The thing that surprised me most about the whole "Mass Effect 3 Ending" debacle wasn't the fact that it became as heated as it did. It wasn't even the fact that so many fans gave so much of a damn over it that they raised thousands of dollars, flooded YouTube and Twitter, and bought hundreds of Edmonton cupcakes. It was the fact that I learned so much about so many things: everything from why some stories can or can't end well, to how so many people can come to care so much about something, to the difference between "creative integrity" (yes, it's a real thing) and "creative ownership" (yes, there's a difference). I could go on and on. Ultimately I think this whole thing was an incredibly positive experience for Bioware, for its fans, and for the gaming industry as a whole (though it probably doesn't look that way from where we stand today).

I imagine that the people over at Bioware are still recovering from the mass outcry of fans that began some weeks after the game's launch and, to some extent, continues to this day. To me, it's apparent that the game was a labor of love, and it irks me when complainers keep chalking it up to "laziness" on Bioware's part. This largely smells of ignorance, I believe, because I'm fairly certain that even lesser games still require at least a dozen people working their asses off. Video games are hard to make. And Mass Effect 3 isn't a lesser game; in fact, it's a pretty damn stunning game for the most part.

I think that the failure of the endings stem from two things that are inherently connected: the first being that Bioware possibly doesn't realize just how good they are at what they do, and the second being that they may have misjudged just exactly what kind of thing they've created here. Please note from hereon in that this article is just one of countless zillions of other attempts at Internet validation, so of course everything here is my opinion only. As such, what I've observed is that I can't really think of many other games that would have sparked this much of an outcry from its fans - because how many **** do people give about this one lowly game series among the multitude of others out there? The answer is, it seems, A LOT. Bioware should wear a badge of honour that says, "We make games that people love SO MUCH that they will actually incite internet warfare if they feel our games didn't meet their expectations". I mean, games fail to meet gamers' expectations all the time - pretty much on a regular basis. But not many have actually inspired its gamers to communicate with the developers to make the game better. And by communicate I mean "rage", "overload the forums", "dominate gaming news headlines", and "create complex theories to attempt to validate what the developers gave them as something better than it actually was". If that's not passion and dedication, I don't know what is.

So what do I mean when I say that Bioware isn't aware of how good they are? I mean that they are so good at creating unique, loveable (not teddy-bear loveable, but real-love-interest-loveable) characters that when they mess with them, people will be MAD. Like, REALLY MAD. These characters they make are so good that people start seeing them like their characters. The thing about Bioware games is that plotlines and stories aren't their forte; the heart and soul is always in the characters. Granted, the plots and stories are better than average, but not by much; they generally follow a solid but predictable "good versus evil" hero's journey, with shades of grey added to the mix. This might all sound like a negative thing but it isn't, because they've used this formula as a solid, effective foundation for their stunning character ensembles. And this is where they really shine, far above any other game developer I've seen: they make the story about the characters, as opposed to the other way around. When they tried to depart from this formula in Dragon Age 2, the result was a commendable effort but ultimately an inferior game; it had a more unique storyline, but its characters were weaker and less memorable. Take Anders, for example: he is a passionately pro-mage advocate. Other than that, what is he? Does he have a sense of humor? (hmm?.maybe a bit, but not much.) Is he funny? (No.) Is he nice? (uh?I guess so?) In the end I started to get irritated with him because the only thing he ever talked about was the injustice towards mages. All in all, he is a character who almost exclusively serves the plot, but the plot doesn't serve to develop him. The same can be said for most of the other characters. And the plot itself, while more unique than other Bioware games, isn't particularly strong either; sure the whole mage-templar thing is murky, but murky doesn't necessarily mean more compelling.

This is where Mass Effect 3's ending went wrong: the series as a whole was based on the standard hero's journey, all throughout Mass Effect 1 and 2. The hero's journey, in turn, is about the people the hero meets and the decisions he makes based on what he learns from his relationships with them. There was a very defined "good" (Shepard, though you could grey him/her up a bit with renegade leanings) and a very defined "evil" (the Reapers - big, impersonal, unemotional destructo-bots, aka. the perfect standard villain). Perhaps Bioware thought that such "standard" fare was a weakness, and tried to "improve" it by throwing in some murk in the form of the Catalyst. Instead, the result was an ending that was abrupt, confusing, and asynchronous to the series' overall tone. Imagine if Frodo and Sam, standing at the pit of Mordor in "Return of the King", suddenly encountered an apparition of Sauron who said "I created the Ring to destroy Men to prevent them from destroying each other and the entire world!" It's a twist that seems to be thrown in for the sake of having a twist and, er, lots of speculation for everyone. No - Lord of the Rings was a run-of-the-mill hero's journey, and it's still one of the greatest literary classics in existence. It didn't have a complex villain, and in fact it had very few shades of grey. But it went for the standard hero's journey, and did it perfectly. Recall with me the climax of the Return of the King's film version: the Ring melts away in lava, Sauron explodes with a fantastic supersonic boom that engulfs the land and scatters the Orcs, the united armies of Middle Earth stare in awe and disbelief, and Frodo and Sam make their victorious escape from the Black Mountain. It was breathtaking, it was simple, and it was climactic: the Ring is finally destroyed.But Mass Effect - by throwing the intentions of the main antagonist for a loop - ends up taking the story's focus away from the characters we've come to know and love, and placing it instead on this strange new plot twist.

Let's face it: the Mass Effect series is built on the same skeleton as the Lord of the Rings, which is why I'm using it so extensively as an example. You have your mindless, orc-like minions in the hundreds that you don't mind killing, you have your looming evil overlord, your key character who once was good but fell under the influence of evil (Illusive Man), and finally your champion who will overcome dissent and unite the world to battle evil, supported by a tightly-knit group of misfits. This story already has an ending: the hero wins, evil is vanquished, and everyone lives happily ever after. If you start your story on this path, you damn well better follow through all the way to the end.

A lot of players felt betrayed by the original endings largely because of this sudden departure from that path, and yet a lot of that was due simply to the fact that many things were unclear. Such as: did I just destroy the Mass Relays and screw everyone over? And why? Are the Reapers not actually evil anymore? And are my friends screwed too? And am I really bound to the logic of this deus ex machina that I've never seen before in the series, to make a choice that was never foreshadowed either? Thankfully, the Extended Cut helps to somewhat set the story back onto the path of "happily ever after" by clearing these plot holes, and the last shot of the Normandy flying off the planet is the proper tone this time around. It doesn't help the fact that the sense of a big, cathartic climax is missing (I think it's supposed to be the part with the sad and gentle piano music in the background), or the fact that the Catalyst guy is still there. In fact, the Extended Cut can't fix that part because the whole Catalyst thing was flawed from the very beginning of the game. Interestingly, it's both the game's strongest plot device (in that it ties the motif of the little boy from the very beginning to Shepard's dream sequences, and finally as a sort of "metaphor" as the Catalyst) and also the weakest (in that the recurring motif is actually not related in any way to the Catalyst, and thus is functionally useless in everything but appearances). Somehow, this one character manages to make and break the plot at the same time; with him, the plot has continuity but no sense, and without him, the plot is disjointed, though perhaps a bit more coherent. Bioware couldn't remove the Star Child thing (despite the pleas of many fans) because it would break the whole game's story. Nevertheless, I do think that they did a good job working with what they had for the Extended Cut, and they made the best of what they could.

Which brings us to the question: should Bioware have made the Extended Cut at all, if it couldn't fix the core of the problem in the first place? Did they lose any "artistic integrity" by doing so? The answer to both questions can be answered by another question: did Bioware make the Extended Cut because of their own need to add more insight to the story? They claim the answer to that was "yes"; I believe it was Casey Hudson who said something like, "we love the series as much as the fans do, and we wanted more time to say goodbye to our story". Meanwhile, I kept my eyes peeled throughout the DLC for signs that they indeed added more to the story, rather than simply explaining what was already there. The result was that I did, in fact, catch small glimpses of evidence that they fleshed out more of the story and created something we hadn't seen before. One example is the "secret" fourth ending, in which we get to see Liara's time capsule; I thought this part was well-done, it flowed perfectly with what the series previously provided, and it was a poignant, understated way to tell us "everybody died" without needing to show us. Another example is the brief moment when Joker is frantically trying to rescue Shepard, but is stopped by a crew member; not only does this explain why Joker was leaving Earth, but it also gives us an official, final "parting" moment with the crew, as well as a moving sort of goodbye to Joker. In a way, this scene provided a lot more closure than when you see your crew mates disembark the Normandy on Jungle Planet.

All of these additions were subtle, but they were still there. And although these appearances may seem minute, they're important because they change the meaning of the DLC: if all Bioware did was explain away plot holes, then the DLC wouldn't be much more than fanservice. But if they do add something new to the story, then we can interpret the DLC as an affirmation of their "creative integrity" (as in "Yes, we're sticking to our guns, and we're going to show you why"). Mass Effect 3 is not art, for the simple fact that is was created primarily to cater to a client/consumer in exchange for a profit. An artist might say, "screw you, me and my art don't need your input and your money anyway. I'M the artist here." However, a designer says, "All right - you're unhappy. Let's discuss this and see how we can fix it." You can argue that design is "applied art": that is, art with the purpose of fulfilling a specific function. The main difference is that art can exist without consideration of its audience, whereas design is made specifically for that audience. In this light, I wholeheartedly agree that Mass Effect 3 is design. An artist can stick to his creative integrity solely on the basis of authorship; a designer, on the other hand, must have a reason. His authorship is conditionally based on how well he is meeting his audience's expectations. If he refuses to communicate with his audience, then he won't be able to make something his audience appreciates.

Heavy semantic discussion aside, most of the issues people have with Mass Effect 3 are actually inherent throughout the game, and not just to the ending. We'd never heard of the Catalyst in previous games; we expected our choices to have a true, visceral impact on our endgame, as opposed to merely a number on a console (something a la Dragon Age: Origins, in which you actually deployed the armies you gathered); we expected the resolution of the game to focus on the achievement of uniting the galaxy, as opposed to the "organics versus synthetics" conflict. Yet, I did get a lot of satisfaction from the Extended Cut. I actually almost couldn't bring myself to watch the part where the love interest puts the plaque on the memorial - it was so damn sad (and in a good way)! And I did feel that the story was really over. But above all else, as I replayed the whole ending sequence from the Cronos base, I had a blast shooting aliens and remembered just how much fun I had. Despite its flaws, this was a great game, and because of everything that happened - whether good, bad or ugly - the games in the future can only be greater still.

I'll admit that I'm not as enraged as a great many other players are about the Mass Effect series' ending. (Admittedly though, I've only recently become immersed in the Mass Effect world; I haven't been around for the past five years reading the novels and comics, or collecting the art and action figures.) However, I didn't feel much of anything at all as I watched the end credits roll.

I felt profound sadness when Shepard had the last conversation with Anderson. I even felt a poignant sadness when I watched Shepard leap into a big beam of light, knowing that this was the end of the road.

However, for the rest of the time, I felt…quizzical. When the kid walked up to me and said "I am the Catalyst", I thought, "huh." And as he spoke more, I thought: "So you're God, basically." Logically, I figured that this made sense and spoke of a possibly interesting philosophical side (what if humanity's idea of God was actually this AI, all along? Interesting.)

Then he started talking about the three choices, and I was reminded uncomfortably of that scene in Matrix Revolutions when Neo stands before an essentially all-powerful bearded guy in a suit, who says "pick the door on your left or the door on your right". Literally, when the Catalyst finished rattling off my options, my first thought was: "wait, what was that last part again?" I looked at the three beams of light. Now, as an unspoken artistic rule, the option that's in the middle is always the best option. And from what I could recall, the Catalyst had basically said that this one was the "best" option: no synthetics or organics die, everyone's happy. Although I die, presumably.

At this point I felt a twinge of annoyance. I never, ever saw the whole "organics/synthetics" debate as THE definitive theme of the Mass Effect series. Sure, it was an intriguing theme, and some of my favourite moments were watching EDI and Legion become truly autonomous beings. Their arguments about the ethics of synthetics were some of the most interesting conversations, in my opinion. But NEVER did I think that this was the whole point of my journey. Why? Because the Reapers are the enemy of EVERYONE. The whole point of my epic three-episode battle was to stop the immutable, unstoppable force that would end all free will and life as we know it by uniting everyone in the galaxy. Unity in spite of vast cultural, political, and racial differences was the definitive theme of these stories (not the same as homogeneity, as the Synthesis ending seems to suggest).

As soon as the options were presented, I felt detached from the story. I honestly at that moment did not really care about which "door" to pick, simply because they all spoke in the language of large, impersonal magnitudes. Remember how Mordin once said that saving the galaxy was not something he could really fight for, since it was too big a place to really grasp? And then he says he'll fight for his favourite nephew instead? This was a brilliant moment in the game for me (I believe it was Mass Effect 2). So at this moment, when this literal deus ex machina pops up and asks if I feel like saving the whole galaxy or only some parts of it, the implications went over my head. Never mind the other questions I had, such as "seems like organics and synthetics can get along just fine…" or "why does this Catalyst even care? Why not just let the Reapers finish all of us off and stop wasting resources on this pointless 50K year cycle? Or why not just let organics live on and then destroy themselves with their own eventual synthetic super-creations, which would happen without your intervention anyway, and which would ultimately have the same outcome? Ultimately, whether by their own hand or the Reapers, these civilizations are (apparently) doomed. So why not just let things take their natural course?

Questions like these had a few seconds to flash before my mind as I stood, puzzling, before my limited options. I understood several things implicitly: to create a meaningful ending, the storytellers wanted me to have to sacrifice myself. I sort of knew since the beginning that Shepard would have to die. And I was ok with that, and to some extent agreed that no happy ending could justify the devastation that the game wanted to convey. But the purposes for which I was sacrificing myself just felt so superficial. I recall Garrus saying something about how, if we find ourselves reduced to brutal calculus during the war, we've already lost - and yet here I am in that very situation. If you choose Option A, you will gain X but lose Y. If you choose Option B, you will lose X but gain Y. If you choose Option C, you will gain X and Y. The transparency of this kind of algebra - not to mention that it's ridiculously clear which is the "best" option - irked me. Plus my death was guaranteed in all of them.

So I went with C. There was, after all, the chance that this wasn't really all over, right? The truly epic part that I was expecting hadn't begun yet, after all - the part in Lord of the Rings where the nations of Men united against Sauron in that final battle, or the part in Star Wars where Luke faces off with the evil Emperor, or the part in Avatar where the united Navi clans face the evil human army. No, I figured, sh*t had yet to get real, so I'd go along with it.

I watched as my Shepard's face began withering and melting away and thought "well, looks like I'm really dead". I was sad at that part, of course; it sucks that Shepard has to die. I liked Shepard. And it sucks that I'd no longer be playing as him/her. But I respected it as a creative decision from the storytellers and I kept watching, eager to see the Reapers at least getting ass-kicked out of my galaxy, and to see my beloved friends on Earth pump their fists in the air, perhaps in tears, and call my name. Or something. I trusted the storytellers to provide me with some kind of emotional catharsis at that point. Show me that through my sacrifice, I attained victory for the rest of civilization.

Instead, the quiet piano chimed in, and I watched as the ending quietly played out before me. Quietly, the mass relays exploded (wait - I didn't know that would happen! I thought if I picked…?). And….did I just screw over everyone I brought to Earth? Now they can't leave? And then quietly the Reapers left Earth. Then I watched Joker racing away from a big rolling blast of energy (did I just effectively n-bomb my whole solar system? If not then why is Joker booking it the hell out of there?)

Finally I see that the Normandy has crash-landed….somewhere. EDI and Joker embrace, how cute. Whoa, Joker has eerie green eyes…is he some sort of weird robo-Joker now? Looks like Kaidan made it out too. He doesn't seem too upset that I'm DEAD. Did anyone else survive? And how the hell did Kaidan get back on the ship anyway? And why are they on this random planet? Are they now all doomed to survive in the wilderness like bushmen, stranded in this alien solar system? I mean, the ship is all but destroyed. Not to mention the mass relays.

The biggest question mark floating in my head, as the end credits rolled, was "soooo what happened to everyone???" What happened to the billions of people in the Sol system? But not only that: where was everyone, even while I was back on Earth, holding off waves of husks with my three-man squad? At least, I thought the Rachni queen would come storming in at some point and save my ass. Do you mean to tell me that all those difficult moral decisions amounted to nothing but a numerical value on that console in the war room? I won't even get a cutscene to reward me for bringing lasting peace between the geth and the quarians?

All these questions took the form of the underwhelming feeling of "this is it, isn't it". (Oh Liara, how right you were.) And then I watched the old man and the child talking about me and referring to me as "the Shepard". Well that's nice….except that I don't care about these people. I care about my squad mates. I care about the fleets that I worked so hard to gather. I resisted kicking Diana Allers off my ship just in case it would make any difference to my endgame.

The thing about this whole debacle is that the story neglected to do one very simple thing: provide emotional catharsis. I was ready to accept almost any level of plot inconsistency or suspension of disbelief, if it meant that by the end I was in tears and was thinking "damn, I really did just save the galaxy." Instead, I got a long-winded, coldly rational explanation for what was arguably the least important part of the plot: the reason behind the Reaper attacks. I had actually spent the first two games believing we would never know why the Reapers wanted us all dead; it would be "beyond my comprehension" (you know what, it still IS beyond my comprehension.) Just like how Star Wars never needed to tell us why Darth Vader became evil, we don't need to know why the Reapers are the way they are. What we DO need to know is, what was the point of it all? How did I, as the most badass human around, make a dent in the universe? Don't just tell it to me ("Shepard became a legend and made the Reapers go away"). SHOW me. Show me the future I paved for all civilization with my sacrifice. At the very least, show me what happened to my friends - ALL of them. Because they're the ones I care about in this story, more so even than the fate of all of humanity and all the other aliens.

Still grasping at straws, I thought, "well maybe this is just ONE of the endings. This is Mass Effect, after all!" So I reloaded a save and tried Option A. And the only difference was that the color of light changed, and that EDI didn't disembark from the Normandy. That was when I officially stopped caring about the choice I had made. And gave up all hope of expecting what I had expected the ending would be.

Do I think the developers have to make a new ending? No - or rather, ONLY if they want to. I do not believe they are obligated to make something else, despite the fact that many, many people were unsatisfied with the ending. I do believe that this was a lesson to be learned to painful way, and that as a result their next game will be all the better for it. I don't fault them or think that they were lazy, but I do believe this was an unfortunate misstep in an otherwise stunning series of games. The fact is, stories with sh*tty endings are everywhere; it's just that in this day and age, in this industry, it's a lot more possible for the consumer to lambast the creators. At this point, the story has been released and cannot be undone; anything further from this point, whether by DLC or not, would be nothing more than a PR move, UNLESS the creators themselves feel like they do, in fact, have more to say about the story itself. We can't change the fact that the ending happened - as crappy as it seems. I feel for Bioware, in fact; as a creative professional, I know how much it sucks to have to sacrifice creative integrity to please the masses. But I don't share the belief that videogames are an art form, and thus I won't lose respect for them if they cave and give fans their damn DLC. And on the other hand, I think that the fans have good points in pointing out the weaknesses of the ending; what if, with their feedback in mind, you created a better ending (and thus better overall story) than you ever could have on your own? It's your call, Bioware. But I still respect and support you either way.