Log Horizon 2

Episode 10

This episode was essentially one twenty minute monologue, set over slow pans of William Massachusett's guild as he attempted to steel their resolve for one more raid attempt. And it was easily the best episode of the season.

Log Horizon's always had a general interest in the psychology of its characters, and more specifically in what brings them to Elder Tale. It doesn't just assume it's “because games are fun,” and in this second season in particular, the ways gaming interacts with identity have been central to the various character journeys. William's guild starts this episode in a state of absolute defeat - they've lost, and lost in a way that makes it seem like raiding might have been made obsolete altogether by the shifts in this new Elder Tale. Their fears reflect on one of the most compelling points Shiroe brought up a season ago - the fact that in this new world, beyond survival, one of the greatest challenges the Adventurers will face will be finding purpose. And if William's teammates have lost raiding, they have lost purpose as well.

But William's not willing to accept that. When he hears his teammates talking of giving up, and going back to live as peacekeepers in town, he sees that as a direct challenge to his entire sense of self. The voices of his teammates reflect on voices he's heard before - those of people in the real world, the ones who always saw his hobby as a waste of time. If he gives up now, he's vindicating those people - if he surrenders here, then what he had clung to as a true identity will prove itself to be no more than a meaningless diversion after all. “We love games. We chose this,” he tells his teammates. “There are some things you just can't give up.”

This episode's speech, a speech that consumes the episode entirely, acts as both a stirring defense of gaming as identity and an acute, poignant articulation of the kind of person who'd want gaming to be their identity. William makes two central arguments in this episode, and both of them ring true. The first, the “we're not gonna take it” part of his speech, is focused largely on how he accepts that his interests are arbitrary, and believes that doesn't matter. “So what if it's just bits on a server? They matter. I've decided they matter. And I've decided that they're wonderful, glorious things!” It doesn't matter that any heroics in Elder Tale aren't accomplishments in the “real world.” The time and investment he's chosen to give to Elder Tale are real. The emotions he's felt over Elder Tale are real. The bonds he's formed through Elder Tale are real. His actions in Elder Tale are real according to any human metric, according to any metric that measures life as it is lived. “We may be maggots, losers who got beat… but I won't let anyone, not even God, tell me it was a waste,” he says. After that speech, I believe him.

In the second half, his speech turns to the unspoken circumstances underpinning his belief - his own personality, how it seemed unwanted in the “real world,” and how much Elder Tale offered him. He talks about how he “had nothing to offer” in the real world, and though his words seem myopic and naive, that doesn't make them any less real in an emotional sense for him. This hurt isn't fabricated from nothing - it's a pain you see expressed every day online, the pain of people who think the world is a game that's rigged against them. In the context of that pain, the things he finds in Elder Tale ring wonderfully true. “I can understand your feelings because I had the game,” he says, offering a poignant reflection on the way common assumed realities like games can make connections between people who lack social skills, or the confidence to impose their own views. In a game, all the variables are shared, and so much of what's necessary for conversation is taken for granted. In a game, the rules make sense, and by bonding with people in the context of those rules, you can ultimately bond over other things. Elder Tale taught William things like compromise, sympathy, and compassion, and he's not going to let some unfair raid design take away the truths he has learned in this place, or the pride he feels in his choices. He's going to fight, and he hopes his friends will fight with him.

Log Horizon knocked it out of the park this week, offering a stirring defense of games-as-identity that doubled as a poignant exploration of the worldview that would lead you to embrace them that way. The show's insights about gaming and human nature have never been more sharp than this moment. I may not agree with William's choices, but I feel like I understand him totally, and deeply sympathize with his perspective. This was a triumph of an episode.

Rating: A+

Log Horizon 2 is currently streaming on Crunchyroll.

Nick writes about anime, storytelling, and the meaning of life at Wrong Every Time.