Yoko Taro’s Creative Journey in Game Development
Nier: Automata stands as a testament to the complexities of storytelling in video games, inviting players into a labyrinth of dead ends, unexpected twists, and a staggering 26 possible endings. For those who have yet to experience its intricate narrative, tread carefully—spoilers abound. The game’s director, Yoko Taro, reflects on his creative process, revealing a journey that often left him as bewildered as the players themselves.
In a recent interview with Archipel, Taro donned his signature “Emil” mask, a nod to one of the beloved characters from the Nier universe. He candidly shared that the inception of Automata was anything but straightforward. “I had no idea where to start,” he admits, emphasizing his desire for a fresh perspective with each project. “I wanted a new starting point each time, something different to write.”
As he reminisces about the development of Automata, Taro expresses a sense of acceptance regarding his creative endeavors. “Looking back, I don’t really have any regrets,” he states. “I’ve never felt like I carried out anything completely. It feels more like a task.” He likens storytelling to sculpting a cube from clay—an ongoing process of refinement. “You make it, but every time you look at it, you find a side that’s crooked,” he explains.
This continuous cycle of adjustment and the looming pressure of deadlines often leads to a bittersweet conclusion. “As you keep adjusting it, the deadline finally hits, and you need to stop,” Taro reflects. “At that moment, you start feeling that it somehow turned out all right. But shortly after, you see some crooked parts once again.”
Taro’s insights resonate with many in the creative field. “There are certain pieces you work and work at but are never quite happy with,” he notes, acknowledging the inevitability of deadlines. Years later, revisiting those works can evoke a sense of nostalgia, akin to rediscovering a long-forgotten piece of art. “Three years later, you’d look again and feel it looks like a nice cube again,” he muses. “Your feeling towards it keeps evolving.”
Despite the imperfections that linger, Taro finds solace in the effort invested. “I never had that feeling of having made the perfect cube or the perfect scenario,” he admits. “However, after some time, I could feel like I made the necessary efforts.”
Ultimately, Taro embraces the transient nature of creativity. “If I had infinite time and resources, I’d keep working on that cube forever,” he confesses. Yet, he acknowledges the necessity of closure. “There’s a need to put a stop at some point. Then the time just comes. You don’t get to be fully satisfied, but it ultimately comes to an end.” This bittersweet realization is accompanied by a tinge of sadness, but it also fuels his drive to begin anew, always aspiring to perfect that next cube.
