The Cognitive Pains and Pleasures of Persona 5 (Patreon)

Prologue: The Noob

I had never played a Persona game before, but I had heard rumblings for years that I would love them. Details were often left scant. I knew they took place in high school. I knew they were a mix of turn-based JRPGs and relationship simulators. It sounded intriguing, but they always remained this vague curiosity, an neat idea that I could just put on the proverbial shelf for some mythical day I would dive in. But that day finally came a few months ago. I simply saw an online sale that had Persona 5 available for a steal, so I bought it on a whim and started playing. 

170 game hours later, I had finished. 

To say it was one of the most lovely, involving, fun, and admittedly-frustrating experiences that I’ve had with a game is somehow an understatement. Its delights are specific and numerous. And its problems, which are laid beneath a simple matter of framing, are clear and singular. From the sound of all that, it may seem like my journey with Persona 5 could provide fodder for a giant, sprawling essay. But instead, it simply inspires some thoughts in five specific arenas…

1. Models & Conceits

The brilliance I can’t get out of my mind is the structure of the dang thing. If you’ve never played Persona 5 before, it has a basic routine gaming loop as the core mechanic. There is a whole calendar year where every day you: wake up, take the subway to school or another location (maybe you even get to read something if you get a seat!), then you get to choose to do one activity in the afternoon, and one activity at night. Those possible activities include hanging out with different friends, studying, going to movies, shopping, watering plants, building useful tools, working part-time jobs, and also going into alternate reality dungeons to fight monsters (wait, what? Don’t worry I’ll explain in a second). While there are story events that sometimes disrupt that flow, often the game is just that structural model.

And it might be one of the most enjoyable game mechanics I’ve ever come across.

Mostly because the game toes this great line of equilibrium. While you technically have limited time for activities, there still feels like there’s enough space to develop your relationship with other characters and explore new places around the city. But there’s also just the right amount of conflict in your decisions to make you actually care about what you choose. It’s like, “oh no, I want to hang out with this person AND that person, but I have to pick one!” Thankfully, it never quite feels like a punishing decision, either. Even when you go into dungeons to fight monsters it evokes this workman-like and of steadily progressing through your objectives, traveling deeper into the heart of the enemy in a strategic fashion. Virtually everything about your progress through this game feels well-earned, story-centric, and thoughtful. And more importantly, your overall mission within the game’s plot happens to be one of the best I’ve come across. Which brings us to the core conceit… 

Persona games involve teens who get the power to go into a collective unconscious space that turns into a dream-like reality (in this game, called the metaverse) and use the fantastical manipulations within that subconscious world to get evil people to see the error of their ways and change for good. Which means it takes the core mechanics of JRPGS and dungeon crawling and turns them into a giant metaphor for therapy. It’s brilliant, weird, and feels so meaningful because all the violence isn’t actually real violence at all. It’s about fostering a “change of heart” in the most malicious and corrupt people to change society for the better. There is nothing that could feel more appropriate in this day and age.

While the genius of the game’s structural model and core conceit drive everything, there are so many little details I adore, too. From the way the makers of this game clearly have the same intense love of coffee that I do. Same goes for food, fishing, and movies. And without suffering under the brunt of “realistic design,” it instills the player with such a clear feeling of place, as you begin carving out little nooks and crannies to love out of a real-life Tokyo. My favorite moments of the game involved book shopping with friends and quiet moments in a park. 

But hell, this is even the kind of game where you read about film criticism that lets you get more ability points when you watch movies because you have a better understanding. SERIOUSLY, HOW COULD I NOT LIKE THIS GAME. Throw in some gorgeous music and it all just evokes this indescribable feeling that is both powerful and addictive. I mean, there’s a reason I played 170 hours without it even close to feeling like a burden.

But like most things, there are reservations that slowly come along. Because when you look past the beauty of the game’s structural model and conceit and get into the nitty gritty of what a lot of Persona 5 is actually saying and why? 

Well… there you find the “oof.”

2. The Noob Part II

I have not seen much anime. This tends to surprise younger folks, but there is reason for this: at lot of people my age and older just sort of “missed it.” Sure, I watched some Miyazaki movies. I even grew up on early Final Fantasy games, but those were largely crossover properties that didn’t always inspire people to move toward other media from Japan (though obviously some people did). But right around the time I started driving cars and DOING SERIOUS ADULT STUFF (you know, being a teenage idiot) I remember all these kids who were just a few years younger who were getting in Sailor Moon, Dragonball Z, and Neon Genesis Evangelion. By the time Pokemon showed up to absorb all the younger siblings of the world, it meant there was just this entire generation of kids who were absorbing a diet of Japanese media. Which means they thus understood it in a radically different sense than I did.

Where it was difficult for my dumb, older eyes to even be able to look at the Japanese animation style and have it read as “real” to me (as I was so used to wester animation), there was now a generation below who had no such obstacle. So they were able to fall in love with it with that pure, unquestioning, child-like sense of glee. They came to understand the world of that art form, learning the names of directors, manga artists, techniques, and the deepest of lore for which I did not even have a frame of reference. They were opened to a whole bevy of cultural cinema to love, while it would take me so long to finally catch up. But as love brings us closer to an art form’s greatest capacities, it can also blind us to the innate problems inside it.

Perhaps blind is the wrong word. It’s more like familiarity “normalizes” us to those problems. I wrote about the idea in this piece on Neon Genesis Evangelion. But its safe to say Japan is different from us when it comes to a number of cultural norms, specifically around sexuality and gender. And often there is a frequent refrain when you bring up the problems of certain properties that, say, sexualize young women, or display toxic masculinity and gay panic, where it often gets brushed aside with “oh, that’s just how Japan is” or “yeah, it’s messed up, but what are you going to do?” 

The simple answer is I’m going to talk about it. Not in some blatant finger-wagging way. Because this isn’t about them using the wrong words or that lamenting that a country’s sense of identity politics is just a little behind our own. No, this is about the way brushing-off those elements becomes an obstacle to deeper discussion. How say “that’s just how japan is,” actually prevents us from talking about how these cultural problems go far beyond one country and are wholly universal. And how it is often in those very complications that you find the most interesting, challenging, and complex discussions within the meaning of the piece of art itself.

But sometimes, you just have to sift through the noise to get there…

3. Say That Again?

It is safe to say that Persona 5 is repetitive. 

But there are clear joys in the repetition of this game. It is chock-full of the kind that anxiety-reducing routine where you can put on a podcast, fight some monsters, buy some books, and even do in-game laundry (really), and then go to sleep in-game at a reasonable hour (real life, not so much). But this repetition is part of the game’s peacefulness. The problem is that there is also a kind of repetition in this game that deeply hurts the dramatic thrust of the story.

I’ve written about this notion a lot, but I feel like video games and movies keep learning a lot of the wrong lessons from each other. When games talk about wanting to make something “cinematic” it usually just means putting it in a wider aspect ratio (aka black bars) and aping this kind of soft-spoken, gravelly seriousness that puts poetic undertones to their murder game or whatever. But the most crucial lessons to learn aren’t in the textural details, they come in the finer points of story craft. And while games are good at understanding the crucial nature of objectives in storytelling, they often lack in understanding things things like manifesting conflict between characters, or, in the case of Persona 5, understanding how to shape “an arc’ within dialogue itself.

Because while the game is so damn good at crafting the natural “feeling” of a day, there’s so much dramatic shapelessness within… well, just about everything. From the stop-start frustrations of the 30 hour tutorial, to constant needless flashbacks (sometimes to things happened literally one minute prior), to the grating fact that we as the audience know Shido is the same bad guy immediately, but it takes the main character 150 hours to come to the same obvious conclusion. But those large-scale problems are actually much less troubling than the constant smaller conversations you experience in person and over text throughout the game. The ones that just repeat the same information over and over and over and over again. I can’t tell you how many text chains and in-person meetings do this. Sometimes you are just trying to sleep and then interrupted with “character work” of a friend (usually Ryuji) writing you like…

Other Character: “Hey, that guy we’re after! I really wanna get him!”

Me: “I know. we’ve literally been talking about for four days straigh-

OC: “Let’s do it! Let’s steal his heart!”

Me: “i know. We already decided in the meeting earl-

OC: “I’ll do everything i can!”

Me: “I’m glad, but-

[10 minutes of this later]

OC: “God, we really gotta get this guy!”

Me: “Yes! I believe in you.”

OC: “He deserves to have his heart stolen!”

Me: “We’ve super totally established thi-”

OC: “Rad! Well… See ya later!”

This may sound like an exaggeration, but the game is SO MUCH like this. Which stinks because you know they can do so much better, as evidenced in the the specialized “ranking up” character scenes where there’s some semblance of a plot and you progress your relationship levels upward. There’s real purpose there. But in these scenes there is just the endless circle of repetition that goes nowhere. The only question is why? Why do they get trapped in these endless circles?

The first is the obvious and aforementioned answer that the writers just don’t seem to understand that a scene has to have an arc, nor a point of synthesis that reshaping the conflict. That so much is clear. You could argue they were “striving for realism,” but that’s not what actually makes something feel realistic. I also worry they were just overly-appealing to the in-world logic, like there’s a lot of times that a character hasn’t heard X yet, so then you actually need to explain it instead of skipping over it. Or more tediously, there’s a literal 30 minute dialogue scene to explain every logistical detail of a twist (that only exists because of artificial reasons anyway). But even all this doesn’t quite account for the level we’re seeing here. There’s something else going on.

There’s a bit of conventional wisdom for when you’re writing collaboratively or editing someone else and you start noticing that they’re being repetitive with their writing. And it’s this: the person doesn’t know what they want to say. Often they started writing and were trying to find the words, searching for meaning, knowing vaguely what sort of idea they WANT to go for, but they start evoking the same general thought in the hope that it will somehow click together. The sad effect of this is two-fold, in that it creates writing that is both mis-targeted and vague. It prevents your idea from feeling coordinated to a given purpose, and obscures any notion of a pointed arc. 

It can really muddle everything. On one level, the characters seem so defined into their respective archetypes, but I would still constantly be surprised by how they would just suddenly define a character different from what came before. Like there’s a scene a 150 damn hours in they’re telling Mona how conceited he is and it’s like, “wait, what?” It feels like it’s constantly reaching and searching for a “roundness” to the characters, but it always fails to crystalize. But this is not just a matter of “bad writing” (I also hate calling things bad), it’s about an inclination. Because when you look at all the repetition and inconsistency of character, you realize these problems aren’t mere failings of execution… 

It’s because it doesn’t actually want the characters to get introspective at all.

4. The Crippling Crux

Ostensibly, Persona 5 is about the power of youthful idealism and the willingness to fight a cynical adult world. And it very much is that. But is also that in a very “angry 15 year old” way. You can argue this makes sense given their ages, but it the real world within persona is heightened to a ludicrous degree. Sure, it’s a game that grounds you in the realism of getting lost in the subway or get caught dealing with pesky exams, but it takes people’s real life problematic behaviors and amps them up to 11. I kept thinking of how much it was like soap opera. Like 90% of the school kids are being blackmailed for some reason?! And the bad people who become their targets are just so over the top and cartoonishly evil. Not just in the metaverse representations, either- but in real life. Often it feels like there’s no difference. A detail which largely betrays the way human beings can not see the monstrous intent behind simple actions. Why make the choice to make everything so over the top? Is there any commentary to this? Nope.

It’s to make the characters’ anger and resentment 100% justified. 

True, in many forms of narrative there’s good logic to such cartoonish evil. Action movies need villains and moral clarity to make rooting interests feel compelling. It’s basically catharsis fuel. But in the case of Persona 5 it actually makes the story feel more mundane, even facile. The game’s conceit - that of showing how people are in real life versus how they are hearts - would allow for so much truthful nuance. It even seems like it is flirting with that idea, especially early on with Kamoshida’s character. But instead all the quiet, realistic ways that adults subtly abuse their power and cloak their desires go right out the window. Instead, we’re hit with over-the-top cruelty, conspiracy-laden-thinking, and broad sweeping proclamations that “no adult will help you!” 

Even more damning to this idea is the way the game looks at therapeutic language itself. For a modern game that is ostensibly about psychology, it’s seems hooked on vastly outdated Jungian notions (even Freudian ones). The kind of thinking that shows a reductive understanding of trauma and falsely equates behaviors, often with a, “you did x because y happened to you!” So when we get into the matters of metaphor and the actual “healing process” in freeing hearts? It just all can’t help but feel… off. And more troubling, too convenient for the main characters.

It’s a view of the world and their circumstances that brings us right back to the problems of narrative framing, a subject I actually just wrote about my Joker piece. But where that Oscar-nominated film was using its sympathy-inducing framing to go justify the character’s violent actions and go, “look at what you made me do!” There is a different kind of hypocrisy to the framing of Persona 5 that is stark and apparent… For a game about punishing assholes who ogle and think they own women, the game sure is tolerant of certain assholes ogle and think they own women. 

Look, showing horny teenage fun is one of those things that takes a surprisingly deft hand to handle correctly. And that’s nowhere to be found here. Ryuji is crass, angry, and defensive., but the game hopes those edges are softened and he still comes off as enduring. But it’s so line-crossing and ugly and mean-spirited that the player can’t abide with the game’s portrayal. Put simply, I would never be friends with someone like this. Worse, there’s not even any real growth in his character. He justifies the source of his anger, gets revenge on mean adults, and the two of you eat a bunch of noodles. There’s no real introspection and evolution.

Even then, his hypocrisy is nothing compared to the way Yusuke tries to blackmail another of your characters to pose nude for him and everyone laughs it off, even using it as an opportunity. Then they ask Yusuke to join the team and everyone just glides right over the event, even when Ann is still clearly upset about it. And yes, I understand the game tries to sidle past it that Yusuke didn’t mean it like that and he’s only interested in pure beauty or something (again, it’s vague), but that’s completely irrelevant to the effect and damage being caused to Ann. I also understand there are possible asexual readings of the character and I honor that, but I honestly don’t get that a lot out of the text (particular in his dialogue when he’s trying to manipulate her). The lack of understanding here is just too stark. Because after the opening Kamoshida plot-line and his sexual manipulation of Ann? It can’t help but feeling the single most hypocritical, myopic bit of disconnect in the world. And it speaks to a different problem of framing…

“it’s okay when i do it.”

There is such an ugly notion of self-exceptionalism (as in “I am the exception”) in this story. Right when this sexual blackmail matter should be most discussed with Yusuke, the conversation instead drifts to their own powers and Joker has the option to tell him, “No, we’re special! Don’t you agree, Yusuke?” Nothing could not be more telling. Again, there’s no real introspection going on with your main characters, even though those characters constantly demand such introspection from others. This, along with literally everything else about the game, is how it gets all wrapped up in a clear purpose…

It is all the power fantasy of a 15 year old boy. 

It’s not letting adults control you. It’s characterizing those adults all as cartoonish monsters. It’s hyper-wringing your sympathy while ignoring your own behavior to a ludicrous degree. It’s having a bevy of female “options” to date. Hell, in this game you can effectively BLACKMAIL YOUR TEACHER into dressing as maid for you, doing your laundry, and giving you massages… you can even start a relationship with her… Yes, you read that correctly. For a game which castigates both blackmail and a male teacher for trying to cross those same lines, it not just embraces the double standard, but craves it. 

This is naked pandering. Sometimes that pandering feels silly and obvious and safe, but other times it feels like a suffocating atmosphere. Because all the other guys in your party pretty much suck. And your main character could totally suck, too if you pick the “jokey” options (which range from mildly snarky to messed up). Meanwhile, the female characters of your party are varying degrees of placating and infantilizing. And right when you think you’re going to be given some introspection to their respective traumas, the game instead uses their trauma as motivation for you to defend them and be their savior. 

But what makes it all so frustrating is that all the while, there are these genuinely good bits of characterization that come along, too. Scenes that are delicate and sensitive and kind and loving. These moments stick out and made me constantly hope that i would see something brighter and sometimes did (the Sojiro plot-line is probably the best example of this). And thanks to the format of the game, it becomes very easy to see that idealized version of the character in my head. But then, thanks to the writing, it is equally easy to crush that ideal characterization with a single crass remark. And no, this isn’t just a matter of differences with Japanese culture. 

For comparison, Neon Genesis Evangelion didn’t quite have the modern language for its subject matter either, but it was still deeply aware of both the horrors of toxic masculinity and the problematic ways the show also embodied it. But in Persona 5? The disconnect could not be further. I don’t think its malicious or anything. It even offers a great deal of lip-service to the contrary of what I’m saying. But the critical crux of what I outlined above is undeniable: instead of looking inward, the main characters often ignore them and lashes out. The narrative takes the innate pain of being 15 and the feeling like THE WORLD IS OUT TO GET YOU and then tries to put that same world in a bottle - to craft one where you have people do exactly what you want, when you want it - So for a game that is ostensibly about fixing and healing people’s hearts…

Never have I wanted a game to feature that same kind of self-reflection.

5. Holding In Head

When you take Persona 5 on the whole, it makes for a constant push-pull experience. One where you alternate by between the tranquil beauty of student life and the nagging problematic hypocrisy at the center of the game. As I said, the delights are so tangible and gratifying that I can’t be anything other than hooked on it. And the model and conceit are so powerful that I can’t help feel it could have been so much more. It’s just so dang easy to see a version of this game that eludes such hypocrisy and uses its power for self-reflection. But Persona 5 is the game we have. And it does not. Which means this is ultimately about the tried and true process of art holding two conflicting ideas in your head at the same time and making peace with that.

Because for good or ill, warts and all, Persona 5 IS the ultimate teenage boy fantasy. Which means I weirdly think about the game in the tradition of Twilight and other YA lit that taps into the same kind of genuine emotion and problematic longing. Which isn’t always the most terrible thing in the world. Hell, I think about how the game can’t help but bring out my own inner teenage boy, from the times that feels silly and okay to do so, to the times it feels jarring and totally not okay. The game allows you to be the walking contradiction - harmful, but not malicious - light hearted, but sometimes ignorant - But maybe bringing us back to that mindset is the point. Maybe that’s the indulgence. Maybe we can be aware of its gratifications and optics. Maybe it’s fine. Maybe it’s not. All I know is that when I try to sum up my singular feeling about the whole experience, I can’t help but smile at the nature of the whole silly, moving, and infuriating affair. Perhaps, a quote near the end that perhaps sums it up best…

“Man you guys are the best, stupidest group I could ask for.”

It feels correct. 

I just wish they spent more time contextualizing the part that makes them stupid.

<3HULK