#alexquillian

Have any of you ever read or watched a thing and thought it was well written and executed? Have you ever looked back a few years later and realize that you put way more thought into that piece of media than the author did? That perhaps maybe it was more of an accident that it was enjoyable than any real skill from the author? That the themes and symbolism and characterization weren’t really what you thought they were at all? That the elements that you thought were interesting and unique where just copy pasted from things that did them more cleverly but you just didn’t realize because you just hadn’t seen those things in other pieces of media before?

That was me with Sword Art Online.

The first part of season one at least. I unironically loved it. It wasn’t like I thought that it was perfect, but there was just something about it that I really enjoyed. I couldn’t help but wonder why people were so hard and down on it. It was a bit stupid but honestly name one anime fantasy show (or I guess SAO was technically sci-fi) that wasn’t stupid in some regard. And then there came the Alfheim arch and I um…kind of realized what everyone was talking about. I still held out for a bit. This was adapted from novels after all. Clearly they just rushed this part in order to get it to be the correct number of episodes.

*sigh*

But this isn’t going to be another essay about why SAO is…not objectively great. To be honest I still really like the first part. I recognize at this point, since I don’t really like anything else by Reki Kawahara that it is more chance and luck that I like the first part of season one of SAO than the fact like I like his writing. No, what this essay is going to be is an analysis on the show that I thought I was watching. A deep dive into the themes and ideas that I had assumed this show was about. I put tons of thought into watching the show, somewhat in defense of all the complaints it was getting. No guys, you have to realize, its actually good. Okay, here we go.

 Our world has been shaped by electronics. The fact that the internet exists has completely and radically changed our culture. The way we communicate, the way we think, and the way we experience relationships have all changed dramatically due to it. There have been many pieces of media that have explored it’s affect on culture, some mourning the change, some fearing it, and some embracing it. Today I want to talk about a show that touches on all three.

Sword Art Online, at it’s heart, is a show about how the things that happen online, in the digital world, mean something, whether those things be positive or negative. Any of us who have met people, or have internet friends, been bullied, or spent time in a video game have probably been told that it doesn’t count, since it is online. They’re not real friends, why bother spending time decorating a fake house in a game, it’s all just fake, why don’t you go outside and experience real life?

SAO is an unassuming, light hearted stab at that argument, and it does it by making the digital world a horrifying reality.

The premise of SAO is by no means unique. People get stuck in a video game, in this case the name of which is Sword Art Online, because the game is online, and they fight with swords. I’ve seen this trope before, you’ve probably seen this trope before, but SAO is the first time I’ve ever seen it where the stakes feel so real. Where the fun fantasy game takes on the harsher sides of real life, striping away the sense of safety that online interactions usually have, you don’t die for real, you have the ability to pretend to be someone you’re not. If the characters die in the game, they die in real life.

The main character is Kirito. Total loser nerd, real “you just don’t understand me” otaku, can’t talk to real people type. At first the main character throws himself into the world, instantly getting close to people and participating with others, becoming fast friends with another person Klein. Kirito seems to not care about his image, just loving to live in the world. Others buy the fact that he is an emotionally mature, competent, and cool individual.

Then blood drips from the ceiling of the game and some creepy, giant, cloak dude announces that you can’t log out of the game, and if you die in the game you die in real life. That the only way to escape the game is for at least one person to clear all one hundred levels. Akihiko Kayaba, the creator of the game, has for some reason no one can figure out, trapped everyone there. Oh, and also you no longer look like what you chose your character to look like, you are yourself. The aspects of the digital world, the safety net, the training wheels, are off.

Kirito flees. In the face of having to interact with people without the veneer of playacting, he falls into old habits, withdrawing into himself because he’s too scared to interact with people, he’s frightened of real human interaction. He puts on a front, claiming to himself it’s because he can’t be held back by the weaker characters, that the reason he flees from real human interaction is because he needs push himself to the limits of his character, and he can’t do that with all the dead weight. But it’s clear that’s just the lie he tells himself to cover up the truth. He, like many people, can’t stand his own self, and the internet was a good way to hide who he really was. He abandoned the connections he made at the start of the game, and he never fully repairs some of them. Klein was set to be a close and important friend, instead he becomes, at most, a distant acquaintance.

Kirito goes about his life, keeping himself from others, becoming incredible at the game, putting himself on a pedestal and telling himself that’s why he can’t interact with the riff raff, because he’s better than them. He is set apart from them because of his skill, and not because he has horrible interpersonal skills and doesn’t know how to actually interact with people without a false persona to hide behind. But then one day, he finally breaks, and a rag tag team convinces him to join their guild.

And everything goes to shit and everyone dies except Kirito. And these people are dead, for forever. This isn’t just something where they can log into the game again. Real relationships can hurt, because the consequences will have lasting effects, your can’t just log in later with a new avatar and start over. True, the consequences of a real relationship usually isn’t that the people you’ve come to care about die horrific deaths, but the point is still made. This world, which Kirito had entered in the hope of escaping a reality that he hated, had all the things of the real world he had been trying to escape. The fear of connection, the fear of being known. Even if he is a skilled and talented person now, instead of some hopeless loser good at nothing, somehow all the pain of real life still followed him. It doesn’t matter, this wish fulfillment is shallow, it doesn’t fulfill the wishes that Kirito actually cares about.

So Kirito withdraws even more, more convinced than ever that the only way to return to his reality, to get away from the hell that is the game is to set himself apart. Still playacting the part of some noble and untouchable genius, too advanced and cool to deal with the riff raff. He has a couple other adventures, where he denies himself real human interaction and keeps a cool appearance. Never getting too close to the people he interacts with. He keeps them at arms length. They look on at him as some distant and noble hero that can’t be understand, and Kirito wants to keep it that way, so that no one can meet the real him, the him that is weak, and pathetic, and a loser, and doesn’t know how to talk to people. Let them think he’s quite because he’s thoughtful, not because he doesn’t know what to say, let them think that he’s too far above them to form a connection, not that he’s terrified of vulnerability.

But then he meets a girl. She goes by the name Asuna and she just, kind of, doesn’t seem to get it. She just sort of acts like an actual person, and doesn’t seem to get the memo that she’s supposed to treat Kirito like some anti-hero loner. From an interaction that he actually had with her earlier on in the game, Kirito knows that she didn’t have much experience with video games before SAO. She has come into her own though, and she’s come into her own by acting like a reason person. In a way, she represents the exactly opposite of Kirito. Kirito hides his true personality and feelings behind a bit, because this world is too real to him, has all the aspects of real life he fled from. Asuna treats SAO like a game. She’s a pragmatic person who just wants to defeat the final boss so they can get out and get back to her real life. She doesn’t feel like the relationships here are real. Sure, they could lose their lives, but everything else is fake. The people you meet, the time you spend, just all twiddling your thumbs. Fake, not real, just a silly pass time for silly people.

This difference is driven home at the end of the show, where Kirito shares his real name, and asks what Asuna’s is so that he could find her. Surprised, Asuna says that she has been using her real name. The whole time, Kirito had been playacting a character, where as Asuna had just been herself.

They filled in a void in each other. Asuna get’s Kirito to really interact with people again, instead of keeping them at arms length, and Kirito helps Asuna see that the relationships you form online do matter, that, even in a silly game, the things you do and the people you meet have a lasting effect even when you log out.

There are a couple of arcs where Kirito and Asuna interact. The arcs continue to explore the idea of the difference between the importance of the digital world and reality. Including one of the best arcs of the entire show, where Asuna and Kirito have to solve the mystery of how people are dying in a safe zone, an area of the game where people aren’t supposed to die.

Kirito and Asuna predictably fall in love. Kirito showing Asuna that the relationships formed in the digital world do actually mean something real, and Asuna bringing Kirito out of his edge lord shell that he made for himself, to reveal that in truth he’s kind of an awkward dork. Once they actually fall in love the show takes an interesting turn. Their relationship looks nothing like that of two teenagers both experiencing a romantic relationship for the first time. It looks like an idyllic old married couple. They even do get married and adopt a child in the show. At first glance it may seem too unrealistic, but was actually one of the most clever character developments about the show. This development was meant to show case the effects that living in a “fantasy world” had put on these two young people.

Both Asuna and Kirito were living in the kind of world that teenagers dream about. What had been a fantasy and a form of escapism for them both was now reality. And it was awful, when the fantasy world had real stakes and real consequences. So what do these two do when they fall in love? They create for themselves another form of escapism. That of an old suburban married couple. In a way their marriage is an act, a way to lessen the stress of living in a dangerous world. Just two simple people, living a calm, unexciting, but never the less content life, because they had each other. The show never addresses how aware they are they that they are in fact acting out a part. Do they realize that they are playing parts? Or have they convinced themselves this is how a normal couple acts. The show never really gets into it, merely using this time to show how desperate the two are for a “normal” life, after the pain and horror of their escapism becoming reality. These few episodes, where they take a vacation after getting married, more clearly illustrate how much they have suffered more than any dramatic wailing, or desperately pained speeches they could give. Every moment they snuggled in bed, made food for each other, and took walks in the forest, spoke of the desperation they felt, even if it was for only a little, to get as far away from the world that they lived in.

After Kirito and Asuna live their escapist fantasy of being an old married couple we come to the climax. They are only on level seventy-five of one hundred, but they still barely pass. During it though, Kirito finally realizes something.

The person who had designed the game and trapped them all in there, Akihiko Kayaba, was playing. Kayaba was playing a character with all the skills, one of the best players in the game. Kirito realizes that Kayaba is living out his own fantasy, that this world was created, not for some grand purpose, not for a political statement, or to accomplish something grand. Simply to live out his fantasy. Who Kayaba is as a person is never really explored, all we know about him is that this world was for him, a way for him to make reality the world he always wished to live in. A world where he was important, a world where he was the leader and people respected him, and he lead others bravely.

Kayaba becomes the final boss, and predictably he is beaten after a grand fight of a lot of sword thrusts and sparkle animations. Once Kayaba is defeated, the world begins to slowly fade, as if to reaffirm that, yes, without Kayaba alive, the world has no purpose, since it was created for him.

Kayaba even speaks with Kirito and Asuna. A meandering, pandering discussion, where Kayaba tries his best to hold onto some remnants of the man he was pretending to be. We see a brief glimpse of the kind of limp, spineless jerk Kirito would have become if he hadn’t grown up. We see Kayaba in his real form, not his game avatar, but still he speaks in vague poetic language, he talks about having a dream about a city in the sky and makes his base and selfish desires to be important sound like some noble hope. He claims he “doesn’t remember why” he trapped them all in there. In a way that’s true. Because until the very last moment, SAO was real to everyone trapped in there, except for Kayaba. He had the power to change things, to hack the system, to live as a god. For him, the game was his personal fantasy manifest into reality.

After Kayaba dies, and is defeated, he realizes this, and covers his own disappointment of his project with his pretty language. He didn’t “forget” he just realized that it was pointless. None of the attachments he ever made were real, the life he led in the game had, for him, merely been a game. The only real moment was when he let Kirito kill him. He could have hacked the system and made it so he didn’t die in real life but he didn’t, in some desperate attempt to live something real as the world he had created crumbled apart.

Kayaba leaves, and Asuna and Kirito promise they will find each other in the real world. They will meet the real versions of themselves. What they experienced in the digital world was real, and they will cling to it in the real world too.

The world continues to fade, and then Kirito wakes up. His real body thin and weak. The show ends with him getting out of bed and walking through the hospital. No epilog, or final comments. We don’t know if Kirito is looking for someone specific, or simply looking to tell someone he is now awake, he’s come back, and he’s ready to become the real him.

…

But that wasn’t the end of the show and every episode after that one just reaffirmed the fact that I probably thought a bit more about the themes and the characterization that Reki Kawahara did. He seems like a nice enough guy but…after reading some of the books and watching more of the material, I don’t think he meant most of what I just described. Maybe a bit of the whole, what you do in the digital world matters and is real, but not much of anything else. I’m thinking that Kirito was supposed to be taken literally, not as an antisocial teenager terrified of real connection putting on a front. I’m pretty sure that the relationship between Kirito and Asuna wasn’t supposed to be seen as a form of escapism fantasy, and that they actually weren’t putting on a front when they acted like an old married couple. Also I might have read way more into Kayaba’s motivation than I was meant to.

At the end of it all, I still like the first part of season one. I like my interpretation. Yes there are still problems with the pacing, the end feels like it just sort of…happens, instead of getting to it naturally. Kirito just, suddenly realizes the truth. The second half doesn’t carry nearly the weight it should in terms of “holy shit this world is real if you die in the game you die in real life” which lessens the strength of the themes. There are, of course, a few other small things I thought could be changed, but that’s not really what this article is for. Perhaps in a way this is my defense for liking that part of SAO, or at least an explanation for why I’ve watched it multiple times even though I’m not fond of the rest of the franchise.  

 Bonus:

This isn’t really big enough to have it’s own post so I’m just gonna put it here, the way SAO ends in my head.

This, of course, takes place at the end of the first part. Pretty much everything stays the same all through the credits as Kirito takes his painful and slow time walking down the hospital hallway. Then the music end, and instead of going black, we see Kirito stop. He looks to his side, where one of the hospital doors are open. Inside the room is a frail looking girl staring at a NervGear helmet, her hair is chestnut brown. She looks up and her eyes go wide as she sees Kirito. We switch back to Kirito, his eyes are also wide. They tear up the slightest amount, and a faint smile touches his face.

We cut to black.