Binary Domain’s Consequence System: Defining “Human”

If it’s indistinguishable from humans, where does the machine end and life begin?“

Binary Domain is criminally underrated game. A competent shooter that we might call Gears of War meets Vanquish by way of Snatchers, it is deftly directed by Toshihiro Nagoshi and Daisuke Sato into one of modern gaming’s best forays into the realm of cyperpunk. It is a game that has a lot to say about the nature of the soul, the power of existential forces such as fear, and what it truly means to be human. To get an idea, take a look.

Now, that’s not the deepest look at transhumanism in modern media but there’s still more going on than your average cover shooter. Narratively, Binary Domain retains all the affectations that come as a result of Eastern cultural touches being funneled into a Western framework, as well as genuine love for the pulp that inspired it. This keeps it from being a truly great work and makes it a bit "gamey” but nonetheless it is a game with things to say.

A proper narrative analysis of Binary Domain may be tempting but we’re far more interested in what it is doing ludically. I content that the game succeeds just as much as saying something with its core systems and mechanics as it might with the narrative. They complement each other to offer real commentary that, although trite, is very well delivered.

Central to this is the game’s Consequence/Trust system and voice command options. In Binary Domain, every member of the team’s squad has a trust meter that can shift based on certain factors. The level of trust will change how readily teammates will follow commands and have a large effect on the game’s endings. In some cases, trust is modified through conversations. In others, it is altered in reaction to player’s performance in the field. Strong, skillful play elicits trust from the squad’s AI.

Complementing this system is the fact that the player might issue voice commands through a headset or the Kinect. Recognition is not perfect but there are a fair share of commands that the game accepts. Without a mic, dialog options and in combat commands are limited but still allow for a level of interaction with the squad.

So, let’s talk about what these systems say within the context of the possibility space. At it’s core, Binary Domain wants to ask what it means to be human. Can sufficiently advanced robots qualify? What about individuals that surpass what we understand as “life”? This is expressed through two squadmates in particular: Cain and Faye.

Cain is a robot assigned as a partner to the French member of the “Rust Crew”. When his partner dies, he falls in with the rest of the squad. Cain is remarkably eloquent, shows concern for his peers, and even possesses something of a sense of humor. Yet, by his own admission, these are constructed behaviors. For instance, he regrets the death of his partner but not out of emotional investment. Rather, he understands that the death is regrettable in a cold, utilitarian fashion.

The notion of constructed behaviors is important because that’s precisely what the behaviors of all squad members in the game are: they are artificial reactions limited by the bounds of the game’s systems. The human characters of the squad, examining the game as a game, are just AI NPCs.

To raise trust with any member of the squad, you don’t need to commit radically different actions. Charlie, a human companion, will generate trust the same way Cain does. Shoot a ton of heads off enemy robots? They both applaud your skill. Respond correctly to dialog prompts, the meter goes up. And all throughout, on a meta level, you’re just barking commands to scripted AI characters through your headset.

In this, the game’s mechanics do not separate Cain from any human member of the team. Cain is, mechanically, just as “human” as any other teammate. Indeed, with his trust high enough, he returns in the game’s climax to take a blow that would otherwise kill Rachel. Trust and strong “friendship” leads him to risk his existence to save someone else’s. Sure, it’s a bit on the trite side but the end result is a narrative judgement backed up by the mechanics: Cain is just as human as anyone else.

This is further backs up by the inclusion of Faye in the squad. The single biggest twist of the game comes when the Rust Crew discovers that Hollow Children (robots so advanced that they blend in with humans and aren’t even aware they are robots) can actually mate with humans. Female Hollow Children can give birth to hybrids that are utterly indistinguishable from “real” humans. Faye is one of 108 Hybrids that exist across the globe.

But, like Cain, Faye exhibits nothing that marks her as “different”. She bleeds like a human, loves Dan, and, from a mechanics perspective, as was the case with Cain, doesn’t have any notable difference from the human members of the Rust Crew. In fact, her doubt upon understanding her nature is fundamentally human and when pitted against the Rust Crew in a dramatic gun fight, she can reply to a myriad of voiced responses to the questions she poses Dan and, by proxy, the player.

By having the player engage with their AI squadmates as well as offering no difference between human characters or artificial characters backs up the narrative’s conclusion that “humanity” is far more define by our behavior towards others than mere genetics. It is a question of the souls and not of the flesh.