I love how collecting the music records in Lies of P melds the game's mechanics to its narrative themes

Originally posted Oct 1, 2023

Having completed it, I could probably write a longer post on Lies of P as a whole but tl;dr - I like a lot of what the game does, have some strong feelings about where it missteps, but would love to see them iterate with a sequel. I think if you've enjoyed any of From's recent output and have a gamepass subscription, it is absolutely worth taking a look at it. It's an uncannily good imitation that I think is worth experiencing if just for the novelty.

What I want to talk about is how much I ended up loving the record player mechanic. As a brief summary, you play as the puppet Pinocchio in Krat, a fictional early 20th century city that's gone all Bloodborne. Puppets and people gone mad in the streets, that sort of thing. Despite the insanity of saying any of this out loud, this setup is bafflingly adept in its ability to frame the core personal conceit of the game; Pinocchio's pursuit of humanity.

Various actions you perform in the game will gradually make Pinocchio more human, one of these being the titular lying. Lies of P posits that counter to the original tale, lying is fundamentally one of the most human traits we have. Depending on how it's deployed, lying can be protection, salve, or weapon.

The other thing Lies of P contends make us human is our love of music. This is great. Throughout the game, you can collect various music records, often as the reward for side quests where you assist the various survivors of Krat. If you play these records at the record player in the game's central hub, you gain humanity points. But here's the thing, you have to listen to the song in its entirety to become more human. Simply turning in the record will not confer the benefits. I love this as a deliberate design choice.

It's easy to boil so many mechanics in games into their transactional bones. The bonfire lady levels me up, the blacksmith adds +1 to my sword, etc. When I turned in my first record and it did not immediately give me anything, I was taken aback. Wait I really have to just sit here and listen to this? And so I did. And goddamn, the records in Lies of P are really good.

For a game with such an otherwise unremarkable soundtrack, it's wild how good these optional tracks are. They all kind of have this vibe, running the gamut from romantic crooners to instrumental easy listens that feel vaguely era appropriate.

Eventually it becomes apparent that the only way to become truly human in Lies of P is a combination of tactful deception and listening to enough music to awaken the crystallized human soul that resides within your artificial body. Even if you choose to lie at nearly every possible juncture, you will not be human enough to trigger the true ending unless you've listened to at least some of the records.

It's important that the songs you get are good because that makes the reward twofold. There's the mechanical reward of becoming more human, but also the personal one of getting to listen to a new good song. And what's more human than that? It's such a clever way to communicate the narrative themes of the game to the player. Of course you should listen to the full song, that's what humans do. Only an unfeeling automaton would treat music as transactional.

For a game that's as blatantly imitative of From's output as it is, this is one of the things that'll probably stick with me as part of Lies of P's distinct identity. It's such a neat little trick that fits perfectly with the game's otherwise fairly simple narrative themes. These tracks aren't reused anywhere else in the game. They were composed exclusively to be collectible rewards for the player. It's choices like these that convince me that Lies of P is more than just a hollow simulacra.

The last shoutout I'll give is to the track, Memory of Beach. It's your reward for completing a quest for Antonia, an elderly woman who owned the hotel you use as your central hub. The long and short of it is she's in terminal medical condition and your actions can help ease the worst of her symptoms. There's no saving her, but you can make her final days less miserable. She's wistful for days long past and people long gone, in the ways you might expect from someone looking at life in the rearview mirror.

Memory of Beach beautifully captures this feeling. A soft hum accompanies the solo piano. It feels nostalgic, like someone listening to an old favorite and trying to remember how it goes. I don't even remember what the other reward was for completing the quest. I think it was for my P-Organ. But I'll remember listening to Memory of Beach, a gift from Antonia.

#video_games #lies_of_p #soundtrack_thoughts