'Let us settle this with a determination. In my authority as chief overseer of Elpis, I will make a judgement on man's fitness to exist. If he can learn to value all life and retain his will to live, even should his end be justified, he will surely find a way to avert his demise. If not, he will perish from the star.'
Hermes on some level wants to believe, and he wants to be proven wrong. When he sends the Meteia off in search of answers, he tells you that he expects to share good news with you. And even when you find him at the end of his journey, a broken husk of his former self ('The man I was would weep for what I have become.') he still can hardly believe that the nihilistic answer he receives ('After all these years, was this the answer that I was hoping for?') One of the things that makes his character so poignant is how ill suited he is to play the villain. The Hermes that we meet in Elpis is a bumbling nerd, altogether too soft-hearted for his own good. We find him dangling upside-down off a tree when he tries to rescue his lost ambystoma. In each scenario that we encounter on Elpis, he's usually not the one to solve the problem, but he is usually able to pinpoint what the moral stakes are. And it's primarily through his growing sense of alienation and frustration that we get the sense of the wrongness of this place. And yet - there is no adequate way to voice his dissent. It's always beautiful.
So fixated are we upon the duty that we do not pause to question the method. Pain and suffering... confusion and despair writ plain in the eyes of those poor creatures. Yet no one sees. We turn a blind eye and carry on in blissful ignorance. Naught amiss, and always - always the blossoms shine pure and white. A contradiction so blatant I could scream. Want to scream. How can you all accept this... aberration!? Then I wonder... am I the aberration for thinking thus? And I am filled with dread...
Every utopian society that the Meteia encountered had one thing in common; the sense that their way of doing things and their approach to living was the best. They're beautiful and yet uncomfortable at the same time. Amaurot was no different from the rest. Many of the ones we see very deliberately are reflections of and condemnations on our own society. The Dead Ends in particular fires off some absolutely savage shots with its 'Freedom Fighters' and 'Peacekeepers', culminating in the final standing soldier by the exit cheering 'I did it! I killed them all! <long pause> I... killed them all...' It's fine to see things in their respective ideologies that are admirable. But I think that they're best admired from a distance.



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