If you care about such things, this post contains plot spoilers for the Assassin’s Creed games (in particular a moment in the latest game, Revelations).

Friday, as I played out its final scenes, Assassin’s Creed: Revelations almost became the first AAA title to actually make me cry. But it ruined the moment before any tears were actually spilt, reserving that privilege for some future game.

But first, a bit of history.

I have loved the Assassin’s Creed franchise more than any other I’ve played. There are a lot of aesthetic reasons for this–from the incredible climbing animation and majestic soundtracks to the temporally-layered narrative and new twists on familiar Templar conspiracy theories. I also appreciate that the games offer social commentary–some subtle, some not–even if it doesn’t always hit the mark.

Speaking of not always hitting the mark, I really appreciate that team(s) behind each game took risks with the design. And as a result the shipped games often seem to hold more promises of greatness rather than actual greatness. Each game has built upon and improved what worked in the previous game, but adds new gameplay elements as well–many of which are rough and imperfectly implemented. Those that hint at greatness appear transformed and improved in subsequent games. Those that fail utterly disappear. This, to me, is far more interesting to play than a game so polished it’s utterly safe and bland.

But the number one thing I find most compelling about Assassin’s Creed is that it is through the gameplay itself that we best come to understand our protagonists–Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, and Desmond Miles. In fact, if we base our understanding of the characters on the interstitial scenes alone they are not only two dimensional, but entirely devoid of interest.

“He’d better stop acting like a child.” That bark* is one of my favorite reactions to Altair scaling a building in the first game. It encapsulates so much of what’s important about both Altair and the failures of the game’s mission design (which in turn reinforce Altair’s character). Altair does act like a child throughout the entirety of the first game. Having clearly been raised within the strict ideological confines of his order, he struggles to understand the political battle he’s swept up in. And because of his innocence–as improbable as an innocent assassin sounds, it’s quite true in this case–he is incapable of interacting with the world as an adult does. He can neither address nor be impacted by the social inequities that surround him, so he clings to the one thing he’s been trained to understand–violence. And although he is skilled in the hidden blade, he uses violence like a hammer–forcing the nail of every situation he encounters into a recognizable and comfortable uniformity. This response to obstacles is typical of an immature mind. The other assassins of his order even treat Altair like a child–setting him on childish quests in exchange for information that he then uses as proof of his fitness for the task ahead, but does not display the maturity of actually applying the information he gathers to the problem at hand.

“Just another capering crusader!” This bark sums up Ezio nicely. He is wise in the ways of being a sexually and financially irresponsible Renaissance young man of privilege, but unaware of his familial involvement with the order of the assassins. Unware, that is, until a sudden tragedy forces him to grow up–just a little bit. Ezio’s introduction into ‘the mysteries’ is filled with the acquisition of better and better toys and he brings a gleeful and light step to the core navigational and murderous gameplay of the series. But he also must learn to be financially prudent and even takes on the role of caretaker of Monteriggioni, improving the property and extending his privilege. He is even able to address the woes of the poor without violence, scattering coins for them to gather. Of course this is a ploy that benefits himself, so don’t misconstrue his actions as benevolence. The tasks set before him are restrictive and chafe compared to the freewheeling life of bounding across rooftops pouncing on unsuspecting blue-collar guards and then pawing their bodies for a few paltry coins. But the tasks mostly leave him to solve them in his own way, so they do not intrude dramatically upon his youthful outlook until late in his first game.

As subsequent games follow Ezio’s life he takes on more and more responsibility. While he can still scatter coins for the poor, he also applies his estate management skills on a larger scale–addressing his community’s poverty with neighborhood revitalization projects. He recruits and trains young people to become more effective in their lives and mentors them, providing career guidance. By the final game he must not only revitalize neighborhoods, but take an active interest in them, working to keep the citizens free and productive. And he does this while staying out of the spotlight, deemphasizing his own importance in the process. He also takes a more direct role in the careers of his proteges, learning them by name, promoting them to positions of higher responsibility, and actively supporting their professional efforts.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Desmond–the “present day” protagonist behind both Altair and Ezio. His arc is slightly more complicated, going from being a powerless cat’s paw to an empowered individual in his own right, capable of holding his own, but then loses himself to the power of his animus experience, embracing his role in creating this shared digital fiction while he ruminates on the path that brought him here.

To some–particularly if you haven’t played the games–it may sound as if I’m basing these character analysis on cut scenes and dialog, but I’m not. If you have played them, you’ll hopefully recognize the actual moments of gameplay that support my analysis.

And now for the near-tears. This is where I become particularly spoilery.

Throughout Revelations, Ezio experiences key memories of Altair–adding another layer of temporal cross-over. These memories include scenes from Altair’s dotage and I thoroughly enjoying tottering around Masyaf. Ezio experiences the final memory after finding Altair’s skeleton, reclined in a chair in a hidden room under the Masyaf fortress. The memory records his final moments and the last mission text you receive is, “Sit down and rest a moment.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I slowly moved towards the chair that I knew to be his final resting point. The thought of sitting Altair down for a final time (complete with a shakier version of his “hide on a bench” animation) was overwhelmingly touching.

And then they took away control to show me Altair sitting down.

I think that may be, hands-down, the single most selfish (or ignorant) design decision I’ve ever witnessed in a AAA title. Throughout Revelations the designers have you perform actions that seem primarily focused on building empathy between the player and the characters of Altair, Desmond, and Ezio. They train you to understand that not all gameplay has to involve free running and air assassinations. They train you that gameplay can exist in service to character development–even when the character being developed isn’t your character. But then, just when all that training is about to pay off and they seem to be on the brink of letting you actively share in a really important character moment they undo all of that work and take over for you.

Frustrating.