The Best Parts of Death Stranding 2 Are When the Characters Acknowledge They’re in a Game

The Best Parts of Death Stranding 2 Are When the Characters Acknowledge They’re in a Game

Hideo Kojima is famous for directing video games that break the fourth wall. Perhaps the most-cited example is the Metal Gear Solid boss fight against Psycho Mantis, in which he would “read” the player’s memory card, comment on it, and even predict the player’s attacks. The Death Stranding series is no different, often using fourth wall breaks as opportunities for levity and commentary about the game’s story. Even though Death Stranding 2 is a very serious game about grief, the best parts are when the characters acknowledge they’re in a video game. And in Death Stranding 2, those moments are not always just there for comedic effect; sometimes, being in a video game is serious business.

Of course, Death Stranding is a series in which characters have names like Die-Hardman and Dollman and Rainy. The characters’ names are often very literal, almost like the games are morality plays. Writing the characters in such a way that they seem more like paper dolls than people does explain some of the game’s excessive reliance on tropes, but mostly, it allows the player to understand very quickly what characters’ motivations are in a world with a fairly complex mythos. The larger lore of the Beach and BBs and Extinction Entities is confusing enough, so at least the characters and their personality traits are simple.

By extension, simple characters have simple roles to play. And if they don’t play their roles, the game might just come to a screeching halt—literally. Death Stranding 2 opens with a perfect fourth-wall breakage that happens when the player tries to say “no” to Fragile when she asks Sam to become a delivery porter again. If you say no on Sam’s behalf, the game shows an animation of the scene rewinding like a VHS tape, looping back to the dialogue option where Sam can make the choice again. But, as my former colleague Ian Walker found out and covered for his blog Tell Them I Died, if Sam says no twice in row, the game rewinds even further to “the game’s actual opening, where we meet Sam and Lou in media res during the tail end of a delivery and learn the controls as they return home. It’s here that I thought Death Stranding 2 was going to punish my bullshit by making me play through the entire sequence again before Sam screamed and the game returned to his conversation with Fragile once more, accompanied by an appropriate record scratch. This time, however, the only option it provided is saying yes to the job.”

Sam’s frustrated scream at the very idea of rewinding back to the beginning of the game is hilariously relatable in this moment, because it’s how the player would almost certainly react if this is what the game did to them. But instead, Death Stranding 2 doesn’t give Sam the option to refuse the call. He’s the hero, so he has to undergo the hero’s journey. From this point forward, I’m going to spoil some far more significant plot points in Death Stranding 2, so don’t keep reading if you don’t want to know what else happens in the game.

As funny as this early moment is, it’s actually also quite poignant. There turns out to be a very good reason why Sam might want to return to the beginning of the game when it’s just him with Lou in a baby carrier, hiking over the mountaintops together. If Sam agrees to go on the mission that Fragile is assigning him, that means Sam will be entrusting Lou into Fragile’s care, and the thing that happens very shortly after that is Death Stranding antagonist Higgs returning and trying to murder Fragile and Lou. Even though baby Lou actually survives this encounter, she gets trapped in a hell dimension for years on end, and it’s not until she’s an adult woman that she returns to Sam’s world. Meanwhile, Fragile actually does die at Higgs’ hand.

The player doesn’t know this yet, of course, and Sam doesn’t either. But there is a retroactive sadness to this fourth wall break, because it imagines a world in which Sam could have said “no” to the original exchange and, perhaps, Fragile and Lou wouldn’t have been attacked by Higgs on that fateful day. Perhaps Lou could have grown up with Sam and had a normal life, and Fragile could have lived out a long life too.

There are plenty of fourth wall breaks that are goofy for goofiness’ sake, much of them on the part of Dollman. For example, Sam accrues a small collection of famous novels in his private room on the sci-fi ship that the game’s ensemble cast uses to get around in Death Stranding 2, and every time Sam picks up one of these books, his talking doll friend Dollman starts cracking wise about the book’s contents. When Sam picks up Frankenstein, Dollman notes that actress Elle Fanning starred in a biopic as author Mary Shelley, then says, “Now wait, where have I heard that name before?” (Fanning plays one of the major characters in Death Stranding 2.) When Sam picks up Moby Dick, Dollman notes that the seafarers on the Pequod have a lot in common with the developers at Kojima Productions, then admonishes Sam for not being familiar with Kojima Productions.

But what does it really mean for Sam, his friends, and his foes to be aware that they’re in a video game? In practice, it allows for the narrative to also include commentary on the nature of how the game was made. I have always put great stock into Leigh Alexander’s theory that the Metal Gear Solid series is a metaphor for Kojima’s own career in game development, specifically the era during which Kojima Productions was owned by Konami. Death Stranding and Death Stranding 2 are Kojima Productions’ first two games since becoming independent, and notably, they star independent contractor Sam, who despite being the son of the President of the United States (well, technically, the United Cities of America), repeatedly rejects the idea of being a “chosen one.” It’s definitely a narrative that fits with how Kojima might want himself to be perceived publicly, as more of a humble everyman than an egotistic auteur.

In Death Stranding 2, which takes place amidst the ascent of a new UCA President, Sam begins outright complaining about the implication that his actions could come across as Western imperialism. The second game takes place in Mexico and Australia, where Sam gets forced into a white savior-esque role whether he likes it or not. Sam states his wish to refuse the call multiple times in this game, but just like in the opening scene with Fragile, the dialogue options never allow the player to support Sam’s desires. The only true choice would be to put down the controller and stop playing.

Death Stranding 2 is also notably easier and more fun to play than the first game. Connecting all of the United States to the chiral network in the first game was tedious and difficult. Death Stranding 2 sands off a lot of the friction in the walking simulator aspects of the game, and also puts more of an emphasis on traditional combat encounters, filling its world with bandits for Sam to shoot at (all of the weapons are described as “non-lethal,” but in practice, they feel just like the real guns from any other game). Perhaps this is a commentary on how tantalizing it can be to fall into the classic dark patterns of so many modern video games, with the player rewarded for constant expansionism and violence. Sam may be against it, but they just keep on getting easier and more fun, so of course the player can’t help but continue, even against the protagonist’s own protests.

And yet, at the end of the game, it becomes clear that Sam was right and this was not the right thing to do. The UCA President reveals himself as secretly having been powered by a massive AI construct affiliated with a major corporation (think Amazon, but worse). Sam has unwittingly been doing the bidding of this evil AI corporation that hopes to turn humans into complacent drones, buying products and staying alone in their home, isolated but “safe.” It isn’t Western imperialism that Sam should have been worried about, turns out—it was corporate imperialism and the rise of AI. (In this game, the AI has trained itself on the minds of several hundred humans in order to exist, an obvious commentary on the way current-day AI comprises the non-consensually obtained works of so many human artists and writers.)

How do Sam and his friends defeat this AI monstrosity at the end of the game? Just like Sailor Moon would: through the power of love. And specifically, through the power of a love song, complete with a big, goofy dance sequence, because… well, sure, why not?

Death Stranding 2

The song in question is called “BB’s Theme.” This song first appeared in Death Stranding as a tragic lullaby sung by Sam’s father to Sam as a baby, and it gets multiple reprises in Death Stranding 2. The song is about love, both in its most toxic forms and in its most beautiful and pure forms. 

There are actually two characters who sing this song in the game; “BB’s Theme” appears a lot, long before the AI construct gets revealed. One of the characters who performs the song is Higgs, the main antagonist of the game (or at least, he is until the AI reveals itself). Higgs has been absorbed by the AI machine as well, but he has managed to preserve and act upon his own personal aims; he’s obsessed with Sam, Fragile, and Lou, and with the idea of destroying their happy nuclear family. He sings “BB’s Theme” to Sam repeatedly in-game as a form of mockery; it’s as though Higgs knows how meaningful the song was in the first game, in the context of representing a father’s love for a child, and he’s twisting that knife for Sam every time he sings it. Of course, he can only do this because he’s aware he’s in the video game Death Stranding 2, so he “knows” the song from the first game, despite his character never having been there to hear it in its original context.

The lyrics to the song can be interpreted as either sweet or creepy—or both. It’s a lullaby in which the singer encourages the listener to fall asleep, saying they’ll “wait” until the listener awakes and protect them until then. But then, the lyrics become more ominous, with the singer’s description of “waiting” as being something that could literally last forever—“watch that star die / eons without you / I’ll stay with you / in your mind / every single day.” The singer describes being “stranded on the beach,” a clear reference to the in-game Beach that serves as a supernatural, liminal space between life and death.

In Higgs’ case, the song’s lyrics are fitting, because he’s very literally trapped on the Beach, stuck between life and death. Sam is also stuck between life and death, in his own way, because he has the ability to come back to life eternally (he is a video game protagonist, after all). At one point in Death Stranding 2, Higgs captures Sam and kills him over and over again as a form of torture; while doing this, Higgs sings “BB’s Theme” to Sam, and the lullaby’s more ominous implications come into play. Higgs will wait eternally for Sam to “fall asleep” (die) and will always be there when he “wakes” (comes back to life, only to be killed by Higgs again). Higgs also sings the song near the end of the game, before he finally dies—he gets to “fall asleep” to the lullaby at last. But given that he improbably came back from the dead after the first Death Stranding solely to be the antagonist once again in Death Stranding 2, it seems entirely likely that he’ll wake up yet again.

But let’s get back to defeating that AI machine with the power of love. This has to be one of the game’s most confusing and bizarre scenes. After the evil AI reveals itself to Sam and explains its plot to keep humanity under its thumb forever, Sam watches dumbstruck as his friend from the first game, Die-Hardman, shows up out of nowhere and reveals that he was actually helping Sam and Sam’s friends all along from the shadows. Instead of connecting Mexico and Australia to a version of the chiral network that the AI could use to control humanity, Die-Hardman actually gave Sam the means to connect everyone to a different network that the AI can’t control. (This obviously doesn’t make a lot of sense, but whatever.) Perhaps more importantly, Die-Hardman reveals all of this information only after singing and dancing to “BB’s Theme.”

Unlike Higgs’ lullaby version, Die-Hardman’s version is orchestrated and mixed like an electro-pop disco dance party song, not something you could fall asleep to. Die-Hardman dances with energetic enthusiasm throughout, looking directly at the camera and performing for the player as much as for the in-game characters who are also standing there. It’s hilarious and strange, a big comedy moment that unfolds after the AI’s big villain monologue that completely breaks the tension of the moment.

But why is Die-Hardman singing and dancing to “BB’s Theme” before explaining to Sam that he secretly saved the day? Because this is a video game, and it has to have a triumphant and heroic ending, no matter how confusing or improbable it may be. And ultimately, that means the lullaby about the power of love needs to be reclaimed by the heroic characters and shown for what it truly is—a father’s message of love to a child. That’s also ultimately what Death Stranding 2 is about, in that it’s a game in which Sam and his baby Lou are reunited in the end. It’s a song about the purity of human emotion that can never be taken away, certainly not by an evil AI.

This is corny as hell, and I’m not going to argue that it works on any level. It comes off like the developers at Kojima Productions just really needed an ending for this game and couldn’t figure out how to do it. But the version they provide is one that’s pretty damn funny as well, and that’s part of why I’m able to forgive it, in the end. Die-Hardman is doing the equivalent of turning to the camera and telling the player, don’t worry. It’s okay that you had a great time playing this video game. All those questions Sam had about whether what he was doing was morally wrong? They were fair. But don’t worry about it, actually, because Die-Hardman set it up so that it would all turn out fine and you don’t need to feel bad for playing and enjoying this game. And even though I’m not sure this moment works from a narrative perspective, it’s the part of the game that I just can’t stop thinking about. If you can’t figure out how to end your video game, maybe you should just have the characters admit it and start dancing. It makes about as much sense as anything else.


Maddy Myers has worked as a video game critic and journalist since 2007; she has previously worked for Polygon, Kotaku, The Mary Sue, Paste Magazine, and the Boston Phoenix. She co-hosts a video game podcast called Triple Click, as well as an X-Men podcast called The Mutant Ages. When she is not writing or podcasting, she composes electro-pop music under the handle MIDI Myers. Her personal website is midimyers.com.

 
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