This an ongoing analytical review of the Mass Effect trilogy, with special attention to what the Legendary Edition brings to the table. I loved the progression of the story in the first three games and agreed with many if not most narrative choices by the writing teams, both before and after ME2. I especially disagreed with the critics who panned the ending of ME3, which I thought was near-perfect with or without the extended cut... but then again, I also loved the ending of Lost and think that the second Matrix movie is better than the first, so what do I know.
​
Many years later, let’s play the beautifully remastered Legendary Edition and see if I still agree with my past self!
​
Click each logo for the full review on one page, or scroll down for the links to individual chapters.
FULL REVIEW
FULL REVIEW
FULL REVIEW
You may also download here the full review of all three games in PDF format (work in progress).
Individual links for all 22 parts of the review:
Although the first part of the game stutters with both plot and character development, it introduces all the saga’s main thematic elements and lays the groundwork for the excellent second half of the game. It is not very enjoyable to play, but it is also absolutely necessary, and the Legendary Edition makes it more bearable.
The first three main planets are a hodgepodge of dated level design and stock characters, but lurking beneath a yet-unpolished surface is a captivating plot that will remain central to the entire trilogy: Shepard comes into her own as a leader in the saga’s first real attempt at character development.
Mass Effect uses racism for character development, although it is best defined as cultural speciesism given the absence of systemic oppression in this narrative universe. Yes, Ashley Williams is a bigot, but she’s not the worst bigot in the game, and there are more important aspects of this topic to discuss.
The Reaper plot is fleshed out on Virmire in a conversation with Sovereign, a well-rounded character despite having only a dozen lines in the script. However, we should take its claims about the Reapers with a grain of salt. Sovereign has good reason to misrepresent the Reapers to Shepard, so it makes good critical sense to see his statements as subjective perspective rather than absolute truth.
Ilos is the narrative peak of the first game, rich in breathtaking locations and awe-inspiring dialogue. While it tells us little about the Protheans themselves, it does introduce what ultimately matters about them. The unremarkable Citadel battle is followed by two Council-related choices that should have had a much bigger impact on ME2-3 than they did. The final battle with Saren, though surely apropos from a narrative standpoint, falls flat from a psychological one.
This post recaps the lore and world-building writing choices from ME1 that are particularly relevant to the next two games. While ME1 showcases some seriously brilliant stories, and while the Legendary Edition makes its gameplay a little more tolerable, the game is still mired in trite tabletop-RPG tropes that have aged even worse than its graphics and level design.
The transition to Mass Effect 2 is bold, exciting, and aesthetically pleasing. The writer(s) took a dare that ultimately pays off by the game’s end, though at the outset some plot elements are stretched far too thin and require more suspension of disbelief than players may be willing to invest. Despite this, the start of ME2 is neither self-contradictory nor inconsistent with the ending of ME1.
Shepard’s resurrection is obviously hasty, from the science of it to the analysis of its philosophical and psychological features. While I don’t care about the former, the latter is a more serious issue. For all its attention to character development and growing Shepard into a leader, ME2 is unforgivably cavalier about dissecting the mortality of its protagonist.
ME2 offers weak reasons for writing off Sovereign as a geth ship and for why nobody on the Citadel believes in the Reapers. While not story-breaking, this is a problem that could have been fixed with more attention to detail. Here I offer six simple lines of dialogue that would have patched this hole.
Other than Cerberus, the biggest change in ME2 is the setting. Away from the cushy borders of Council space lies the Terminus Systems frontier. After hearing so much about it in ME1 -- with a hefty dose of Orientalist exoticism, too -- it is a treat to be finally able spend so much time in the galaxy’s backyard. However, the repetitiveness of the first few missions mars this experience somewhat, and the game is surprisingly harder to get into than it has any right to be.
Part 11: Loyalty Isn’t Grey
The loyalty missions in ME2 are a creative and innovative mechanic that adds much to the experience and that is excellent buildup for ME3. Their quality ranged from good to excellent, and all succeed in advancing what is arguably the game’s main goal: to develop Shepard into a galactic-wide leader with enough clout and charisma to be able to unite the galaxy under one banner.
Part 12: The Delusive Man
The main story missions in ME2 are puzzling, dramatic, and full of potential plot contrivances. While they make decent sense if we keep in mind the final goal of the game, they showcase a needlessly cryptic Illusive Man (a naïve writing choice to create drama where there should be none) and a Shepard who is far too trusting (this too, presumably, to prop up the plot artificially).
Part 13: God Is a Verb
Despite the obvious contrivances of having a de facto deus ex machina, as discussed in Part 12, the derelict Reaper is the most fascinating, engaging, and all-around awe-inducing mission of the whole trilogy. It is pure Mass Effect lore, seamlessly intertwining challenging combat with a creepy story arc focusing on indoctrination... and a surprise ally at the end.
Part 14: The Suicide Mission
ME2 ends with a bang—literally, if you choose the most popular of the two final options. But the spectacular cinematics merely cap off a well-designed mission with rewarding combat and innovative choose-your-squad mechanics. Few AAA titles grant players this level of choice, and although the final tally of who lives or dies may feel like a lottery, if one has been following the plot carefully it is quite possible to make erudite choices. So even though there is only one possible ending (in many flavors), careful squad administration is required to get the best outcome in terms of survival.
Part 15: Damn Legendary Content (DLC)
The DLC (downloadable content) additions to ME2 are more than afterthoughts. When spaced out carefully, they become an integral part of the game’s experience and even change the overall plot interpretation. Their sheer amount (21 in the original release, all included in the Legendary Edition from the start) and size (20+ hours of extra gameplay) merit separate, analysis, especially as some pave the way for story arcs that matter to ME3.
Part 16: The Death of Gaia
Unlike ME2, the start of ME3 is relatively awkward and requires a little more time to get into, and this despite the trilogy’s best cinematic (leaving Earth). For all the buildup in the first two games, when the Reapers actually attack it is very sudden and rings a bit hollow. Although “sudden” is precisely how it must feel to the characters, the script asks a great deal of players to immediately care about a besieged Earth and immerse themselves in the story and the characters. Fortunately, the next two missions (Mars and Citadel) quickly establish ME3 as a serious and thoughtful drama.
Part 17: Quid Pro Quo
Building on ME2’s assemble-your-team, ME3 is best described as this-for-that: Shepard needs help for Earth, so she turns to the Turians; but the Turians need the Krogan for Palaven; but the Krogan need a cure from the Salarians; but the Salarians won’t give it; etc. So the story quickly turns into a political give-and-take depending on each race’s most pressing need. Not only is all of this realistic, as each species look out for themselves in their hour of need, but it’s also compelling, forcing Shepard to look beyond human interests and develop a more diverse moral understanding than in the previous games.
Part 18: The Gentle Genocide
Few issues in the trilogy are more heavily philosophical than the artificial uplifting of the Krogan and their consequent forced sterilization through the genophage. These are incredibly demanding topics that ME1 introduces and that ME2 and ME3 develop in fine detail. Through a cornucopia of fascinating conversations with Shepard and among NPCs, the authors reveal a nuanced understanding of the morality of genocide that is totally unusual for this sort of medium. In fact, from a purely philosophical viewpoint, the genophage (not the organics-synthetic conflict) is the trilogy’s narrative high point.
Part 19: Coup d’Éclat
The Citadel coup, orchestrated by Cerberus with the help of Udina, is useless to the story, badly written, and hastily realized. While it is spectacular and full of éclat, it does not advance the plot significantly. It feels like an artificial contrivance devised solely to justify a few dramatic moments that wouldn’t have found room in the script otherwise: Thane’s death, Ashley-Kaidan’s confrontation with Shepard, and bringing consciousness of the war to the Citadel. These are all important and valid, but ending up in this kitchen sink of a mission helps absolutely no one.
Part 20: A Home on Rannoch
The geth-Quarian conflict finds a dramatic and exciting resolution after two games’ worth of buildup. While not perfect, this is the moment in the trilogy where the player’s past choices matter the most, although the repercussions for the rest of ME3 are surprisingly mild. Fan-favorites Tali and Legion steal the show with a series of exceptional conversations about the plight of AIs in a universe dominated by organics.
Part 21: The Mass Relay Baton
The single most fascinating element of the Mass Effect saga is the cyclical nature of civilization in the Milky Way galaxy. Each cycle realizes too late that it is ripe for the harvest and can no longer be saved, but in doing so it also thinks forward to the next iteration. Each cycle adds to the blueprints for the Crucible, knowing that while this knowledge may not save them, it may give a chance to someone, some time, some place. This act of timeless faith, combined with the sacrifice of the last Protheans who gave their lives to delay the harvest, portrays a jaw-dropping picture of a galaxy-wide relay race millions of years in the making, where the baton of resistance is passed across billions of claws, wings, and hands—until it lands, fatefully, in Shepard’s.
Part 22: The “Perfect” Ending
All endings are flawed in some way, and this one is no exception. In fact, few video games have elicited more outrage than Mass Effect 3, and its ending is the main culprit. Described as rushed, incomplete, contradictory, and badly-written, it enraged die-hard fans and left newcomers puzzled or disappointed. The extended cut patch and the “Leviathan” DLC fixed some of these issues, but no band-aid could fix a plot that many players saw as inherently self-defeating due to its radical departure from the premises laid out over three games. Conversely, I think that while its presentation is surely rushed and falls way short of perfection, the ending elevates the trilogy from a “great” science-fiction saga to a “superlative” one. This essay is the longest of my review. I argue that while the script may appear to conflict with the games’ choice-based nature, in fact it represents perfectly the trilogy’s main theme, namely whether the future should reflect the past and what could be gained or lost by breaking new ground. Any potential improvements to the ending would be cosmetic and not substantive, and here I do recommend a few. But from a standpoint of drama, narration, and moral clarity, the ending is almost as good as it could and should have been for a space opera of this magnitude.