Borderlands 2: Deep and Dumb

    If it were possible to ask a video game whether it was deep or dumb, then Borderlands 2 would respond with a hearty “Yes.” On the one hand, its central loop of “get gun, kill things, get better gun” feels like an interactive sugar high, and its approach to humor consists of bombarding the player with so many sex jokes and pop culture references that they’re conditioned to chuckle out of habit. On the other hand, it’s also the story of a self-deluded techno-fascist who collapsed under the weight of his own ambition, and the found family of broken people who fought - and sometimes died - to end his cycle of abuse. The game often feels as if it’s desperately trying to maintain a shaky truce between these two narrative styles, and in certain instances, its sophomoric side completely smothers its loftier artistic goals. That being said, this chaotic mishmash of tones is also what makes Borderlands 2 special, and it’s something that neither of the other mainline Borderlands games have truly managed to replicate. Despite its many stumbling blocks, when Borderlands 2 works, it really works, hitting emotional notes that a more self-serious story would not have been able to achieve.

    The primary success of Borderlands 2’s writing is its antagonist, the sickeningly charming Handsome Jack. As the CEO of the Hyperion corporation, Jack is snarky, vain, and ruthlessly authoritarian, coming off like a twisted hybrid of Patrick Bateman and Elon Musk. Quippy murderers are a dime a dozen in the Borderlands series, but what elevates Jack to such a delightfully hateable villain is the bourgeois self-righteousness that drips from his every word. He speaks to the player like they’re simultaneously a criminal and a child, and each time he calls them “bandit,” “pumpkin,” or (worst of all) “kiddo,” his voice actor Dameon Clarke makes it sound like a slur. His rhetoric regarding Pandora - the setting of the first two Borderlands games - is overtly colonialist, viewing the planet’s native population as savages who must be “civilized” with fire and blood. Most insufferable of all, however, are Handsome Jack’s claims of being a hero. Most villains who think they’re heroes tend to be misguided zealots, but Jack’s wealth and power have deluded him into thinking of himself as the protagonist of reality. He considers this self-evident, as shown by one of his most famous quotes: “You see, this is what I don’t get about you bad guys. You know the hero’s gonna win, but you just don’t die quickly.”

The tragedy of Handsome Jack’s character is that, despite how obviously false his “hero” shtick is, it’s the only thing keeping his fragile psyche from falling apart. Behind the smug wisecracks, Jack is a deeply unhappy man who gets fiercely irritated and insecure towards any challenge to his power. During the mission “Where Angels Fear to Tread,” Jack’s daughter, Angel, asks the player to kill her so that Jack can no longer exploit her powers, and this causes his facade to finally crack: “Angel, do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed for you? The bandits I've killed, the people I've manipulated - everything I've done was to protect YOU!” Here, Jack is following the classic abuser playbook, claiming that his cruelty towards his daughter was done “for her own good.” However, his love for Angel still comes across as painfully genuine, which begs the question: Why didn’t he just end it there? If Jack truly loved Angel so much, which I am inclined to believe he did, then why did he exploit her for power and profit? The answer he refuses to acknowledge is that, after marinating for so long in his own power and trauma, he no longer feels comfortable with people unless he controls them. Handsome Jack needs to convince himself that his ambitions are driven by heroism, because they’re actually driven by insecurity, and that truth is far too pathetic to handle.

    However, as the song that plays in Borderlands 2’s intro would unsubtly tell you, “This ain’t no place for no hero,” a point which is most effectively demonstrated by Lilith, Brick, and Mordecai, the formerly playable Vault Hunters from the first game. While these characters are valiant in their struggle against Handsome Jack, the harshness of Pandora has made them violent, selfish, and unstable, to the point where they cannot truly be called “heroes.” This is where the game’s mixed tone really works in its favor, because it allows us to first see these ex-Vault Hunters as the quirky badasses they present themselves as, and then as the tragic figures they really are. For example, Mordecai is introduced as a drunken sniper, a contradiction that is treated as a joke in itself. But when Jack kills Mordecai’s companion, Bloodwing, it becomes painfully apparent that the only way he knows how to cope is with violence and booze. I’ve met alcoholics in real life who also present their drinking this way, as a hilarious quirk that makes them fun at parties, but just like with Mordecai, there is always a point where it suddenly stops being funny and starts being incredibly sad.

    For a game I referred to as having “many stumbling blocks,” I’ve spent far more time praising Borderlands 2 than criticizing it, but that’s because what makes it great is far more complex than what makes it bad. It’s easy to see why a random “double rainbow all the way!” joke would be groan-inducing and outdated, and even easier to forget it was in the game to begin with. Conversely, the depths of a character like Handsome Jack can be explored nearly forever - a statement that Gearbox clearly agrees with, seeing as he was a central character in both Tales From the Borderlands and Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel!, as well as a DLC campaign for Borderlands 3. Like its characters, Borderlands 2 is a beautiful mess, and if you’re willing to trudge through the landfill of repeated one-liners and fart noises, you’ll find a gem of storytelling underneath.