The Leviathan and the Death of Hope

Warning: contains spoilers concerning the Leviathan DLC, Mass Effect 3 and my notions about what good writing is. Duh.

There are moments when I wish I could just turn off my writer's sense at a whim and "just go with it". Ignore that a story in a game, or a movie, or a book, or a TV show is flawed in my opinion, just to enjoy the views, get an adrenaline rush from all the flashing colors and have fun. And truth be told - it usually works that way... Just not for the universes I tend to care about. If you got me invested in your franchise, I will expect you to deliver the goods. 'Tis how the cookie crumbles.

Which brings me to the Leviathan DLC. I've seen a lot of positive reviews and emotions towards it popping up all over the internet before I was even able to check it out myself. My hopes were high, and, initially, I loved it. It had a sense of exploration Mass Effect 3 was seriously lacking and the TGES Mining Base really reminded me of Noveria... It was spot on.

The locations in the DLC are remarkable, but you know that already - they look slick, feel right, play out nicely. The "detective" part of the storyline works - even though Shepard was a dim-witted brick not able to spot the one thing we've all been watchful for since Virmire, he (or she) still managed to discover a few things on his (or her) own, which felt good. EDI's and Vega's involvement in the plot is appreciated, as are other team member interactions throughout the DLC, something that was missing from the downloadable content from the Mass Effect 2 era. Underwater graphics were really pretty.

And then it happened. The story happened. Leviathan appeared and Mass Effect's themes, narrative consistency and attachment to storytelling logic went right out the window. Once again. My outlook on the whole content took a sharp dive in the very last few minutes, changing my brightful, childish "yaaay!" into a grim "urm, nope"... Once again.

You may ask yourself "what is this man talking about, it was awesome" - and I have nothing against your opinion. You may have mastered the art that is out of my reach right now - you may have accepted the fact that Mass Effect became a different narrative than the one I loved and cared for, for 5 years and 2.9 games. But let's not get hasty here, master hobbit, let's start from the very beginning.

There are simple tricks to telling a good story

Over the years I have picked up a few tricks that enable a writer to easily craft a fully comprehensible narrative that works on two separate, but interconnected, levels - emotional and intellectual. I do not consider myself a godsent messiah writer, mind you (I guess I'm rather average), most of the tricks I use have been passed onto me by people far more awesome and far more experienced than me, but I treat the two little nuggets of knowledge I'm going to share with you as exceptionally important.

The first trick is what I like to call "emotional consistency". Its general rule is that unless it is relevant to the character progression arc of the protagonist or to the implied mental state of the narrator (which are not the cases in Mass Effect), you should choose a single emotion that will remain the focus of both your narrative and your writing efforts, that will help you make sure that everything you write won't end up as an emotionally incomprehensible mess, a stitched up mosaic of feels and meanings that you consider "cool", but that don't really add up to a meaningful experience. This is *not* a "theme" mind you - it is the main *emotion* you want to convey through your story.

This "emotional focus" may disappear from the narrative at times, which helps with establishing drama and with, well, fracking with the minds of your audience, but you have to be sure that such a disappearance is applied by you at a precise time, with precise conditions... And - as a general rule - never during the most important pay-off moment in your whole story - the very finale. This governing emotion may be hidden for a time, as long as you remember about it yourself, as long as it remains your guiding light during your creative process.

The Beacon of Hope

When I started penning down the rough scenario for "Marauder Shields", I took the analytical approach, disseminating the story, themes and the bouquet of emotions seen in the first 2.9 games of the Mass Effect trilogy... And I believe I identified the word defining its guiding emotion. Hope. Hope for rescuing the galaxy, hope for stopping Saren, hope for humanity to show their true worth and join the other Council species... Hope that the desperate search for the Conduit will produce a miracleous way of stopping the Reapers... Hope that Shepard will friggin' come back from the rubble, with epic fanfares going on in the background.

The second game opens with Shepard declared as a "bloody icon", a symbol giving hope for humanity, its unity, its future... If we lose Shepard, humanity might well follow. Why do you think the narrative makes such a big deal out of this? Because Shepard is such a good shot, or such a powerful biotic? No. Because it implies that what the Normandy did in the first Mass Effect had consequences - and placed it in a unique position of being the nexus of galactic unity. One needed so badly in such desperate times. The Illusive Man clearly understands this, whatever we think about his shady plans or dangerous philosophy. He rebuilds the Normandy, investing significant resources, but he makes sure that the ship looks similar, he makes sure that the name stays the same. Because he understands he isn't just rebuilding a ship. Whatever his ulterior motives are... at that time he is reigniting the Beacon of Hope.

End of Mass Effect 2. Commander Shepard strouts through the Normandy. The ship is heavily damaged after the assault on the Collector Base... but she'll live. She'll fight. She died once before, as did Shepard, but the music announces that this is far from over. The crew members check their weapons, manly looks are exchanged (with Jack delivering the manliest, which I absolutely loved) and... Shepard stops at the viewport, starring down the stars, mirroring the ending scene from "Empire Strikes Back"... The narrative tells you, with the use of this simple, yet awesome scene, that with the help of your loyal crew, you can overcome any obstacles. You can fight and win. Because no matter the odds, there is always hope.

Mass Effect 3. Despite some logical and narrative flaws present in the story from the very beginning (the Crucible plot appearing from nowhere, Cerberus suddenly becoming a Bond-like villain organization), the game follows the emotional guidance of its predecessors to the letter (allow me to emphasize the fact that the "governing emotion" is *not* the same as a "theme", or an "only emotion"). The situation may be dire, the death of millions may haunt you 'til the day you die... But there *is* hope. *You* are the hope. And you achieve miracles. Turians and krogan working together. The geth and quarian fleets united. The galaxy gathering under a single banner... You see in their eyes the same fear that would take the heart of you. And you know a day may come when the courage of men fails, when we all forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship... But it was not that day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of freedom comes crashing down... But it was not that day! That day... You fought. And the Free People of the Galaxy stood there with you... Holding the line. Protecting the universe.

The ending of Mass Effect 3. Everything changes. The narrative drops its core for no significant storytelling reason other than "we wanted to write it this way" (at least that's my impression, don't know if a correct one). Shepard's fight-until-the-end attitude, the only element of his (or hers) character identical for all players, gets broken off-screen. Nearly all major themes of the series are suddenly dropped and replaced by a twisted version of ME1's "organics vs. synthetics", no longer valid in this universe due to the events and ideas shared with the players in ME2 and ME3 - the concept evolved during the series, changed, progressed and, at the crucial moment, was slammed back to its original, embryo state. The game unexpectedly shifts from space opera science-fiction to space fantasy. And finally... The emotional guidance of the series suddenly evaporates and is supplanted with a substitute, a piece that doesn't fit the puzzle. Hope dies.

One could argue that the solutions presented by the StarChild grant you some kind of hope... And, in my opinion, one would be wrong. The very philosophical themes of the ending indicate that nothing matters, neither in the past (all choices become invalidated), nor the future (everything can be invalidated once again, by another godlike creature with an even stupider plan - these are the new rules of the narrative). Your hopes, presented to you over the course of the narrative, were false - this is why it stings so much to return to the previous games, this is why replayability gets murdered by this finale. Let me emphasize this... The crucial emotion of Mass Effect was HOPE. Believing in a positive outcome fueled by your efforts and sacrifices, which is invalidated retroactively. You can hide away the "it's about the journey" handwave - how can you take the same journey again, how can you hope again, if you know that it's just a lie? At least that's the case for those who interpreted the finale in the same way I did...

Instead, you are left with a scene of a godlike creature shifting the universe and life to its bidding... And you are assisting with it. You are not choosing, not really (unless you accept the Refusal ending, which is yet another emotional play to make you think of Synthesis as the right choice, no matter how philosophically wrong it really is) - you are selecting one of the options the StarChild is okay with. And each of the endings, from the mildly horrible Destroy, through pretty horrible Control, to the absolutely horrible Synthesis means one and the same thing... Your world ends, the current rules of reality governing Mass Effect are killed off and you are the executioner holding the bloody axe. Some may consider that a shyamalanalanyan tweeeaast. I consider it a false narrative. A bad one.

The death of hope in Leviathan

Now, getting back to Leviathan...

Similarly to Mass Effect 3 it starts with a suiting story, if a bit vague exposition-wise... But it's really enjoyable, especially if - like me - you like your massive amounts of Boom! Splash! Bazzzom! Bratatata! divided up by segments of exploration and moving around the world without your gun being constantly drawn. And exactly when you're enjoying it the most, thinking that getting this DLC really made your day... It plunges back to the world where stopping a war between synthetics and organics is best achieved by - obviously! - starting a war between advanced synthetics and advanced organics. Oh, Bob, you're such a funny Reaper, wanting to disarm them, or shoot EMP pulses at them, or just appearing every thousand years and making threats until they shit themselves into obedience. Killing them all is obviously the right course of action, didn't you get the memo?

When referring to the "death of hope" in the title of this little in-depth review I wanted to bring your eyes to something that really seems sadistic at this point. This whole adventure... Promises you hope. Once again. You are looking for a "Reaper Killer", a creature or a starship capable of shooting down our giant (and somewhat less scary once we realize they're just mindless tools now) cuttlefish. An asset that will finally let you defeat those guddamn murderers. I want to emphasize this: the whole point of this excursion is to gather a weapon for the final fight that - once again - won't change the outcome of said fight. It gives you EMS points that don't change a thing. It lets your favorite characters *hope* for a better future, while you yourself *know* that hope dies at the end of this story, that they are in fact running in circles... You are the spectator that sees them performing heroic tasks that will give them no reward. You are sitting on top of a giant boulder, and even though you'd like to help Sisyphus out, you can't. I may be weird, but I find it intensely cruel.

Alas... Leviathan joins up with the new narrative and tries hard to sell it to you, to validate that 0.1 of Mass Effect 3 that is not the Mass Effect I've known and loved (and still do). It is a part of the StarChild narrative, and similarly to ME3's finale, it feels (at least to me) completely disjointed from everything we experienced previously, and - in the case of this DLC - everything we experience afterwards as well, since the discovery of the most advanced organic species in the universe, previous masters of the Milky Way and the creators of the Reapers has *no* impact on anything, other than Hacket's two lines of dialogue, handwaving them as being sooo super duper ahead of us. If you thought that Javik's discovery should have made a bigger impact than just a few lines of dialogue thrown here and there, try not to smirk when the whole crew goes back to usual buzinass after actually asking the Leviathan to join up with them and hearing a weirdly honest reply of "sure, but I will enslave the Reapers afterwards".

...wait, what?

The second trick: asking yourself "why?"

I'm really happy for you "emotional focus" and I'mma let you finish, but "the rule of why?" has to be the best writing advice by Koobs of all time - of all time! It's an extremely simple and effective process that enables you to craft better stories, no matter the genre or specifics of the story you're creating... And it's quite simple really: once you finish writing a paragraph containing a new piece of information of any kind, any action undertaken by your protagonists or antagonists... Ask yourself "why?".

Allow me to present you with an example. The Leviathans created the A.I. to stop wars between their synthetic thralls and their organic thralls. Why?

This question establishes a train of logical thought that enables you to craft the story in a way that will be impervious to reader/viewer/gamer scrutiny, be it analytical yet loving (like mine), or hateful and bashing. You don't have to explain everything, that would be counterproductive, but you have to craft the rest of the story in such a way that your lore doesn't destroy the answers you're giving yourself to the "why" question. In other words: it's a process of checking whether your writing holds up when confronted with logic.

Let's follow-up on our example: if the Leviathans created the A.I. to think of a solution to the conflict, it implies that they're not powerful enough to put an end to it themselves. And yet, the game suggests that they are indeed powerful enough to do that and more. If the wars happen again and again, in spite of the Leviathans' will, it suggests that the Leviathans are not in control. And yet, from what we hear about their method of indoctrination and their rule of the Milky Way, they are in *total* control. This is just an example - a simple "why?" not asked by the writers in one precise moment established a piece of lore that is biting itself in the leg. Either the presentation is wrong and players are not given the information correctly (which is bad), or the information is made up from fragments that just don't fit well together (which is bad).

See the doubts I just showcased above? These come from a single "why?" I asked myself while playing the DLC... And I see a lot of other chances to ask that question and not be able to produce a logical answer without some seriously out-of-the-playing-field assumptions. My current favorite - Leviathans controlling the galaxy completely, yet being beaten by the Reapers before the Reapers even existed, by the thralls they have been themselves controlling. Why? Another one: the Leviathans, showcased as organic masterminds, construct a synthetic to stop wars that derive from the organic creatures creating synthetics. Another: the Leviathans try to solve the problem caused by synthetics rising against their organic creators, yet program no "don't kill us, dude" safeties (Asimov, anyone?) into their own synthetic creation. Yada dada dada, I could go on, but I've been throwing text at you for far too long already.

Want to know what I think about this (rhetorical to the max - if you've come so far I'll assume that's exactly what you want)? The Leviathan, Mass Effect and its writers (who, let me emphasize this, are brilliant when given proper material to work with - they remain my favorite game-making scribes, right there with Obsidian and Telltale, as of late) are hostages of Mass Effect 3's ill-fitting and badly constructed finale. It's as simple as that - no one is willing to change it, and yet everything done around it, everything that plays into the StarChild narrative ends up broken, because the very concept of said narrative *is broken*. It is a slice of tomato on a blueberry pie. It just doesn't belong there.

The Leviathan and MScanon

We finally arrive at the question I've been asking myself since yesterday: how the hell do we include something as fundamentally broken into MScanon? If I cancel it out - wouldn't that mean we're drifting further and further away from the official canon and end up as a completely alternative universe instead? Are we okay with that? Can we really afford to treat the next DLCs - if they will have the misfortune of including any additional backstory linking to the StarChild - as non-existant, even if they will still deliver big chunks of awesome content? Allow me to remind you - aside from the very finale I really enjoyed the Leviathan DLC and its gameplay.

I will keep my Reaper origin story, because it is (my dear Lady Humility, cover your ears!) awesome. I recently shared it with fellow writer Phil Hornshaw of GameFront fame, the author of the great "So You Created a Wormhole: The Time Traveler's Guide to Time Travel"... Excitement was had, high fives were exchanged over Skype, everyone went back to their tasks with a big smile. And I truly believe that you will enjoy how much sense it will all make in the end, from the Crucible to Reaper tactics and goals. Hell, I will explain why did the Reapers put such a significance to London in Episode 33 already.

My current idea is to create a separate 3-part alternative ending to the Leviathan story. A comic book "patch" of sorts, replacing the finale of the DLC with different dialogue, a different meaning, a different ending. This comic would be created during the run of "Marauder Shields" or right afterwards and would be concluded (big spoiler - but I think it's worth noting) with the last Leviathan actually dying in front of us, instead of becoming a game changer that never changed the game. If you would be okay with that - that will be the way I will proceed. Consider this a question aimed at all of you, however - how do you feel about such an idea?

Finally, recommendations for all of you that read this text without playing the DLC. I won't tell you to buy it or not - it's all up to you. You now know all my objections, but I still think that when approached correctly - with full knowledge what will happen in the end - it's fun. I enjoyed the gameplay elements and I enjoyed playing a bit of Mass Effect again, even if it's trapped in the hole dug up by the StarChild. I intend to keep supporting BioWare with my money, and keep loving them, despite the mistakes (in my opinion) they've done when working on ME3's finale. So, no, I'm not regretting spending my 10 bucks on this. I'm regretting Mass Effect 3 ended as it did.

Thank you for reading all of this. And remember that we're all here to make sure that hope keeps burning bright. Because in "Marauder Shields"...

Hope is Alive.

Yours truly,

Koobs