As you venture further in, you’ll need to flit from falling bridges to sunken high rises, battling some particularly roguish machines who have somehow managed to wind up making their home here. While my favourite part of this location is the front section, the grandiose skyline of decaying buildings looming large over the nature that conquered it, I think the whole area is equally important.
#Nier automata walkthrough flooded city full
Those first few notes of City Ruins are the only thing vistas like these need to be catapulted straight into the upper echelon of level design because of how pure the mental image, sound, and overall premise of the area is - ask anyone who’s played Automata to imagine the Flooded City and I reckon they’ll be able to weave the full tapestry together in two seconds flat. It’s just a few roaming shots of a new area played out in a ten-second reel, but the level of structural and thematic integrity on display is ridiculous. There’s no dialogue, no lengthy melodrama. Related: Nier Replicant's Endings Have A Lot To Say About TraumaĪlthough you can visit the Flooded City prior to being directed there as part of the story, it doesn’t quite carry the same weight until you make your way through the sewers and are slapped with one of the most nonchalantly brilliant cutscenes I’ve ever seen. Narrow, truncated, and long since desolate, these small and sordid structures feel grisly compared to the far greener City Ruins - this is intentional. Venturing down leads you to a set of sewers, which are mostly unimportant aside from their function in creating a kind of environmental paradox.
After City Ruins, the heart to Automata’s many meandering veins and arteries, changes in Chapter Five, a new set of caves that wrap around the back of the Resistance Camp opens up. It’s worth mentioning our first encounter with this particular locale in order to articulate the sheer gravitas it’s charged with.
No matter how many thousands of hours I’ve played across hundreds of games, nothing has ever come close to eliciting the same wonder and dread as Nier: Automata’s sublime Flooded City. This uncanny, Roadside Picnic-esque ensemble of alien esoterica allows the accompanying piano to double as a sombre haunt, sifting sweetly but sinisterly through the air like some sort of siren song to certain death. There’s something quite ethereal about the scene - gross monuments to humanity and progress being reduced from metropolis to Atlantis before the plummet, ambiguous rubble like cheap decorations in a fish tank. Water rushes through cracks long since battered into hulking heaps of concrete, roaring from the source before softly spilling into a calmer basin.
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