Performance, Gaze, and Reality In Nier: Automata: A Comparison With Perfect Blue

“I feel that a world in which you only see what you want to see is incomplete.”

—Yoko Taro (Klepek, 2017)

In 1997, a film called Perfect Blue was released. Directed by the late Satoshi Kon, the

film is well known for its unusual elements: Despite being an animated work, the film’s

presentation is simultaneously realistic and dreamlike, with sequences that encourage viewers to

question whether what is on the screen is actually happening. Character designs are lifelike, and

the film has been compared to, and has in fact inspired, true live-action works. The film follows

a female Japanese idol that quits her role to become an actress and begins to lose her grip on

reality as a deranged fan begins to stalk her in the wake of her decision to change her career. Of

particular note is the film’s emphasis on performance and gender, with its protagonist navigating

expectations of female gender roles during her time as both idol and actress under the controlling

influence of a (male) audience. Although a seemingly unrelated work, Nier: Automata shares

themes and a scene that is strikingly similar, to the extent that the title may very well have taken

direct inspiration from the aforementioned film. More than anything, it is the similarities in how

both works portray themes of performance via their own respective pairs of characters that

justifies comparison between the two. In Perfect Blue, this is chiefly done through the stalker and

the protagonist, Mima Kirigoe, while in Nier: Automata this is most apparent in the connection

between 9S and 2B, whose relationship is startlingly similar to that of idol and fan. In this

analysis, I will argue that Perfect Blue and Nier: Automata share core themes by comparing their

main characters, as well as through a close reading of scenes from both works that appear to
share similarities. After establishing a thematic connection, I will utilize that as a foundation

through which I will expand upon Nier: Automata’s themes of reality.

Before launching into a comparison between Perfect Blue and Nier: Automata, it would

be prudent to begin with an analysis of several characters from the original Nier to highlight the

series’ connection with the themes of Perfect Blue. Much like Nier:Automata, the original is set

in a post-apocalyptic world and follows the titular Nier, a girl named Yonah, as well as several

side characters. One of these, an individual named Kaine, is ostracized by her village. Their

appearance is quite notable; clad in exceptionally revealing clothes, their character design is by

far one of the most overtly sexualized. Although not made absolutely apparent in the game

proper, it has been confirmed by Yoko Taro himself that Kaine was actually intersex. This offers

an explanation for both their rejection on the part of their village as well as their appearance. It is

possible that their manner of dress is in response to their nature as intersex—at first ashamed at

their appearance, it could be read as Kaine’s desire to be seen as attractive rather than as an

aberration. In other words, Kaine is highly conscious of their own appearance and of how others

see them to the extent that it has shaped how they live.

On the other hand, Emil, a boy that lives alone in a manor, has the ability to turn those he

gazes at to stone. Ashamed at this ability, Emil wears a blindfold to protect others from his own

gaze. His shame as a result of this power forms a large part of his character, and is a

commonality with which he and Kaine are able to see eye-to-eye. In one exchange between the

two, Kaine says this:

“Your eyes are not a sin. They’re a vital part of you. Do you understand?”
 For Kaine, as well as Emil, this is an important line. Having lived their life ostracized by

others for their appearance, it follows that Kaine should feel threatened by the gaze of others.

Emil is a literal manifestation of the effect that simply viewing others can have—for all of us, the

way we look at others has the potential to hurt and shape the way people behave, and Emil’s eyes

are an extreme version of the damage this can result in: In his case, looks can kill. For Kaine,

Emil is a metaphor for the village that rejected her, and yet she is able to accept his existence.

This comes to a head in a dramatic scene at the end of the first half of Nier. To save

others from a shade, Kaine asks Emil to strip off his blindfold and petrify her, thereby sealing

away the enemy and keeping their friends safe. Just as the villagers influenced Kaine’s own

dress, Emil, by looking at Kaine and turning her into a statue, will define Kaine’s appearance

forever (or at least until part 2). The player, and Emil himself, are effectively given no choice in

the matter. There are only two selectable options: “Petrify Kaine and seal away the shade,” and

“Do nothing and be annihilated.” The scene is a metaphor for the struggles both characters have

endured. Kaine and Emil, to some extent, learn to accept the necessity of the human gaze, and

that while it can cause great damage, it is a necessary and unavoidable part of us.

Nier: Automata features the gazes of multiple entities throughout its story. The

organization of YoRHa itself, an android force based on synthetic beings, was created in

humanity’s image. The androids’ idealized bodies are no coincidence from both a watsonian and

doyalist perspective. In-universe, humanity consciously chose the form the androids have taken,

thereby using their own gaze to exert control over their creations, while from a meta perspective,

the androids were designed to be appealing as a product made for consumers. If 2B’s fame

before the game’s launch is considered, then evidently this was a success. Despite his word, I do

not believe that Yoko Taro simply chose to create a work with beautiful women because of his
own preferences (although those may have played a part), rather I believe that this is a form of

commentary on the effect the human gaze has on those under it.

The androids perform under the gaze of multiple entities: Firstly, under that of humanity.

Secondly, under that of the player. And finally, under the watchful eye of themselves. Let us take

a moment to understand how the androids perform under their own “gaze”. YoRHa, as an

organization, is self-regulating. Its members are constantly under watchful scrutiny as to whether

they have found out the truth about humanity and are still loyal to the group’s cause. Aside from

the main story, this topic is tackled directly by the side-quest “YoRHa Betrayers.” In it, 2B and

9S are tasked with destroying disloyal former members of YoRHa. Although little context is

given for their betrayal at the time, the player later can infer the reasoning based on late-game

reveals. The point is thus: The androids themselves are not exclusively under the control of

humanity. Humanity is not, strictly speaking, enforcing the loyalty of their creations. Rather this

is something that the androids do themselves, of their own volition. The androids are certainly

oppressed, but this is a sort of self-oppression done with a certain amount of agency. They have

invented their own “gaze,” suffering under their own ideal of what an android should be. They

are simultaneously village and intersex, oppressor and the oppressed, audience and performer.

Let's return to the comparison between Perfect Blue and Nier: Automata—namely the

relationship between Mima Kirigoe and her stalker and how that relates to 2B and 9S. In the

story of Perfect Blue, Mima Kirigoe is a beloved idol that attempts to transition to a career of

acting, to the displeasure of her stalker known as “Mi-mania.” Although much of the film

follows the torment and distress that Mima is exposed to, due in large part to Mi-mania, their

relationship at the beginning of the film, when Mima is still an idol, is anything but adversarial.

While perhaps easy to ignore, there is an early scene that solidifies the initial relationship
between the two as nearly symbiotic. On stage, Mima is confronted by hecklers, who throw

items and disrupt her performance. Surprisingly, it is none other than the grizzly-looking Mi-

mania that comes to her rescue, turning the hecklers away. It is a short, simple scene that is

somewhat forgettable, but in this moment, Mi-mania is no threatening stalker: He is a stalwart

protector, although exactly who or what he is a protector of is more difficult to define. As the

film progresses, and Mima announces her retirement as an idol, the camera rests for a moment on

Mi-mania, who wears a rather blank expression. From that point on, he indeed takes on the

profile of a frightening stalker, striking fear and paranoia in the heart of Mima. It is the change in

Mima from innocent idol to sultry actress that causes such drastic change in the behavior of Mi-

mania.

It is necessary to highlight some aspects of idol culture in simple terms in order to frame

this aforementioned change in character. Japanese idols, for the most part, are meant to project

an appearance of youthful innocence to their audiences. Beautiful, yes, but “sexy” would perhaps

be too much in the eyes of their fans. For most idols, including Mima, extreme nudity is out of

the question. Furthermore, such idols are noted for their promotion as approachable individuals

rather than as the unattainable celebrity. They are individuals you could meet on the street; ”the

girl next door”. For many, there is a genuine, down-to-earth connection between idol and fan—

or at the least that is what the industry hopes to achieve. For Mi-mania, it is this loss of

connection that he finds so unbearable.

Mima’s actions in the wake of her retirement fly in the face of what an ideal idol should

be. She’s filmed in risque outfits, appears in a gravure magazine, and even appears in a rape

scene. For Mi-mania, these are no mere changes—they are an outright attack on his reality.

Delusional, he refuses to accept Mima’s new behavior as herself, instead viewing her as an
impostor, a threat to the “real” Mima Kirigoe. To Mi-mania, perhaps the most painful aspect of

Mima’s evolution from innocence to maturity is that it voids the connection he may well have

felt with her. Without the “real” Mima by his side, he is left alone in a false reality. If he is not

interested in protecting Mima as she is, and only in one variation of her, perhaps he indeed lives

up to the name “Mi-mania”—a pun on “Me-mania”—in that he is interested in protecting himself

via his interpretation of reality. Ultimately, his protection desperately needs Mima to conform to

a certain “gaze” before offering patronage.

Let us compare this relationship to that of 2B and 9S. During routes A and B, their

relationship is friendly, and much like with Mi-mania, somewhat symbiotic. As a team, 2B and

9S work to support each other in combat, taking on roles that only each of them can fill, and on

multiple occasions entrust a great deal to each other. If one pays attention however, it is in their

first confrontation with A2 in which potential cracks in their relationship show. Upon meeting

her, 9S asks the following:

“Why did you betray us?” (Emphasis mine)

Who is “us”? Although the obvious assumption is that he is asking why A2 betrayed

YoRHa, there is another possibility. In one of the game’s final scenes, A2 accuses 9S of being

aware of 2B’s real designation all along, to which he responds:

“What do you know? You don’t know anything at all about us!”

Instead of referring to A2’s betrayal of YoRHa, I believe 9S, in his reference to “us”, is

instead subconsciously referring to the multiple versions of himself that have been destroyed by

2B. When he asks A2 the aforementioned question, he does so because he sees A2 as 2B’s
shadow, and thus aspects of himself that he suppressed, such as the fact that he is aware of 2B’s

actions from the start, surface in subtle ways. By asking A2 these questions, he is really asking

why 2B has continuously betrayed him.

Let me explain what I mean when I refer to A2 as 2B’s “shadow”. As A2 states, 9S, on

some level, is aware of the actions that 2B is forced to take to ensure he does not find out the

truth about humanity. However, this knowledge seems to remain somewhat “dormant,” locked

within a corner of his mind that would rather not acknowledge the adversarial aspect of his

relationship with 2B. Even over the course of the game, 9S willingly yields his life to 2B when

the situation calls for it, showing that he is resigned to the act if necessary for one reason or

another.

What could this reason be? There is a measure of ambivalence with regards to how 9S

reacts to 2B’s repeated acts of violence toward him. On one hand, his relationship with A2

suggests a certain discontent with the situation, but on the other, the player witnesses multiple

instances of willing sacrifice from him. One explanation could be that 9S’s main reasoning for

his sacrifices is that he is simply that devoted to YoRHa’s cause—humanity itself—but 9S’s

character remains relatively unchanged for the brief time he is aware of humanity’s demise to

2B’s death. During this time, he continues to serve YoRHa without wavering in spite of his

newfound, forbidden knowledge. Instead, there is another possibility for his willful cooperation.

In ending C, during the text sequence, we are able to see into 9S’s thoughts:

“I was anxious. A soldier from the moment I was born, thrown into the world alone.

Nothing to rely on. No god to believe in.

the flames. Alone.”

9S has known nothing but the hardship of combat, a task that he finds terribly lonesome.

Then, 2B enters the stage:

“I was so happy to be with someone. It was like I had a family.”

2B provides companionship for 9S, something he longs for to the extent that he willingly

yields his life in service of his relationship with her. He is conflicted, torn between his affection

toward 2B and her continuous betrayal. Additionally note the mention of family, which is a

recurring theme in Nier: Automata. Interestingly, the game seems particularly interested in what

happens when such bonds are broken. A scene at the beginning of route B provides additional

context for the conflict present in 9S’s mind. In it, a machine attempts to repair a broken, inactive

counterpart that it refers to as its “brother.” Overlooking the scene, 9S remarks:

“Doesn’t matter how much oil you give him little guy. You can’t make a machine your

brother.”

This hypocritical dialogue is more suggestive of 9S’s insecurities than it is applicable to

the machines in the scene. One can easily imagine this is a reaction to his own dissatisfaction

with the truth behind his relationship with 2B. This, along with the other aforementioned

dialogue suggest that 2B is not just a beloved companion of 9S, he also values the idea of

personal, familial connection with her. 9S allows himself to be killed less out of a sense of duty

than to preserve the continuity of his relationship with 2B. 9S may indeed be “trapped in a never-

ending cycle of life and death,” but as long as that means he is able to remain by her side, he is
able to abide by the required conditions. And yet acknowledging the truth of the situation would

void his relationship with 2B—she would no longer be the “family” that he so treasures.

Ultimately, it is the bond that 9S shares with 2B that he truly values, regardless of whether or not

the truth behind that reality is false. To preserve that bond, 9S must continually accept death.

Here too, a sort of “gaze” factors into this situation. 9S is dependent upon his perceived

reality, and is clearly insecure over its frayed edges, as his aforementioned quotes show. Not

only that, it may be time to address the elephant in the room, so to speak. While an android, 2B is

modeled after the figure of an ideal human female, and 9S’s relationship with her may not be

strictly speaking selfless and innocent. During 9S’s mental confrontation with Adam, he is

bombarded with a number of accusations. To begin:

“All who live are slaves to desire.” And of course:

“You’re thinking about how much you want to **** 2B, aren’t you?

Let me be clear. There is no definite answer to what has been redacted; there are

numerous possibilities. Further, I do not believe that contemplating the answer may even be the

point of the line. Rather, I think that we are primarily meant to consider why we choose to “fill

in” the answers that we do; if we believe the answer to be “fuck,” for instance, why do we

believe that? In other words, I believe the line is meant to invite inward analysis of our own

thoughts rather than on itself. With that said, however, there are indeed multiple ways to read

this line. Considering the context—that in this moment Adam is accusing 9S of being subject to

uncontrolled desire—I will postulate that an aspect of this line alludes to 9S’s selfish desire

toward 2B. In a sense, 9S’s need to maintain his certain perception of 2B is self-serving. He does

not allow her the freedom to be who she truly is. Instead, she is more of a tool to satisfy his need
for companionship, even if that means refusing to acknowledge part of her as truth. Furthermore,

as mentioned earlier, 2B’s figure is so ideal as to garner fame even in real life. Although their

interactions are fairly chaste during the game, this line may allude to the sexualized place that 2B

nonetheless maintains within 9S’s mind, with the interesting implication that gender is also a

factor in how 9S perceives 2B. It must be said: 9S’s relationship with 2B relies on his selective

acknowledgement of the aspects of 2B that he finds palatable. He does not view her as a whole,

and as we see in the game, doing so results in violent rejection of the reality he is confronted

with.

Even before the events of routes C and D, I believe there is still a measure of resentment

embedded in this relationship. This comes to a head after the fall of YoRHa and immediately

following the death of 2B. Earlier, I mentioned that A2, at least to 9S, is the “shadow” of 2B.

Within his mind, deep in his subconscious, 9S is aware of 2B’s true designation and actions.

When A2 kills 2B, 9S reacts with rage, because from his perspective, not only has he lost his

companion, he has lost the reality she represents. Although A2 may be the perpetrator of 2B’s

death, to 9S, it’s as if 2B herself has destroyed this reality. Thus, 9S’s rage is directed not only at

the literal loss of 2B, but at 2B herself, and he comes to direct this frustration at A2. 9S’s

relationship with A2 is the manifestation of the latent rage he feels toward 2B. To reflect this

fact, A2 even trims her hair, so that she is even closer in appearance to the deceased 2B. Much

like Mima Kirigoe’s transition from idol to actress, the death of 2B at the hands of A2 is the

moment wherein 9S turns on the individual he once knew. Although ostensibly to avenge 2B,

9S’s pursuit of A2 later in the story can also be summarized as an attempt to find revenge for

2B’s actions with A2 as his proxy. One could go as far as to say that the aggression 9S displays

toward A2 late in the game is in fact a story of aggression against his beloved 2B. A2 might have
nothing to do with the cycle of life and death 9S was trapped in, but to 9S, she resembles 2B

enough for him to associate them together. Thus, after 2B’s death, A2 could be thought of as

analogous to Mima’s identity after she transitions from idol to actress—the shadow of another

individual.

There are striking similarities in the relationships Mima and 2B have with their respective

partners. Both are initially mutually beneficial but sour later on. The positive aspects in each

relationship are predicated on the warped perceptions Mi-mania and 9S have of that which is the

object of their desire. Additionally, the downturn in each relationship is preceded by a sort of

“metamorphosis” of Mima and 2B into something else; an actress for the former and A2 for the

latter. The progression of each relationship over the course of each respective work is

fundamentally the same. On this basis alone, a comparison between Perfect Blue and Nier:

Automata would be warranted. But the similarities deepen further, right down to a scene in the

latter that appears to reflect direct influence from the former.

Let’s examine the version of the scene present in Perfect Blue. Having transitioned from

idol to actress, Mima begins participating in roles on various television shows. The roles she

participates in are both unflattering and risque’, ranging from a rape scene to photos in a gravure

magazine. Disturbingly, people involved in her works are attacked, such as the writer of one of

her shows, who has his eyes gouged out. In another violent scene, which is also the one under

examination, the audience is shown one of these attacks as it occurs. The photographer for a

magazine Mima appears in—a man—is viciously attacked by an assailant with a screwdriver,

which is driven into his eyes and groin. The man stumbles back, pursued by his assailant, and is

repeatedly stabbed while straddled by his attacker, who is revealed to be Mima herself. As she

continues stabbing him, nude images of Mima flash by, likely from a previous photoshoot with
the photographer. Concurrently with Mima’s assault, a clip of the photographer straddling Mima

as he photographs her is shown on screen. The scene ends, and Mima wakes up in her room, but

does not remember perpetrating the attack when she is informed of its occurrence. She is left to

question her sanity. The scene is ambiguous as to who in fact committed the crime—was it truly

Mima, or was it someone else?

There are some commonalities between these murders that are important to emphasize.

Both the writer and photographer are involved in portrayals of Mima following her debut as an

actress. Secondly, they both sustain injuries to interesting organs, namely the eyes and groin. To

connect these two points and explain their meaning, it is necessary to address the following

questions: Why were these attacks perpetrated, and having answered this question, what is the

identity of the attacker?

First, let us operate under the assumption that the attacker was someone besides Mima.

Mi-mania is the first obvious possibility. Displeased with her roles and image following her

transition to actress, the writer for her television show and her photographer make for sensible

targets. In a sense, it is these men that are responsible for molding her into the figure she now

represents, and so for Mi-mania, who resents Mima’s current character, they become objects of

revenge. There is an interesting layer to his motivation: From Mi-mania’s perspective, who

treasures who Mima once was, these attacks could be read as a form of protection. To him, he

remains the stalwart knight, defender of Mima; by killing these individuals who have so sullied

her, his idol’s innocence is preserved. But once again, this protection is no mere selflessness.

Rather, Mi-mania is attempting to exert control over the identity Mima is able to take on, so that

she might return to being the innocent, virginal idol he so cherished.

alternatively be Rumi Hidaka, Mima’s agent. Much of what constitutes Mi-mania’s motivation

applies to Rumi as well. Like Mi-mania, Rumi seeks to protect Mima and objects strongly

against her participation in the rape scene. Additionally, her desire to protect Mima is similarly

self-serving. At the film’s climax, a delusional Rumi attacks Mima, envisioning herself as the

“true” Mima. In her past, Rumi was once an idol like Mima, and so utilizes Mima as a cypher

through which she is able to revive her former self, thus perceiving Mima’s career

transformation as a personal attack.

Lastly and perhaps most interestingly, let’s explore the possibility of Mima being the

perpetrator, or at least why it is in fact her who the film portrays as the attacker. For Mima, just

as with Mi-mania and Rumi, committing the act is a matter of protection—of self-defense in her

case. Fascinatingly, there is a part of Mima that empathizes with Mi-mania’s and Rumi’s desire

to maintain her identity as an idol. It is not solely Mi-mania and Rumi that Mima is terrorized

throughout the movie by; rather it is her own specter—her shadow—that torments her. In the

finale of the film, Mima is pursued by a homicidal Rumi, but Mima delusionally perceives Rumi

as her own self, clad in the frilly dress she once wore as an idol. This is because there is a part of

Mima that has not fully come to terms with her own self-transformation. Her transition to actress

can alternately be seen as both a sign of independence—that of an individual taking charge of the

direction of their own career—or as a situation of oppression imposed by those around her. Thus,

from a feminist point of view, the murder of the writer of her show, who levied a rape scene on

her, as well as the vicious killing of her photographer, who took shockingly risque pictures of her

body, can be seen as a sort of cathartic, self-asserting undertaking. As Mima drives the

screwdriver into the eye of her oppressor, she reclaims her lost identity by force. From this
perspective, the scene is, at its core, an unbridled act of self-determination. And yet there is an

ambivalence to this; the actions of her dreamlike counterpart also terrify her for one reason. That

is, beyond anyone else, even the men that coerced her into doing things against her will, it is

Mima herself that is responsible for her own transformation, her own choice to abandon her

identity as an idol. In other words, this act is indeed a matter of “protection” in the sense that it is

about protecting her own reality via her identity. But in doing so, she also makes an attack on her

current identity as an actress. Mima herself is scared after learning of the incident, and the

repeated killing of individuals surrounding her amounts to an attack on her career. Therefore, this

act is as much a matter of self-defense as it is self-destructive. Mima Kirigoe is a character of

two parts: Innocent idol and sultry actress, and to preserve herself means denying half of her as

well. Like the organization of YoRHa, of all the gazes she operates under, it is her own that is

most oppressive.

By murdering the aforementioned individuals, each of these characters manages to

protect their own respective reality. It is no mistake that their eyes are targeted; the eyes are the

principal method through which we perceive reality. In destroying their eyes, these individuals

are able to wrestle control of reality away and mold it to their liking. For all three, this means

returning Mima to her status as idol. It is for this reason that the groin is also attacked; as a

symbol of male sexuality, the groin, like the eyes, is a way through which the photographer is

able to perceive, and frame, Mima. By destroying it, his attacker removes the method through

which he can perceive Mima as anything but virginal and innocent, further controlling Mima’s

identity. Above all, this scene could be described as a messy attempt at self-determination via the

control of reality, an attempt that simultaneously requires the denial of it.

attempting to hack and destroy a machine power source, 9S finds himself in a virtual world. In it,

he comes to a wall of images—a manifestation of his memories, as well as a representation of

2B’s data in the form of her figure. 9S reaches out and says the following:

“I know these are just memories…but still.”

Suddenly, the images shimmer and vanish, as 9S begs for it to stop. 2B’s figure then

transforms into an enemy resembling a black mass. 9S begins to combat the adversary,

demanding it to leave his memories alone. Upon victory, he straddles the enemy, repeatedly

stabbing it over and over as he cries:

“They’re mine! They’re my memories, you hear me?!”

As he continues stabbing, the figure under 9S changes from a black mass to 2B herself,

whose lifeless body he continues to assault. The scene switches back to reality from the virtual

world mid-downthrust, and 9S is left with his sword stuck in the machine power source as the

scene ends.

9S, having lost 2B, the part of her that he refuses to acknowledge, that of her true

designation as 2E, begins to creep into his consciousness. 9S’s reality is under siege, so he reacts

violently when his memories—that which constitutes that reality, are threatened. His rage and

aggression in this scene reflect the degree to which this reality is important to him. 9S’s efforts to

vanquish the enemy in this scene are both an attempt to protect the sanctity of his relationship to

2B by maintaining his memories,as well as an attempt to exact revenge on her for violating that

very relationship. This is the meaning of his assault on 2B’s corpse. The “memories” he refers to
have a dual meaning: They refer to both his relationship with 2B as a trusted companion as well

as to the memories he is forced to give up whenever he is killed by her. For her contribution to

his memories as well as her hand in their erasure, she is both a cherished companion worthy of

protection and a hated adversary deserving of his vengeance.

Additionally, I will argue that in the scene under examination, as well as in the entirety of

the third route in general, 9S’s actions, which amount to a desire to preserve the reality that he

lost, also have a self-destructive aspect to them. Throughout routes A and B, 9S outwardly

displays nothing but willingness to sacrifice himself at the hands of 2B, but in truth these acts are

partially selfish. They are in service of preserving his cherished reality, and to do so means

denying aspects of both himself and 2B. After the destruction of the bunker, the violence 9S

commits against A2 and the machines even though the war has been all but lost is a mission to

restore his lost reality, and while vengeance against A2 forms part of that mission, his own death

is also a vital aspect of it. His continued demise—the forgetting of certain memories—has

always been intrinsic to maintaining his former reality. In a sense, by risking his life in routes C

and D, 9S succeeds 2B in her duty to kill him.

At the core of both scenes under examination is the desire for self-determination via the

preservation of one’s reality. By killing the photographer and 2B, Mima and 9S respectively

overthrow their “oppressors,” so to speak. At the same time, there is a strange wrinkle to these

acts of self-determination; both require the ignoring or censorship of certain aspects of reality, a

fact that results in a form of self-destruction. For Mima, protecting her identity as an idol is

inseparable from denying her self as an actress, and vice versa. This is why, in her imagination,

she is hounded by her own double: She is ambivalent over her own identity and cannot reconcile

her two halves. She is locked is a zero-sum game, where siding with one aspect of her split
identity comes at the expense of the other. The chase scene at the finale of Perfect Blue

exemplifies this struggle; envisioning her pursuer in the image of her past self, the film implies

that a part of Mima empathizes with the destruction of her current self as an actress. Preserving

one of her realities comes at the expense of another; to her, self-determination and self-

destructiveness are two sides of the same coin.

As stated earlier, 9S shares in this inescapable proclivity for self-destruction. Although

2B may be the direct instrument of his demise on multiple occasions, his own willingness to give

his life should be emphasized. Just as Mima must extinguish part of herself for the sake of her

other half, to protect some memories, 9S sacrifices others, and the continued loss of part of his

identity manifests in some interesting ways throughout the story—in the form of censorship.

Although I already referenced Adam’s famous, accusatory line toward 9S earlier in this analysis,

there are multiple ways to interpret the line, and it bears mentioning here as well. This time, I do

not aim to speculate about what word specifically belongs in the censored portion. Instead, the

reasoning behind the censorship itself is what I wish to focus on. As we learn at the end of the

game, 9S has chosen to voluntarily “forget” his knowledge of 2B’s true purpose in order to

preserve his reality. In addition, we are aware of 9S’s willingness to sacrifice himself to 2B for

this purpose. Like the organization of YoRHa itself in the hunting of those which it perceives as

“traitors”, he willfully erases the part of reality he cannot accept, censoring it from his

consciousness. Adam’s line so disturbs 9S because it is suggestive of a reality that he has chosen

to reject, and so just as he has done with his perception of 2B, and his own life, he transfigures

its most heretical content into an innocuous “****”. I also speculate that this could be the reason

behind why 9S fights a black mass during the scene of him stabbing 2B. At first, it takes her

form; it should be remembered that he is literally fighting 2B’s data. The reason her data takes on
the form of a black mass is because 9S still refuses to acknowledge 2B’s adversarial duty against

him. Her final transformation back into 2B as 9S stabs her represents his inability to completely

ignore the truth behind her identity. This censorship—the outright erasure of part of reality—

present in both Perfect Blue and Nier: Automata, is inextricably linked to self-destruction, taking

a punishing toll on the consciousness of both Mima and 9S.

Between Yorha, Mima, and 9S, there is a desire to control perception of reality that

comes at a personal cost to each. The self-inflicted nature of their efforts is worth expounding on.

While it can be argued that each is influenced by outside parties, the prevailing theme is that

although each party suffers under their efforts to preserve reality, they are not necessarily being

coerced. Androids might have been created in humanity’s image and “designed to protect (their)

human masters” as A2 says, but those masters have long since vanished. Rather, the androids

have naturally come to psychologically rely on the existence of humanity, so that serving them is

done of their own will. When the commander is confronted by 9S as to why the truth has been so

guarded, she replies that “No one fights without a reason.” It does not reference any sense of

duty toward humanity, but rather consideration for androids themselves. Mima’s distress stems

chiefly from none other than her own counterpart. In the case of 9S, while he may be technically

unable to escape death from 2B, he comes to submit to her without a struggle. The message is

thus: While outside forces might contribute to how we behave, we often come to adhere to these

forces with genuine earnestness, adopting them as our own. Even alone, without an audience, we

perform for ourselves. Sometimes the most oppressive gaze of all happens to be that of our own.

Before continuing, there is one last perspective I want to touch on—that of 2B herself.

This analysis has so far focused on how 9S sees 2B, but in return 2B has her own way of

perceiving 9S; a gaze of her own. While at times cold toward him, 2B exhibits moments that
betray a liking for her partner. In an easily missed piece of dialogue, her true feelings are made

clear:

“9S...the time I was able to spend with you...it was like memories of pure light.”

It is clear that 2B treasures the time she was able to spend with 9S, regardless of her duty.

According to A2, she “hated” killing him. By doing so, her actions form a sort of metaphor for

the exact effect a person’s gaze can have on another: Every time 9S steps out of bounds, his life

is extinguished, and so he cannot express his full character. Her repeated killing acts like the

straightjacket of societal expectations, not unlike that which Mima lives under as an entertainer.

2B cares for him, yet must sculpt him into a form that is acceptable. In the same way that 9S

cannot bear to view 2B for who she truly is, 2B is also unable to see 9S in his entirety.

In this sense, direct comparisons can be drawn from 2B’s killing to Emil’s eyes. In fact,

one can even consider Emil’s petrification of Kaine as a sister scene to 2B’s killing of 9S at the

end of routes A and B. The setups are similar; both characters are tasked with killing someone

close to them against their will to avoid certain annihilation. Here, it may finally be worth

discussing the blindfolds the androids wear. While some ideas have been proposed behind their

meaning, such as that they signify the characters’ ignorance to the truth of humanity’s extinction,

this does not quite make sense, as 9S continues to wear his blindfold deep into route C. Instead, I

believe the true symbolism is likely related to the topic of the gaze. 2B and Emil both wear

blindfolds, but both pieces of clothing are absent when each are forced to kill their companion.

Just as Emil petrifies Kaine, preserving her figure in stone, 2B is forced to reset 9S (or at least

believes he will be reset), preventing him from ever evolving. The visuals of 9S’s death even

evoke the look of turning to stone; as he dies, part of his body turns into warped metal. With her
blindfold off, she sees 9S through eyes that only permit him to exist in a certain form. While

Emil’s eyes are able to petrify and kill, a metaphor for the power of the human gaze, 2B’s duty

as 2E forces her to function in much the same way. Having lost his memories again and again,

9S is like a stone statue to 2B. Precious, but never-changing.

Selfish Devotion

The central conflict in Nier: Automata has been repeatedly compared to a religious war,

with the machines and androids ostensibly fighting over which gods—their creators—get to

assume control over the Earth. This conflict can alternately be phrased as a war over reality

itself, with many characters attempting to establish control over their own interpretation of

reality. There is a veneer of selflessness here, brought out via a consistent theme of revenge. 9S

is an obvious example, who hunts A2 for her killing of 2B. YoRHa itself is also apparently

fuelled by the same notion, made clear in a speech given by the Commander to her troops:

“Remember your pain. The pain of having your homeland stolen. We will never give up

our struggle. We will take back the seas, the skies, the land! We will take back our world from

the scourge of the machines!”

YoRHa ostensibly exists to exact revenge on humanity’s behalf. But revenge as a

concept, even when done in service of another, is a selfish act, especially when that which it is

done for no longer exists. Killing A2 won’t bring 2B back to life, and winning the war against

the machines means nothing when humanity has long passed. Eulogies are not for the dead, but

for the living, and likewise these acts of revenge are not to the benefit of 2B and humanity but to

the avengers themselves. Whose pain? Whose homeland? While some androids themselves

existed, YoRHa itself did not exist at the onset of the machine war. Did the seas, the skies, or the
land ever truly belong to the androids in the first place? YoRHa, a force in service of humanity,

is conflating its own suffering with that of humanity’s. Humanity’s suffering has become their

suffering, despite the fact that the legitimacy of their claim to the Earth itself is rather tenuous.

Why do the androids even deserve to call themselves humanity’s successors? The conflict

has been called both a religious war and a proxy war, and at the outset of the game its status as

the latter does indeed appear to be the case from humanity’s perspective, with the androids acting

on behalf of their masters. But as we find out, the position of controller and tool is not so clear-

cut. Humanity is gone, and the androids have kept the memory of humanity alive for their own

benefit. The machines have destroyed their masters and now wish to learn from humanity

instead. In fact, the conflict is not a religious war or a proxy war as we might first perceive it. We

begin the game believing that the androids are the proxy, but this goes both ways; humanity is

also the proxy by which both the machines and androids derive their reality. The purpose of the

war is not only to enable humanity to re-inherit the Earth, it is to determine which party has the

right to be humanity’s successor. Humanity has become the tool, a husk through which synthetic

life is to live.

This theme of proxies permeates Nier: Automata. Again, 9S’s relationship with 2B is at

least partially self-serving. His concept of self depends on her to the extent that she qualifies as

his own proxy. The unconvinced can refer to a certain scene in the game, after 9S enters the

tower. In it, 9S has just finished combat with a multitude of 2B models and lies wounded on the

ground, having lost an arm, next to an unconscious copy of 2B. Looking at the body of his

former companion, he brings her lifeless hand to his face, caressing it. This scene of tenderness

is interrupted when he violently tears 2B’s forearm from her body, grafting it onto his own. The

scene is a metaphor for how essential 2B is to 9S’s self-concept. He desperately needs her to
symbolize affection, and for that reason he uses the medium of that affection—her arm—and

literally makes it a part of him. Like Yorha lives through humanity, 9S lives through 2B, and so

an attack on 2B as he understands her amounts to an attack on himself. It is for this reason that

A2 severs the arm from 9S’s body in ending C. In-universe, this is because it is the source of a

virus that has infected 9S, but from a thematic standpoint, the arm is symbolic of 9S’s unhealthy

reliance on 2B. Thus, when A2 cuts it from 9S’s body, she divorces him from the object of his

dependence.

Although this analysis is by no means exhaustive of the proxy relationships present in the

game, there is a final example that deserves mention: That of the player and the playable

character. When we play games, we take on the identities of others, be they heroes, villains,

animals—or androids. We do so as an escape; for a moment, we can forget about the hardships

of reality and spend time playing in another. Despite the existence of games without killing, in

that alternate reality, there is often a force we must commit violence against in order to proceed.

Like the warring factions in Automata and 9S, we must vanquish something in order to maintain

this alternate reality. This might be an enemy in the game, but there is another identity we must

temporarily extinguish: that of our own. Just as 9S, the androids, and Mima destroy part of

themselves for the sake of one reality, we must stifle part of ourselves to live in another. For a

fleeting instant, we are not us, but rather someone else. And yet we play for our own benefit, to

be stronger than in real life, to be an ideal, to forget our own troubled world. Victory in video

games is not for the characters we live within, it is for ourselves. By living through a proxy, the

androids, 9S, and the player ultimately aggrandize themselves.

And yet this self-aggrandizement requires another identity to act as a channel; it cannot

be done alone. When the androids are torn from their proxy, they cannot live for themselves.
YoRHa’s policy of killing those that discover the truth may seem harsh, but if 9S’s mental

deterioration following 2B’s death and the revelation of humanity’s extinction is any indication,

it is a debatably necessary one. The androids’ relationship with humanity can be likened to a

game they play; androids as the players, humanity as the played. When the game is shut off, the

androids have no identity to turn to, no sense of self.

If there is a message to gleaned from this, it is the following: our identities, and thus the

realities that we live in, cannot be maintained solely by ourselves. We desperately need the

existence of another. The belief in a creator, the affection of a family, the performance of an idol,

the reign of a Forest King, the gaze of a lover—“the touch of what no longer exists”. This is one

of the core themes of Nier: Automata: We cannot live without another. And yet our relationship

with this other is tainted by self-interest. Not only is 9S afraid of acknowledging that 2B has

been killing him, it is the fear that his relationship with her might be impure that causes 9S to

react with such distress when interrogated by Adam. “Overflowing desire,” Adam states. The

characters of Nier: Automata are stained by this desire, and interestingly, it is the machines that

are most honest about this. Unlike the androids, which outwardly revere humanity, Adam says

the following when he proposes the androids help them learn about their masters:

“We need you to locate the humans on the moon and bring them to us. We will then

dissect and analyze them in order to drag their secrets forth into the light!”

Their relationship with humanity is openly exploitative. The Forest Kingdom is another

example of self-interest in a proxy relationship. Upon the death of their King, the machines place

his “memory” into a machine infant. However, the infant is unable to grow, and so the King

remains eternally trapped in a body that will never change, just like 9S. But that does not matter
to his subjects—as 2B and 9S assault their territory, destroying scores of their brethren, a

machine commander rallies his forces, declaring that they have lived their lives for this singular

moment. Their King’s life is not what his subjects wished to save: It was their place of servitude

beneath him. Holding on to their identities as his subjects represents what little self-

determination they have. By retaining the memory of their King in a vessel, the Forest Kingdom

commits the same act as the androids, who have installed a server on the moon with only the

memories of humanity. Their existences are like that of mere puppets. Although selfless in

appearance, androids and machines should not be taken as mere servants of their masters, but

rather as their self-serving benefactors.

There is a tension between the benefit the characters receive from their proxy and the

devotion they display toward them that is difficult to navigate. This is captured by 9S’s

complicated ambivalence toward 2B. Does he love her? There are numerous points one could

cite in service of such an interpretation. Does he hate her? Certainly “hate” is a viable candidate

for the censored portion of Adam’s quote. The aggression he displays toward the specters of 2B

he is confronted with in the tower supports the notion that he has not forgiven her killing of him.

Is his relationship with her selfish? It is undeniable that he chooses to be aware of only the

portions of 2B’s character that he wants to see, discarding the rest. His warped perception of her

forms the shell he lives in, and without it he cannot survive. Is his relationship selfless? Although

I have argued almost exclusively against this interpretation, I have truly been writing as a sort of

devil’s advocate; I believe this interpretation to be one of the most interesting, and will pay

service to it later. In any case, 9S’s character is one of opposite extremes. To quote Adam when

talking of humanity, who he states “killed uncountable numbers of their own kind, and yet loved

in equal measure,” this line alternately refers to the continued killing 2B performs against 9S as
well as, in a larger sense, the tension between hatred and love, as well as the feelings of

selfishness and self-sacrifice, that 9S, the androids, and 2B all feel toward the proxy that defines

their existence.

We need the existence of others, and yet we can only perceive them in a way that services

our own egos. The willful exclusion of that which we do not want to see is essential to our

existence. This fact acts on ourselves as both self-harming poison and self-sustaining elixir. To

build our self-concept, we must simultaneously deny aspects of ourselves, as well as that of

others which conflict with it. The questions that Nier: Automata poses are thus: Is it possible for

us to perceive reality in all its unfiltered glory, warts and all? Can we bear to perceive others

without discarding the aspects we dislike? And finally, can we then look upon others not with

self-interest, but with genuine altruism?

In fact, the structure of the game forms an answer to these questions. By the end of route

A, we hardly know the full story. In Rashomon-esque style, we must observe 9S’s perspective of

events before we can progress further. In route B, we are exposed to information previously

unavailable to us; we are shown the perspective of the machine named Simone, further

contextualizing what occurs. Only by understanding all aspects of reality can we proceed,

providing a solution to the thematic problem of fragmented realities.

The game goes even further. At the end of each route, we are presented with an ending

song called “Weight of the World”. Initially presented in English, the song occurs again at the

end of route B, but in Japanese. The song occurs again during the credits for endings C and D,

but in a “language” invented by singer Emi Evans. Set to exactly the same tune, these songs are

actually a subtle example of misdirection, as monolingual speakers might falsely believe the
meaning of the lyrics to be exactly the same across each version. In actuality, there are slight

variations between the English and Japanese versions, with the latter having the added title of

“Kowareta Sekai No Uta,” translatable as “Song of The Broken World.” Just as the game’s

multiple routes force players to observe multiple viewpoints to fully understand the game, the

presentation of one song in different languages exposes players to differences in perspectives.

The inability of some players to understand some of the songs is representative of the difficulty

that comes with understanding reality in its entirety, while the lyrical differences, which do not

appear to be simply attributable to translator preference, show how easily reality can be

misunderstood. Moreover, the misdirection acts as a sort of pointed criticism toward the

audience, highlighting players’ predilection for assigning their own meanings to the words of

others. It acts as a sort of warning, cautioning players to be wary of hasty assumptions in

communication. Here, one must be either multilingual or willing to research the songs in order to

gain a holistic understanding, and yet even that much does not reveal the meaning behind all

songs. The meaning of the invented language may never be known. Instead, the player is simply

left to imagine what its singer might mean. This conveys an unfortunate truth: Sometimes it is

impossible for us to understand each perspective, and therefore a full understanding of reality

might be beyond our reach.

But efforts to find one are not futile. The final version of the song, played at the end of

route E, which might only be reached upon sustained effort and even repeated failure, as the

game points out, combines every version and thus every language into one complete work.

English, Japanese and Evans’ made-up language are combined, and finally the song is sung by a

vast chorus of individuals, who are in fact the game’s developers. Songs themselves have the

capability to carry artistic qualities and come with the ability to express the unique perspectives
of its creators. In this case, the “Weight of the World” includes lyrics that are open to

interpretation; it might even be said that they “tell a story”. Just as we must play through multiple

routes to understand the game’s story, this song is yet another expression of someone’s reality,

and to fully understand it, we must perceive it in all of its forms.

There’s another interesting conclusion one might draw from this. While originally a

Japanese game, the inclusion of multiple languages at the end of each playthrough suggests an

ambivalence with what might be rightfully called the “true” language of the game. Indeed,

English copies are the result of translation efforts, and thus might be viewed as less valid than the

Japanese version. However, considering the game’s theme of “repairing” fragmented realities, I

will argue that this fact, along with the game’s reliance on multiple languages to present a

holistic reality, actually suggests an impartiality toward any language. We might even recall

Adam’s censored line once again. Individuals have attempted to base interpretations on how

many characters can fit into the censored portion, but this is faulty reasoning. When the game is

played in different languages, we observe that the number of censored characters remains

unchanged, showing that basing interpretations on any one language cannot be done. In fact, this

example, as well as in another that will soon be discussed, show that language is in fact an

obstacle to understanding. When we play the game as 2B, the names of enemy machines are

obscured by writing them in a made-up language, and only by playing the game as 9S are the

meaning of these names revealed. For example, we cannot read the name of the machine named

“Simone” on our first playthrough. Fascinatingly, it is only via either translation or

multilingualism that we as players can understand the game in its entirety. Thus, it may be

speculated that Nier: Automata has no definitive language.

Selflessness and Sacrifice in Nier: Automata

through selflessness and self-sacrifice that the characters of Nier: Automata are able to extract

themselves from their troubled circumstances and fully understand reality. To do so, I will focus

on an alternate interpretation of the characters and organizations previously mentioned in this

analysis.

Sacrifice, while ostensibly an act of selflessness, is inseparable from self-interest in

Nier:Automata. The theme of revenge exemplifies this. Often in service of one that has passed,

revenge serves to psychologically benefit its perpetrator. Even so, the actions of the characters in

the game also suggest an objective beyond simple preservation of reality. There are scenes that

are oddly conspicuous in that they run jarringly counter to the also-present themes of self-

interest. Routes A and B feature perhaps the most examples of this, especially during the fight

against Eve. During combat, Eve begins healing himself by connecting himself to the machine

network. To stop this, 9S declares his intention to hack into Eve. However, the player’s pod

warns 2B of the plan’s prospects in the following exchange:

“Analysis: The actions of unit 9S have an unacceptably low probability of success.

Proposal: Unit 2B should abandon 9S and save—”

“Shut up! If 9S says he can do it then he will!”

2B’s response suggests trust in 9S so extreme that she is willing to risk her life for him

even in the face of near certain failure. This is not the only example of 2B’s trust toward 9S.

Similarly, in the aerial fight against Grun, a massive aquatic machine, 9S states he has a plan to

defeat the enemy and subsequently leaves the battlefield with his flight unit. In response, the
player’s pod says “Proposal: 9S should be reported to command as a deserter,” to which 2B

responds, “No! He has a plan. Just hold on.”

The androids are only able to defeat the machine by launching a missile from orbit,

causing vast destruction to the surrounding area. Having lost contact with her forces on Earth,

the android Commander betrays an odd amount of care for her troops and 2B and 9S. After

ordering a search-and-rescue party for the missing YoRHa members, she even says the

following: “2B… 9S… don’t die on me.”

What could be the purpose of such care? Under orders from none other than the

Commander herself, 2B has been forced to kill 9S over and over. This scene demonstrates a

strange tension between the harm she inflicts on her own forces and genuine concern for their

well-being.

Perhaps the most enigmatic example of selflessness is how 9S himself behaves in routes

A and B. Although inwardly discontent with how 2B has been killing him, he nonetheless allows

2B to kill him whenever the situation demands it. He consistently puts her life above his,

culminating in his sacrifice at the end of the two routes. When playing as 9S, we even discover

that he was conscious of what hacking into Eve would mean for his own life in the following

exchange:

“Alert: Disruption detected in YoRHa unit 9S’s self-consciousness data. Corruption

potential critical. Evacuation recommended.”

“Can’t. Not when I’m this far in!” 9S responds.

this scene exists to expound on this fact as one of the defining characteristics of routes A and B.

Put this way, the first half of the story is not only one of selfishness, but of selflessness as well.

We can even alternately interpret the theme of revenge, previously analyzed as symbolic of the

selfishness of its perpetrators. Maybe killing A2 will not bring 2B back from the dead, but

perhaps 9S’s revenge is simply exemplary of the great degree of anguish he is experiencing over

her loss.

Why invite selfishness and selflessness as two alternate readings? It could be a message

of hope; its characters, although harrowed by their inability to correctly perceive reality, have the

capacity to perform selfless acts. Moreover, it also shows how self-interest and care for others

are inseparably tied together. As Adam says, humanity, “loved and hated in equal measure,” and

in a broader sense, this applies to many of the characters and organizations present in the game,

from the androids to 9S.

During ending E, players are confronted by a bullet hell sequence that they must progress

through to reach the end of the game. Although technically possible to beat alone, the section is

difficult to the extreme, making it nearly impossible. After a certain number of deaths, players

are given the option to receive help from other players, who add a large amount of firepower to

the player’s control. After beating the sequence and viewing the last scenes of the game, players

are given the option to delete their own data in order to help other players complete the game as

well; it only is through this act on the part of others that the player likely was able to complete

the game. There is an interesting parallel between the deleting of one’s data and the deaths of 9S.

Both are a form of sacrifice, with players’ loss of data being comparable to the loss of memory

9S experiences upon death. Before players’ can delete their memory, the game repeatedly
questions them, presenting reasons to reconsider: The player that is assisted will be a “total

stranger”. The player may be someone that you “intensely dislike”. Debug mode and chapter

select, which the player has worked so hard for, will be inaccessible. The game even suggests

that “some may say that your efforts are purely for show.”

Why does the game present so many reasons discouraging this act? In essence, the game

appears to question the selflessness at the core of the player’s decision. Can we truly say that

players feel no self-interest when saving another? Throughout the game, we have seen many

examples of selfish sacrifice, such as in the androids servitude of humanity. 9S’s willingness to

die at the hands of 2B could also be described as selfish, since it is in service of maintaining his

own reality. Here, the game places us in the same position as the characters in the game, and asks

whether our sacrifice will be an act of selflessness or in service of our own psychological well-

being. Regardless of a player’s motivation, it is only through this sacrifice that most other

players can advance through the game.

This sequence serves as a reflection of the game’s central themes of reality and

perception of others. In order to see the entirety of the game, and thus all of the game’s reality,

we must perform self-sacrifice. In a larger sense, performing this sacrifice also discourages us

from revisiting the game, since all of a player’s progress, including the chapter select, is deleted.

In doing so, the players are encouraged to return to their own realities, and thus their own

identities. Severed from our proxy, it’s as if the game asks the following: Can the player survive

reality on their own, without living through another? Or, by living through the anonymous player

they assist, do players still live in a false, invented reality, in service of one’s own self-concept?
 There is a tension between the sacrifice players must commit in ending E and the game’s

final line, which states, “A future is not given to you. It is something you must take for yourself.”

On one hand, players are saved by a community and subsequently asked to contribute to it, while

on the other, the game advocates self-determination. I argue that there is room for both to coexist

on a thematic level; as stated earlier, relationships between people are rarely exclusively matters

of selfishness or selflessness, but rather a mix of the two.

Although the characters in routes A and B may be trapped within a cycle by the lies they

operate under, the selflessness they exhibit transforms their false existence into one of truth, if

only to a small degree. Selfish desire permeates the narrative, as Adam outright states during his

interaction with 9S. But the selfless sacrifice that 9S and 2B show for each other also implies a

sincerity to their relationships. There is a strange harmony present in the first half of the story

that disappears later on. For all of the lies present before the fall of YoRHa, the teamwork that 9S

and 2B demonstrate allows them to sustain a sort of life together. Reality isn’t the only thing 9S

loses after the destruction of YoRHa and the death of 2B, but also a system of unity and a sort of

“truth” found in his relationships. He loses the sense of community that reappears in ending E,

when the player is assisted by the community of the game itself. Lies and truth can exist side-by-

side, and in routes A and B, they even sustain each other.

In the game’s final scenes, the pods are shown reassembling the bodies of A2, 9S, and

2B. They acknowledge that by inheriting their past memories, events may happen the same as

they have before. In a sense, this is a test for 9S; will he be able to maintain a relationship with

2B, knowing what she has done? Will he be able to perceive her as a whole, warts and all? Will

he be able to forge a self-concept without the influence of the past and 2B? This ending, which

occurs without the oversight of YoRHa, is an embracement of reality, an appeal for honesty.
 Conclusion

What is the meaning of such themes of fractured reality in Nier: Automata? What part do

themes of self-destructiveness, as well as selfishness, play in the grand scheme of meaning? Why

is such selfishness mediated by conspicuous, concurrent examples of selflessness? In this

section, I will attempt to reconcile many of these aspects of Nier: Automata’s narrative to

formulate a more holistic interpretation of the game.

A recurrent motivation in Nier: Automata is the desire to protect one’s interpretation of

reality. In every case, the sacrifice of something is required, from 9S’s memories to, in a grander

sense, the destruction of the machines as a force opposite to that of the androids. I believe this to

be commentary on how we construct our personal realities; in order to build our self-concept,

and thus exist in the world, we must discard that which we find repugnant. In the game, this

“discarding” of reality has an effect of “entrapment”. 9S is cursed to repeat the same life over

and over, and the androids have been locked in a never-ending conflict for thousands of years.

This “war over reality itself”, forms what may be thought of as one of the true obstacles to the

characters of Nier: Automata; it is this desire to control reality that leaves them “perpetually

trapped in an endless cycle of life and death”.

This offers a potential answer to the game’s themes of violence as well. The destruction

of machines allows the androids to maintain their identities as humanity’s servants. From a meta

perspective, it is also only through the killing of these enemies that the player is able to progress

through the game. Since the game is itself an alternate reality, it can be said that killing sustains

that reality. Based on this, I contend that Nier: Automata’s interest in reality and the gaze is

primarily a critique of how we form our identities and perceptions of the world. There is always

something we must “cut” from our gaze, often violently so.

believe that the tension between these concepts forms one of the game’s main conflicts, if hidden

in the background. Because of this, sacrifice has a double meaning in the game, and can be read

as an act of selfishness or selflessness. Besides capturing the dual nature of relationships in

general, I believe that this ambivalence is meant to leave the game’s final say on these themes

open-ended. While sacrifice can be a tool that allows progression and purifies relationships, it

can just as easily reinforce fractured realities. But in its final scenes, the game is hopeful that our

sacrifice will matter.

In the end, such ambivalence might be considered a reflection of the dual nature of our

gaze upon others. An exercise in opposites, the gaze in Nier: Automata, and in Nier as well, has

the power to hurt—to love—and to hate. But just as easily as it can kill, as seen in ending E, and

in the sacrifices made by the characters of the game, it can also save. Indeed, all of these words

could arguably fit in Adam’s censored line. But ultimately, the game chooses to accentuate the

positive aspects of the gaze alongside the negative. As Kaine says, “Your eyes are not a sin.”

They are an essential part of the characters of Nier: Automata, warts and all.
 Works Cited

Klepek, Patrick. “Does the Designer behind 'Nier: Automata' Believe in God?” VICE, 5

June 2017, https://www.vice.com/en/article/xw8xzd/does-the-designer-behind-nier-

automata-believe-in-god.