'Just a few days ago' I released my non-spoiler video for the Talos Principle. Please please
please watch that one first because it will double my view count. Oh and because this
video might otherwise ruin one of the best experiences from a game that I’ve ever had.
For the first few hours I was quite content completing puzzles and getting congratulated
for it by a Godly voice in the sky. The game’s a few years old now, but those environments
are still beautiful. It felt like some wonderful dream land and, as empty as I knew those locations
were, I still enjoyed venturing through them, puzzle after puzzle. I was pleasantly surprised
when the weather changed, and again when the theme transitioned from ancient Greek/Roman
to something else. But the thing that eventually made this game
special to me was what I disliked the most about it early on. I initially treated those
beeping computer terminals like they were books in Skyrim. That is to say… I ignored
them and skipped through the dialogue. In true Philip fashion, I spent all of a few
seconds picking my responses, thinking nothing more of it until the computer terminal started
using what I had previously said against me, highlighting the contradictions in my arguments
and generally making me feel really inadequate. At this point I suspected that the game might
be about religion VS science! The Godly voice would lovingly tell me to do things but refused
to answer anything, while the computers were cold and calculating, making me question everything
in a brutal, logical fashion. I felt like the game was manipulating me.
Forcing me to pick a side. Regardless of what my beliefs might be, I didn’t like being
dissected about it, especially by something I had previously passed off as nothing more
than a Skyrim book! And especially not by something that kept proving me wrong.
As an example: early on, the computer asks me if a string of tin cans could be conscious.
I say no. But then he asks me if a computer could, provided it could accurately simulate
a brain… and I’m like… yeah, why not. And then he asks me to say what the difference
is between a computer and a string of tin cans. I could have continued to argue semantics,
but I knew already that my defence had been broken. My argument, flawed. You know where
this is going. I fell into its traps, time and time again. This was no longer about my
beliefs- this was about scoring points off that damned computer terminal!
I hadn’t had such heated debates since I argued with myself last week.
Being the Youtube comment warrior I am, I couldn’t help but get sucked into these
discussions. I wanted so badly to beat that computer at its own game. But our sessions
were short and time and time again, the computer would say goodbye and I would be forced to
progress further with the puzzles before our next debate could begin.
Back to the puzzles, and that friendly voice congratulating me. Aside from his religious
mumbo jumbo and fixation on puzzle-solving, he seemed like a nice guy. I didn’t want
to distrust him. I didn’t want to betray him. And yet I was finding him increasingly
boring, and those computer terminals, increasingly engaging!
The turning point comes when you discover The Tower. This monstrous, looming structure,
its top hidden in the clouds, sits in the very centre of the world, and that Godly voice,
whose voice is normally so polite and encouraging, suddenly changes as he tells you never to
climb the tower. I can do anything I like but that one thing. And of course, he doesn’t
explain why. ‘YOU MUST NOT ASCEND THE GREAT TOWER FOR
IT SHALL BRING DEATH AND THE END OF YOUR GENERATIONS.’ Well okay, I guess that’s a pretty firm
answer. But come on, you can’t say that without explaining why it will or how. Without
the juicy details it makes me just want to climb it all the more! It’s human nature.
If I wanted to spoil this game, I’d have googled it there and then to figure out whether
I should climb that tower. And in your shoes, I’d keep watching this video! But I did
the right thing. I stuck to the game, adamant that I’d find out for myself. Now, I wasn’t
just waiting for my next computer argument. I was also searching for any clue to the tower,
and whether or not I should climb it. It remains locked until most of the puzzles are completed,
so I had plenty of time to ponder. And my mind began to race. I tried to second-guess
the developers’ intentions. Were they atheist, using the game to convince me to betray a
Godly figure? Or were they religious, using the tower to represent the forbidden fruit
in the garden of Eden? In which case, the tower was a trap and I’d be a fool for climbing
it! I don’t care whether you’re religious
or not- a game that forces you to choose feels like it’s manipulating you. And it’s not
a nice feeling. But I couldn’t help but continue. For the computer debates. For answers
about the tower. And now, to learn the developers’ intentions.
The puzzles are lonely. The worlds are lonely! There are notes scribbled on the walls throughout
this game from many of the previous inhabitants. They all possess their own personalities and
attitudes. Some are rather crazy, some are desperate. One whom I had grown to respect
was Shephard. He possessed excellent puzzle-solving abilities, as well as very intelligent, reassuring
tone. He was like my shepherd, saying that he would do his best to help those who came
after him. I followed in his footsteps. But somewhere, he had gotten trapped and realised
that he could go no further. But these people had long left these lands.
Which are now empty- and didn’t I know it. Occasionally, you uncover voice clips from
a person called Alex. In these recordings, she talks about humanity, mortality, and what
is left behind after you die. What about after all of mankind dies? Is it possible to continue
our legacy? What is important to preserve? And even if any of this matters? At the time
I thought these were pretentious, but listening back to them in order now, I appreciate how
they wonderfully explain everything. Closely tied to the feeling of being alone
is the concept of time. When did Alex record these clips? Weeks ago? Could have been years.
Could have been millennia! It made me feel there was more to this world than met the
eye, as though it had a long and exciting past that was left to me to piece together.
But while these remnants are left behind, you don’t interact with other NPCs. One
of the later puzzle tricks is to record yourself to help future you to solve puzzles. But this
only made me feel lonelier, as I watched my past self rushing about the maps behind me
in a predictable and pre-planned route. And perhaps because of all that, I wanted
to trust that Godly voice. I really did. He seemed like the one friendly entity in this
game- and yet he never gave me any answers. Why wouldn’t he tell me? Was it all just
a test of faith? And I began to ignore him, spending more of
my time actively seeking out and interacting with the computer - even if it was a bit of
a dick. At times, even, a HUGE dick who took great delight in telling me that I was an
idiot. It ended up feeling like an abusive relationship. But at least it gave me the
chance to reply, and warranted what I said with a well-thought-out response! At least
it had some degree of depth to it, rather than the God who began to sound like a broken
record by the end of the game. A friendly, but broken record.
And it was perhaps because the computer was such a dick that it meant so much when it
wasn’t. We had argued and debated. I had my guard up… and then out of nowhere, it
asked me if I’d come back to talk to it again. Or if it could come with me when I
eventually moved on. Was this… sentiment? Just for a moment, it hinted that there was
more to it than cold, calculating logic. And I found myself unexpectedly moved by that.
I am a sentimental person- especially for inanimate objects. Their lack of humanity
leaves more room for me to sympathise with them. I grew up feeling sorry for uneaten
food on my plate, as though I had somehow let it down. I’ve even felt sorry for a
starfish, who, as an unwanted catch, was dumped on the beach by a fishing boat and left to
die at the beaks of seagulls. We took pity on it and put it back in the water. This pleading
tone really got to me. Likewise, I grew to care more for robots in this game than I have
with living creatures in other games! So maybe it’s not coincidence that one of the most
human videogame interactions I’ve had comes from a robot.
Even if it’s an evil eye with a hard-on for arguments, I couldn’t hate it. Its pathetic
bleeps, the fact I voluntarily chose to respond to it… I couldn’t leave it alone by the
end. Just look at it!
Poor thing.
I ended up getting quite emotional about it all, seeing these computer terminals as things
just as lonely and as lost as I was. Eventually, I had most of the keys required
to access the tower. Those last few puzzles were bitter-sweet. They were a test for my
abilities. I should have enjoyed them! And yet I felt the end was nigh. A big decision
was approaching, and I might never return to these places again. It was like I was about
to say goodbye to an old friend and I found myself just standing on the edge of the worlds,
staring out at the mountains and appreciating the game’s awesome soundtrack.
And it is brilliant. Flicking through the game’s music list, there’s not a single
track that doesn’t transport me back to those beautiful, dreamy worlds.
Those later voice clips from Alex moved from the big picture of humanity to the much more
personal, as she talks about her friend’s death, the significance of her own life, then
towards the end of the game, her own impending death. Her audio recordings depicted what
it was to be alive and aware of your existence, and how it’s shaped by the finality of death.
She covered topics we’ve all thought about- it’s just that she had the difficult job
of explaining them all in words. My conversations with the computer terminals
then took an unexpected turn. It was back to its old, argumentative ways. But I had
changed. Perhaps I had grown wiser. The computer terminal’s logic was impeccable- but it
was bound to it. I couldn’t explain some of my decisions or beliefs because, to a computer,
they seemed irrational. That to justify some things in life… you just need a bit of faith.
(Or at least more options to choose from than this game provides!)
And look at this! Whereas I started off barely glancing over the text, here I am, reading
through it SEVERAL TIMES and actually thinking about which answer I was going to go with.
That’s amazing! Not in my 500 hours in Skyrim have I ever done that. Not once! And it felt
like the game respected me for doing it. I was expecting the computer terminal to deliver
some 4D, ultra MENSA-rebuttal to my responses, but slowly and surely, the computer terminal
began to crumble. Began to faulter. This computer, it might think it knows all of the answers,
but it doesn’t believe in anything. Why’s it even bothering to argue such an empty existence?
And I honestly agree! This isn’t about discussing religion or an afterlife any more. This is
about THIS life, and what purpose your existence has. You can see it all as pointless, or about
like, how if you zoom out enough, you become worthless and your actions, meaningless. Or
you put your faith in some kind of afterlife to sort it all out. But doing so doesn’t
make you smart or profound. What’s far better, far more rewarding… and far harder, is to
give THIS life meaning. And that does often require a little bit of faith. And when presented
with this, the computer terminal broke. It couldn’t compute. It became a child throwing
a tantrum in the only ways it knew how! It began tripping over its own arguments and
it got agitated and angry with me. Eventually, I won, and the computer terminal ceased the
debate. It wasn’t like your traditional boss battle, but I felt I had accomplished
more from defeating that computer terminal than I do from beating most games.
Indeed, some things just need a bit of faith. Or at least a fair bit of curiosity.
So I headed to the tower.
God had always been friendly, but I needed more than that. I needed answers. And one
way or another, I felt I’d get them from the top. I ignored his advice and started
to climb. All of my puzzle-solving abilities were put
to the test through a number of rooms that broke the conventional methods that the game
had previously thrown at me. I had to think outside the box in new -and often literal-
ways, and to relearn the rules with which I was playing this game. I had transcended
beyond the game’s confines. I had beaten the computer at its own game, and now was
going against God. And the stories of everybody I had been following
reached their conclusions, too. Other robots spoke of how they had gotten trapped, unable
to progress any further. And the voice clips from Alex grew increasingly desperate as she
became ill. She knew her time was up and wondered if her life had all been for nothing. She
noted her concerns about the simulation and whether it was so flawed that it was unable
to fulfil its purpose. It was sad that she would never know if her life’s work had
been a success- or if she had squandered a life that could have been spent with friends
and family. I still didn’t know how long she had been gone for- but maybe that didn’t
matter anymore. I was absolutely enthralled by this game by
this point. How could I not push on further to see where it was all leading to?
Eventually, I beat the puzzles, and reached the clouds.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
WHY HAVE YOU ASCENDED THE TOWER?
WHY HAVE YOU BETRAYED MY FAITH IN YOU?
TURN BACK, I COMMAND YOU!
…yeah it’s a bit late for that.
I pushed on, through the clouds, eventually emerging at one giant, final puzzle, where
-among others- I found Shephard, the one who had written so many words of advice and guidance
throughout my journey! He was a robot, just like me. And this was as far as he had gotten.
Now it was my turn to help him and I freed him from his box. And we set off together
to end whatever this was. We worked together to overcome barriers and to reach higher and
higher into the sky. As God continued to plead with us, the simulation
below started to collapse, consumed by a violent storm that had erupted in the clouds below.
The only way to go now was up. We took in turns to solve puzzles and to carry
out actions which would let the other reach further, all performed like a dance between
expert puzzle solvers. After having spent the game alone, it was emotional to finally
have a friend- and for them to set everything aside, selflessly heading off down a path
of self-destruction simply to help me to escape this place!
More was said through those silent actions than through any amount of dialogue. I can
just say I greatly appreciated that time I spent working with them towards a united goal.
The music- which had been a huge part of this game all the way through for me- reached dramatic
new levels as the storm picked up and started consuming lower bits of this puzzle, and the
robots whom I had left behind. I owed it to them to reach onwards and to get out of this
place. The storm was raging on beneath. The voice
of God roaring down from above, and in between were robots, working together in silent harmony
to break free of this place as we reached higher and higher into the sky.
Eventually we reached the top, and Shephard remained as brilliant as he had always been,
as he set the stage for me to escape. He could go no further- and we parted ways as I left
him there.
‘PLEASE, STAY HERE, LET THE STORY GO ON FOREVER!’
Then silence!
Everything turned white, and all was explained.
Mankind had been wiped out by a deadly virus. People like Alex had spent their final years
constructing this place in the hope that it would one day spawn life of its own. The Talos
Principle had been one big turing test of sorts. Countless robots had gone before me
and had failed along the way. But sometime before my own adventure, some of these robots
had begun to develop more human traits. Robots like Shephard! But ultimately, I had been
the first to be deemed worthy. I contained a soul, or consciousness, or whatever was
required to enable humanity live on through me. Alex had so many concerns that her project
might never succeed. But I was proof that it had!
God’s voice boomed out. But he wasn’t angry with me.
YOU WERE ALWAYS MEANT TO DEFY ME.
THAT WAS THE FINAL TRIAL.
BUT I WAS… I WAS SCARED.
I WANTED TO LIVE FOREVER.
I arrived at one final, golden computer terminal. At first it acted like it didn’t know me.
But then he returned to his old self, and true to my word, I invited him to come along
with me. But he refused, stating that I’d drive him insane! He was rude, blunt and abrupt.
But I didn’t mind any more. I had grown quite fond of him!
Our experiences, our twisted outlook on this world. We rarely ever agreed about anything.
But we had grown to know each other, through long, philosophical debates and disputes.
Through intellectual battle about everything, from the meaning of it all down to the very
fabric of humanity! So it felt fitting to end it all by telling
him to get bent.
And like that, I transcended.
My consciousness broke free of this computer simulation, uploaded into a physical form.
And the digital worlds I had been through began to shut down.
And then I emerged to a new world, devoid of humans, but through me, humanity would
live on.
Croteam did a spectacular job with the Talos Principle. It’s a tale of what might be
required of a system that preserves humanity, and what that might entail. And while it can
be seen as philosophical and pretentious, it also tells very real stories which I got
utterly engrossed in, to an extent that few games have matched.
If you ever need proof that the value of a game can be measured by something other than
playtime, take it from me- in a dozen hours, the Talos Principle left more of an impression
on me than many games I’ve spent considerably longer in. A lot of gaming experiences blend
together in my mind, but The Talos Principle stands out in a vivid colour, as a strong,
unique blend of music, scenery and story. I’m taking a risk sharing my experiences
with it with you, because you might not have the same experience with it as I did. In fact,
I know you won’t, because on my playthrough, I misinterpreted a few things! A lot of the
information the game can tell you requires you to seek it out. I only covered a small
fraction of what it has to offer, and I didn’t read through and memorise every snippet of
information it gave me. Having looked it up since, there are aspects of its story that
I misinterpreted- but I have told you about it in this video as I perceived it on my first
playthrough. But it begs the question: if my experience meant so much to me, do my misinterpretations
even matter? In fact, isn’t it even more reason for me to explain my experience of
it to you?
Aside from to get some footage for this video, I haven’t returned to the game since I finished
it. I wish to preserve the memories I have of it, undiluted from a second play-through.
Now it’s over, I reminisce about my time in those worlds with the same nostalgia I
feel for a good dream. But this game is not a dream. You can play the Talos Principle
for yourself! You can relive the same puzzles, worlds and story as I did.
But that doesn’t mean that you’ll experience what I did. To help you understand that, I
felt it was important that I made this video. While the Talos Principle attempts to digitally
preserve humanity, this youtube video hopes to digitally preserve my experience of playing
it. I hope that through these audio recordings, I can convey what made it more than just the
sum of its parts. My interpretations may be flawed. My descriptions, limited. But hopefully
it’s enough to preserve the soul of it, in a format that’s no longer bound to my
own existence.
Thank Elohim for Youtube.