FromSoftware's latest game, Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon, offers players a fascinating story if they submit to its rules. Across a 15-20 hour first playthrough, players are hit with a barrage of names in Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubin, including Raven, Freelancer, Tourist, “dog,” G13, and “mutt” – none of which ever reveal the protagonist’s true identity.
All the while, the character never once utters a word of retort, only seeking recompense and vindication in elaborately conceived battles spread across missions of various import and length. But lest players assume the game operates in tried-and-true and, frankly, tired sci-fi tropes, it's the approach to telling its moth-eaten story – in an unorthodox way – that deserves special recognition in an art form that often talks down to players.
Fires of Rubicon marks the Armored Core series’ first entry in 10 years. In that time, FromSoftware has released Dark Souls II, Bloodborne, Dark Souls III, Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, and, of course, Elden Ring – a game that’s painstakingly designed to compel players to scour every nook and cranny of the Lands Between, searching for loot and lore in equal measure. In short, FromSoftware has been perfecting a game style immensely alluring to true believers and utterly repellant to those looking for spoon-fed narratives. One bugbear in particular is the sheer amount of dying that the player does – a threat to immersion, but a secret weapon for the company’s appeal.
Speaking with The New Yorker's Simon Parkin, game director, and FromSoftware president Hidetaki Miyazaki addressed his game-playing hang-ups and how that encouraged a new approach: “I die a lot. So, in my work, I want to answer the question: If death is to be more than a mark of failure, how do I give it meaning? How do I make death enjoyable?”
Despite whether Miyazaki's personal feelings about game death connect with players, one answer was to turn a necessary mechanic of gaming – try, die, try again – into an essential part of world-building. With the Rune of Death removed from the Elden Ring, the Lands Between are thrown out of whack, rendering the space a purgatorial backdrop of endless renewal. In previous FromSoftware games, a Curse bears a similar hold on its NPCs and adversaries. We, as gamers, take for granted many of the rules of gaming, and the pursuit of reward, so that when something is reframed, it takes on a different flavor.
To play Fires of Rubicon is a similarly cool and unforgiving experience as Elden Ring, requiring players to consult an extensive array of armaments that can mean turning the tides in battles against everything from an AI-controlled, flamethrowing aircraft to a massive furnace on wheels bearing spiked steamroller arms. Constantly returning to the drawing board while receiving the bare minimum of expository information (disseminated through radio communications) is a tall order regarding emotional investment.
However, through the muck and mire of gearhead gear-grinding, players will ultimately encounter one of two initial endings, and might very well feel satisfied with putting the controller down. A second playthrough, NG+, will offer a chance to see the alternate ending. But the real reward is reserved for those who commit to NG++, a new path with new missions that weave in and out of the areas players will already have seared into their brains. It’s in this playthrough that Fires of Rubicon’s “true” ending is revealed.
Faithful to FromSoftware's credo, Fires of Rubicon’s story harkens back to Elden Ring’s brilliant move of turning a necessity into world-building. In Rubicon, an unlockable menu option called Arena offers AI-generated battles with various mechs – essentially, what other games offer to beef up the content while providing little beyond the core narrative.
The Arena initially appears to be just a way of sharpening players' takedown tactics, but it is soon revealed to be a dossier of character encounters, data culled from the who’s who on Rubicon 3. It also serves as a checklist when considering which characters have been met through the main missions. If the player hasn’t encountered Nosaac or Rokumonsen, it’s worth considering that stones are left unturned.
In the NG++ playthrough, the Arena, operated by the ALLMIND, is reframed as the main ally-then-antagonist, a clever move that renders the cheap charms of bonus features a crucial element of the story’s “true” ending. The ALLMIND, “the mercenary support system,” has been fastidiously collecting data from across the planet for a project that will radically change the course of human history. This widespread assimilation begins with the unnamed player’s minor choices, and culminates in a tag-team showdown with a souped-up side character who bears a grudge from earlier encounters.
Beyond the pleasure of seeing how events could have played out, each playthrough offers other, more subtle variations on story beats that have been driven home through the live-die-repeat method. In some instances, a target will change, or players will be able to entirely circumvent an encounter with a particularly frustrating Coral-fuelled seraph known as CEL 240.
Two mechs have a standoff at the fueling station in Armored Core VI
In some instances, even the dialogue changes, offering a cheeky treat for those who can pick up on seemingly benign lines, and hold onto them with the hope of finding meaning. “Cinder” Carla, who survived the Fires of Ibis event, has minor variations on lines throughout each campaign. In one version, she says, “Get your laughs while you can.” In another, her AI compatriot, “Chatty,” says, “Chief…I couldn’t…never learned to laugh.” And, once more, if the player should choose to ally themselves with the ALLMIND, Carla passes along one final message: “Sorry, but I’m not laughing this time.”
Gone are the days when FromSoftware was considered a cult company with only niche appeal. But its idiosyncratic approach to storytelling remains integral to the mechanics of play – something of an outlier in a market saturated with games that prioritize one or the other. It’s rare to play a game that seems to be approached as an opportunity to discuss the very nature of its vessel, and it brings up many questions about what it means to play these games.
Sure, there are many purposeful gaps in the story – FromSoftware's narratives are lessons in subtraction. Much is open to interpretation, and even found sketches only stoke further curiosity, but it’s Armored Core’s withholding that gives it heft, and encourages players to seek high and low for any morsels to cling to. Here's hoping that they continue to make players work for their stories.
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