But it certainly seems that the intent is to interpret it as forgiveness. And that forgiveness, having not been exhibited by anyone else in this world for who knows how long, begets more forgiveness. Its not a magical, universal fix-it, as illustrated by the one Ura who continues to fire on the defenseless duo, but it makes a difference.

I said in the main writeup that Bastion is heavily concerned with connecting its players to the restoration of nature, physical things, the actual ground under the characters feet. The Kids last real restorative effort, however, IS a character-focused one (though, as I mentioned way back with Pokemon GSC, nature and humanity arent mutually exclusive). His selflessness begins to heal the hearts of those around him so that they may grow to appreciate whatever remnants of their universe that can be salvaged instead of simply losing it again to another war.

If I had never played Bastion, I assume there would have been another moment in another game that did for me what this moment did. I can even recognize now, with hindsight, that this one maybe leans a bit to the heavy-handed side. Even so, it came at the right time to be the awakening I needed, so in the end, Kid had a hand in creating three worlds: two of his own in the physical and figurative sense, and a new one for me full of games that meant much more than they used to.