"Why live distrusting when you can all die trusting each other to kill one another..."
[ He repeats those words with care, testing how each and every single one feels as it rolls off his tongue. He falls silent after that, staring straight head. He's completely still aside from the clicking of the controller and the rise and fall that comes with each breath, and there's a small, thoughtful sound - there again, little tells that he's giving something more consideration than he usually might, but more pronounced this time. It reminds him of the Floormasters. It reminds them of the Majority Game. It reminds them of that dichotomy between those who trusted and those who trusted that death would come.
It reminds him of the game's purpose. How many times had they wondered? How many times had they asked? And what was it? Well... It was because of a person who had such a deep love that they would have been fine with my own death as long as she won it all. It was because they had seen such charisma- what he's sure would be called hope. It was such a strong desire to see another person live, to see them succeed and overcome all obstacles.
But she died in the final trial.
Years and years, countless efforts, countless sacrifices, countless lives ruined, all for the sake of recreating that hope. People raised from birth for the sole purpose of recreating a single moment in time. He doesn't particularly support it, but nor does Ranger particularly just approve. It's an aim and a goal, it's a decades long effort that will either succeed or fail. It's an attempt to regain what was lost so many years ago, to fill some empty gap in the heart. It's an effort to elevate one single person above the rest no matter what for that singular purpose of seeing them succeed.
He thinks of that, and other things of well. Of a shock to the system, of experimentation and surgery, of technology that serves no purpose other than to benefit its creators, of medical treatments that exist solely to erase the past and to destroy the painful things while holding onto the pleasant and happy ones. He thinks of bitterness and jealousy, of a hatred so strong that it has no choice but to burst forward, that would consume them if another person didn't die in their place.
No matter how cruel it is, no matter how evil and despicable it seems, no matter how many sacrifices must be made or how hated you are.
Ranger thinks on and on, comparing and contrasting, lining things up and declaring each one to be nothing more than a neutral observation. Was it sad, or was it happy? Was it pitiable or despicable? He knows the answers to these things, but the only ones who are allowed to pass that judgment are those who suffered its effects. As for Ranger, none of it seems to particularly matter. Those were personal aims, personal goals, of which only a person could decide.
Even if everyone else despises it, in the end, all that matters is the outcome. It doesn't matter if you have to throw other people under the bus, just as long as you're alive. It doesn't matter how many people die, just as long as you can keep going. But something's wrong with that. Something's wrong with applying that logic, and he has the distinct sense that he's missing something vital.
After an impossibly long time, he seems to come to a conclusion. He wasn't asked for his opinion, but he has the distinct feeling that he's supposed to give it regardless. ]
The outcome, and a person's satisfaction with that outcome, are all that matters. If you succeed and find yourself happy with that outcome, then it was a net positive. If you failed, or if you're not happy after, then it was a failure.
[ He nods once, seeming satisfied with that. ]
So then, are you happy now?
[ The question is neutral, without any particular inclination one way or another. It's the same way that he always asks questions - for the sake of getting an answer, for the sake of finishing his own conclusions on the issue, though in the end it hardly matters. Success meant you could stop, failure meant you kept going. That was it.
Would it be enough if that girl lived? Was it ever enough? But it's fine if it is. ]
WAY MORE THAN HE WAS BEFORE komaeda's just his favorite, he has others
[ He repeats those words with care, testing how each and every single one feels as it rolls off his tongue. He falls silent after that, staring straight head. He's completely still aside from the clicking of the controller and the rise and fall that comes with each breath, and there's a small, thoughtful sound - there again, little tells that he's giving something more consideration than he usually might, but more pronounced this time. It reminds him of the Floormasters. It reminds them of the Majority Game. It reminds them of that dichotomy between those who trusted and those who trusted that death would come.
It reminds him of the game's purpose. How many times had they wondered? How many times had they asked? And what was it? Well... It was because of a person who had such a deep love that they would have been fine with my own death as long as she won it all. It was because they had seen such charisma- what he's sure would be called hope. It was such a strong desire to see another person live, to see them succeed and overcome all obstacles.
But she died in the final trial.
Years and years, countless efforts, countless sacrifices, countless lives ruined, all for the sake of recreating that hope. People raised from birth for the sole purpose of recreating a single moment in time. He doesn't particularly support it, but nor does Ranger particularly just approve. It's an aim and a goal, it's a decades long effort that will either succeed or fail. It's an attempt to regain what was lost so many years ago, to fill some empty gap in the heart. It's an effort to elevate one single person above the rest no matter what for that singular purpose of seeing them succeed.
He thinks of that, and other things of well. Of a shock to the system, of experimentation and surgery, of technology that serves no purpose other than to benefit its creators, of medical treatments that exist solely to erase the past and to destroy the painful things while holding onto the pleasant and happy ones. He thinks of bitterness and jealousy, of a hatred so strong that it has no choice but to burst forward, that would consume them if another person didn't die in their place.
No matter how cruel it is, no matter how evil and despicable it seems, no matter how many sacrifices must be made or how hated you are.
Ranger thinks on and on, comparing and contrasting, lining things up and declaring each one to be nothing more than a neutral observation. Was it sad, or was it happy? Was it pitiable or despicable? He knows the answers to these things, but the only ones who are allowed to pass that judgment are those who suffered its effects. As for Ranger, none of it seems to particularly matter. Those were personal aims, personal goals, of which only a person could decide.
Even if everyone else despises it, in the end, all that matters is the outcome. It doesn't matter if you have to throw other people under the bus, just as long as you're alive. It doesn't matter how many people die, just as long as you can keep going. But something's wrong with that. Something's wrong with applying that logic, and he has the distinct sense that he's missing something vital.
After an impossibly long time, he seems to come to a conclusion. He wasn't asked for his opinion, but he has the distinct feeling that he's supposed to give it regardless. ]
The outcome, and a person's satisfaction with that outcome, are all that matters. If you succeed and find yourself happy with that outcome, then it was a net positive. If you failed, or if you're not happy after, then it was a failure.
[ He nods once, seeming satisfied with that. ]
So then, are you happy now?
[ The question is neutral, without any particular inclination one way or another. It's the same way that he always asks questions - for the sake of getting an answer, for the sake of finishing his own conclusions on the issue, though in the end it hardly matters. Success meant you could stop, failure meant you kept going. That was it.
Would it be enough if that girl lived? Was it ever enough? But it's fine if it is. ]