Innocence and Responsibility in Suikoden II

by Geoffrey Moses

You can never go home again.

Well, you can't. Like it or not, as you meander through this existence, you're constantly burning bridges with everything you do. 'Tis an immutable fact. I just beat Suikoden II (massive SuikoII spoilers coming up, so be warned). As far as I'm concerned, it's easily the best RPG (and thus, best game) of the year, best Playstation RPG, and quite possibly the best RPG period. Pretty extreme, perhaps, but read on, and perhaps you'll understand.

It would be extremely difficult to encapsulate my exact emotional state upon finishing SII. Let's just say that it was four-thirty a.m. (a bit late, even for me), and yet I went through the ending three times in a row in an effort to improve on the ending (an effort which was not in vane--I saw three separate endings, which, I've been led to believe, is all there are.

I'm not exactly the most outwardly emotional person, but SII pushed all the right buttons, and I won't deny that upon viewing the "best" ending, I was almost in tears. Yes, many of you will see it and shrug: "What's the big deal?" Of course, since human emotions are impossible to quanitfy, everyone will have a different reaction, but I will nonetheless lay it out for your inspection.

Throughout Suikoden II (I as well, but more in II), there's an underlying theme of loss of innocence. The hero and Joey (no! I refuse to call him "Jowy"!) both start out as naive and idealistic young men--little more than children, really. As the game progresses, and they find themselves at odds with each other, they incrementally lose this innocence--a path that in this world can never be retreaded. The first two endings would wholeheartedly support this conclusion. In the first, the hero simply goes on to become leader of a new (and presumably better) state, and the game ends with a shot of Joey sitting under a tree where the two had agreed to meet way back in the beginning of the game--waiting in vain, for the hero has gone on to new and greater responsibilities, and left his old friend in the past; the clear implication is that their paths will never reconverge.

In the second ending, the hero does return to the meeting place, only to be forced to kill Joey in single combat--or, barring that, his life is drained away by his Black Blade rune--the clear idea being that no matter what the hero may wish this is a tragic inevitability). This loose end tied up, he goes back and, again, becomes leader of the new state. The ending shot is a black and white picture of the hero, Joey, and the hero's foster-sister Nanami (who was killed protecting the two of them from a traitorous attack) standing on a hill looking off into the distance. This, we must believe, is the desired future that could never be--the fact that it's in black and white only adds to the air of unreality.

Butbutbut--then there's a third ending (only acheivable if you've picked up all hundred eight stars of destiny, natch). In it, the hero refuses to kill Joey (in spite of all his protest-ations), and the Bright Shield and Black Blade runes merge together and heal him rather than the one killing him. Then, to compound the matter, we are informed by Shu the strategist that Nanami is not in fact dead, and the three of them walk off into a highly idyllic sunset.

Even as it's happening, Joey disputes the possibility of this happy scenario. He's committed to many crimes; has too much blood on his hands. Shu tells him that, although he may never be washed of these sins, he believes that he is capable of continuing his life. Thus, this heavy emotional baggage is not entirely obliterated, but rendered for the most part irrelevant. Then there's the matter of Joey's wife Jillia and surrogate daughter Pilika. Earlier, witnessing the collapse of his Empire and wanting to protect them, he had sent them to a distant city to live as ordinary people. Now that he's been miraculously freed from his chains of duty, however, one would think he would be hard-pressed to find a rationalization for staying away from them. And he doesn't, exactly--we see a scene of our three protagonists in front of the house where Jillia and Pilia are staying; Pilika, seeing them, runs forward to greet them. The scene ends, and we are next shown just the hero and Nanami crossing a bridge. However, Joey comes running onto the screen and catches up with them--presumably having in some unspecified manner worked out whatever issues he had with his family. The ending shot is the same as that of the previous ending, but in color--against all odds, this is real; this has happened.

This ending is sheer fantasy. Nanami's "revival" may be more believable than Gremio's in SuikoI, but it still pushes the outer limits of credibility. And that Joey is able to put the past entirely behind him is perhaps even more of a miracle. The suggestion, on Konami's part, that, unlikely though it is (many people likely will never see this ending, you CAN in fact sometimes go back, is a powerful and seductive one, as much as we may doubt its veracity. After witnessing all of these characters' trials and tribulations, it's impossible not to feel a surge of joy when they manage to defeat the seemingly inevitable. Imagine if, at the end of Of Mice and Men, George and Lenny had emerged victorious; if they'd acheived their dream of getting a small farm with rabbits. You know for a dead certainty that it can never, ever happen--and yet, in Suikoden II, it can. You can't help but cheer for them--we may never defeat the cold rules of reality, but Geoffrey (it's my character, so he's named Geoffrey--live with it), Joey, and Nanami just might.