Volume 1: Beginning of the Journey
One of the strange side effects of being born in 2002 is that I simply haven’t had the time to play a lot of games people consider “essential”. Confessing, as a games writer, that I’ve never played the original Final Fantasy VII all the way through feels like I’m admitting I’m a fraud, but it’s true. I’m one of the young ones; I haven’t had the time to go back and retread entire histories, because I still want to keep up with what’s happening now, and stay in the loop on the current conversation. Yet, I know there’s a whole lot more to this gig than just the ‘now’; despite considering myself pretty knowledgeable about video game history, there’s always been a nagging voice in my ear telling me I should probably make an effort to round out my experience. For the sake of the game, so to speak.
The industry offers me a lemon-shaped dilemma, I pitch column-flavoured lemonade. So here we are, a column to highlight some of the incredible gaps in my experience, and my journey to fill those gaps. It’s been an interesting exercise in humiliation to go to friends and colleagues to ask what I should consider playing next, to then see their horror when I tell them “no, I haven’t played Metal Gear Solid.”
But in that horror lies potential. Why not take the chance to write about those first-time experiences? There’s a frankly shocking well to pull from when it comes to my blank spots across generations. Games I’ve meant to play, but just never have. And now I will for your entertainment. Or judgment.
First up on the laundry list is Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty.
Admitting I’d barely touched Metal Gear felt uniquely embarrassing; it’s a series everyone has at least heard of. And yet, I’d somehow managed to almost totally circle it until just this year. I played a swath of Metal Gear Solid V in 2016, but that was the extent of my investment. I played Metal Gear Solid nearly a year ago, and I’ve remained almost entirely in the dark since then. I enjoyed my time, just never dove into this one, until now.
I know about Hideo Kojima. His name carries a certain weight in this industry. He’s viewed as one of the visionary directors of the medium, and put on a pedestal most would rather not jostle. He’s the movie-game guy. He’s the Metal Gear guy!
Yeah, I know he has a thing for fourth-wall breaking and constantly pulling the rug out from under you. I knew Raiden was, in fact, not Snake. Playing with that knowledge was exceptionally funny because I couldn’t help but just… not care. The idea that Raiden as a character was enough to get people not to play makes me laugh. It’s not as if Snake isn’t in it. Maybe I’m lucky that I never saw the marketing campaign that hid Raiden from everyone; I went into it without a rug to pull out from under me, and I never got the chance to be a part of that trick.
I knew basically nothing other than the broadest strokes when coming into Metal Gear Solid 2. I’d seen Raiden running around naked, and I’d heard about how the game tells you to “turn the console off”, but this wasn’t anywhere near enough to spoil the experience. Which is to say, playing Metal Gear Solid 2 for the first time in 2025 was a journey of going “wait, that’s what that means?”. I’d seen more than enough about how so much of what we see in politics today supposedly “happens in MGS2”, and I must admit, that’s what got me going with this one. Surely, surely, it isn’t true.
Metal Gear Solid 2 surprised me with how thematically relevant it feels today; yeah, we do live in an age of digital information being manipulated, and echo chambers being used in order to keep the public angry at each other. In 2004, I’m sure this was a novel “what-if” scenario, where in 2026 it’s become closer to the truth than ever.
If anything, it comes across as a depressing grandstand about something we should have clearly seen coming, given that we’re living through it right now.
As a game? Metal Gear Solid 2 has made me realise I’ve been taking a lot for granted as someone who grew up in the mid-2010s. I’m sure some of you are going to scoff at me for even mentioning how the lack of button prompts for simple actions threw me off, but it really did.
I’m not embarrassed to admit how hard I floundered as I tried desperately to work out how to drag a body into a corner. I’m used to having controls plastered all over the screen all the way down to the end; being given the freedom to learn on my own was rewarding in a way I’m not used to. I wasn’t told how to move that corpse. It was all me.
It made the experience feel remarkably organic. Raiden is a chatty guy, but I appreciate he wasn’t quipping constantly about the next objective (Ed. note: Oh, my god. Right? Remember when video game protagonists didn’t have to remark on everything?). That doesn’t mean I appreciated all of the weird cruft, but it made for a memorable experience. Having Raiden slip and fall off of metal walkways because of actual bird crap was hilarious the first time around, but much less so on my fifth try. Same deal for Raiden’s inability to hold still; I appreciate that snipers are sensitive, but they’re basically unusable unless you dope up on stabilizers. All organic, all friction.
Ultimately, Metal Gear Solid 2 left me feeling a bizarre mix of hope and apathy. The game ends with a speech about the passing of legacy, and the importance of embracing that in a digital age, which resonated with me. But it has also just finished a 15-minute breakdown of how fucked we are as a species because of the internet. Which is even funnier, considering how you’re reading this right now.
I would be lying if I said I finished it feeling great; but I’m glad I finally see what so many others have been talking about.
In a few months, I’ll probably jump into Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater, but I think this one has given me more than enough to digest by itself. For now, Kojima can go back on the shelf. It’s not as if there’s a rush.
That’s all for this first volume; I’ll be back very soon with another dive into the past. Until then, keep on playing. It’s never too late!
