Braid: a “Bad Lover” and a “Bad Scientist” Are Pretty Much the Same Thing

In the narrative of Braid, there is an interesting turn in the literary genre by the end of game. Starting out with a chivalric romance storyline, the game suddenly turns into a sharp critique against scientists’ blind pursuit of scientific advancement. I was shocked by the ending not only due to the sudden revelation but also because of how much sense it makes—drawing comparison between a “bad lover” and a “bad scientist”. Braid shows they are pretty much the same thing.

The game is smart to integrate its critique of the atomic bomb with a story in which the boy desperately tries and fails to remedy his past mistakes done to a girl because it makes the critique more relevant to the players. Perhaps very few of the players can identify with the scientists working for the Manhattan Project, I believe plenty of the players can still remember the last time when they sigh in anguish, "What if our world worked differently? Suppose we could tell her: 'I didn't mean what I just said,' and she would say: 'It's okay, I understand,' and she would not turn away, and life would really proceed as though we had never said that thing? We could remove the damage but still be wiser for the experience” (Braid, 2008). Perhaps players do not know the feeling of committing one’s entire lifetime to scientific research but ends up discovering what he has created is a meat grinder, players are familiar with the misery of being misunderstood by their lovers, the agony of having good intentions but resulting in bad outcomes, the guilt when they discover they have been so dedicated in pursuing their goals yet so blind to their lovers’ feelings, the distance and powerlessness when their lovers leave, and the regret when they realize they cannot rewind time and remedy their mistakes. The genius of Jonathan Blow’s Braid is that in its short and abstract narrative, it makes a critique that is very specific yet all-encompassing.