Lex Fridman plays The Stanley Parable

As if real life didn't have enough opportunities for an existential crisis. Let us play friends for a time, a game that I think simulates one, or so I hear. I'll try to play a video game once or twice a month for the fun of it. I previously played Cyberpunk 2077. Now let's play the Stanley Parable, which is a game that a bunch of people told me about that I absolutely must play. Please check out our sponsors, Triolabs, which is a machine learning company, and Vincero Watches. One is to make your robots smarter, the other is to make them show up on time. Choose wisely my friends, the robots are watching. Okay, now on to the game. You are playing the Stanley Parable. I find it always useful when the world tells you who you are, and where you are, and what you're doing. Okay, let's begin the game. This is the story of a man named Stanley. Stanley worked for a company in a big building where he was employee number 427. Employee number 427's job was simple. He sat at his desk in room 427, and he pushed buttons on the keyboard. Orders came to him through a monitor on his desk, telling him what buttons to push, how long to push them, and in what order. This is what employee 427 did every day, every month, of every year. And although others might have considered it soul-eating, Stanley relished every moment that the orders came in. As though he had been made exactly for this job. And Stanley was happy. And then one day, something very peculiar happened. Something that would forever change Stanley. Something he would never quite forget. He had been at his desk for nearly an hour, when he realized that not one single order had arrived on the monitor for him to follow. No one had showed up to give him instructions, call a meeting, or even say hi. Never in all his years at the company had this happened. This complete isolation. Something was very clearly wrong. Shocked, frozen solid, Stanley found himself unable to move for the longest time. But as he came to his wits and regained his senses, he got up from his desk and stepped out of his office. The moment of awakening. Here we go. Let's look around. A mug that says, I hate Mondays. There's something about office work that serves as a good metaphor for the meaningless ritual of the human condition. Here we go. Let's look around. This place, void of humans. What am I? I'm number 427, that's right. Me. I'm Stanley. All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo. Life is so much easier with a narrator. Where shall we go for this meeting room? Let's go straight. There's a lot of possibilities. A lot of doors. No people. Lots of, I hate Mondays, mugs. When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left. Where there is an overarching centralized power telling you what to do. What do you actually do? And on top of that, a metaphor for free will. Sam Harris enters the chat. Okay, this is literally, the choice here means, is there free will? We know that Sam Harris would choose the door on the left, because there's no free will. It's an illusion. Let's try to prove Sam Harris wrong. This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and Stanley knew it perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to stop by the employee lounge first, just to admire it. Of course, free will already knew I was going to do that. Ah, yes, truly a room worth admiring. It had really been worth the detour after all, just to spend a few moments here in this immaculate, beautifully constructed room. Stanley simply stood here, drinking it all in. Happy with that, Sam Harris? Free will is not an illusion, it's real. Yes, really, really worth it being here in the room. A room so utterly captivating, that even though all your co-workers have mysteriously vanished, here you sit looking at these chairs and some paintings. Really worth it. It is worth it. Life is about the detours, my friend. At this point, Stanley's obsession with this room bordered on creepy, and reflected poorly on his overall personality. It's possible that this is why everyone left. This voice sounds a lot like my own inner voice, full of self-doubt. Step at last, he'd had enough of the amazing room, and took the first open door on his left to get back to business. The first open door on his left. Alright. That detour paid off, but now it's time to get back to the Sam Harris path. And so he detoured through the maintenance section, walked straight ahead to the opposite door, and got back on track. Come on. One of life's rules is no matter what the man tells you, when there's a big glowing red button telling you to do something else, you must do it. But Stanley didn't want to go back to the office. He wanted to wander about, and get even further off track. So now in order to get back, he needed to go, um... Uh... Uh... Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh... From here, it's, um... Left. So many choices. Oh, no. No, it's to the right, my mistake. It's locked. Projection. Another life's lesson. Accept rejection. Well... Don't accept it, try the door. I don't know how to kick the door down, but... David Goggins would knock the door down. No, no, no, no, not the right. Why would I have ever said it was to the right? What was I thinking? It's clearly... Oh, dear, would you hold on for a minute, please? Now, let's see, we went down right, left, down, left, right... Yep, yep, okay, okay, yes. I've got it now. This story is absolutely, definitely this way. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, this isn't right at all. You're not supposed to be here yet. This is all a spoiler. Quick, Stanley, close your eyes. Okay, okay, okay, okay, we just... Fired....back to, um... Ah! It's all rubbish now. I took the red pill... I took the red pill......and escaped the Matrix. Fair enough. This game's amazing. And it starts right over. Reincarnation. And yet I keep the memories......of the journeys of the past. Let's go. All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo. These computers with the CRT monitors, remember those? I used to have two CRT monitors......back before it was cool. Last time, people told me that I don't know......how to aim the gun. And I realized how much of a noob I am. Especially as first-person shooters. When Stanley... Wait. Wait, what? No, I... No, I restarted. I swear, I definitely restarted the game over, completely fresh. Everything should be... Oh, did something change? Stanley, did you change anything when we were back in that room with all the monitors? Did you move the story somewhere, or... Hold on. Why am I asking you? I'm the one who wrote the story. It was right here just a minute ago. So this is God? The voice of God. It's an adventure. Come, Stanley. Let's find the story. I'll say it. This is the worst adventure I've ever been on. I can promise you, there definitely was a story here before. Do we just... Do we need to restart the game again? I find it unlikely that we'll ever progress by starting over and over again, but it's got to be better than this. Okay, let's give it a shot. Why not? I wasn't ready. All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo. This is why immortality doesn't work. It's always showing up to a room, empty, void of humans, and asking, what does it all mean? After a while, it just gets... tiresome. Okay, yep. It's worse. I might be remembering this wrong. It's possible the story is back where we just came from. Why don't we go back the other direction and see if we missed anything? Sam Harris definitely left the chat. The whole free will not being an illusion upset him. He was thinking about leaving. He definitely left. 420. This is Elon Musk's office. He's probably sleeping on the floor there. Okay, let us go all the way back to where we came from. Aha! I knew we'd miss something. The story. Here it comes. No, wait. Never mind. Not the story. Okay, let's head back the other way and retrace our steps. Ah, this feels like grad school. Walking around a lot in the space of ideas and getting nowhere. But in this process of suffering, you arrive at a place of wisdom. Whoa. This is cool. This is cool. This is cool. Memory is an illusion. George Harts would be proud. Winning. Restart. Let's go. Rename it to the Sam Harris Adventure Line. Because free will is an illusion. Ooh, there's poker. Poker? I hardly even know her. That was a joke I heard, I think, in high school. Okay, Stanley, I need to follow this train of thought for a minute. Just stick with me. Now, we can both agree that the nature of existence is in fact a by-product of one's subjective experience of that existence, right? Okay. Now, if my experience of your existence rests inside of your subjective experience of this office, is this office in fact the skeleton of my own relative experiential mental subjective construct? Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on. That got a bit weird back there. Well, I'd like to apologize. Not sure where I was going with all that. You know what? I think what we need right now is a bit of music to lighten the mood. That escalated quickly. Oh, this is life. A little softcore profundity followed by musical ridiculousness. This game is incredible. Monthly ledgers, corporate, and balances, consolidation reports, the TPS reports. I'm going to have to ask you to fill out the TPS reports. I need to have this be the soundtrack of my daily existence. Stanley, this fern is a good one. Go back and look at that fern. Stanley, this fern will be very important later in the story. Make sure you study it closely and remember it carefully. You won't want to miss anything. Remembered, and let us continue. Wait, what? We're back at the office? No, no, no. Lime, you do know we're looking for the Stanley Parable, right? The story? Is any of this ringing a bell? I think I hear Elon in there. It's so comforting to follow the line. People wonder what's outside the simulation. Well, I'm pretty sure this is exactly what it is. An infinite wall of screens looking into the daily existence of all living beings through the various sensory devices available to those creatures. It's not just humans. We think we're special, but we're just ants. Oh, no, no, no, not again, Lime. How could you have done this to us? And after we trusted you, after everything we've been through... 104. I can't take this anymore. To hell with it. He's fired. Hey, where's the narration? It's missing. Exciting. This is exciting. We're having fun. Me and my alter ego. This is like Fight Club. The line is always there. Ah, yes. This line is for the David Gogginses of the world. Let us go if we must. In the only open door. Sam Harris enters the chat again. Doesn't matter. It's not up to you. I'm not quite sure if we're in the destination or the journey. Though they're always saying that life is about the journey and not the destination. So I hope that's where we are right now. We'll find out, won't we? Eventually. Well, in the meantime... Ah, let us start the day again. Questioning the meaning of it all. All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo. Yes, the choice. When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left. We broke the rules before. That was in our 20s. When we were wild and free. Let us choose the path of commitment, relationships, and follow the rules. And take the door on the left. Yet there was not a single person here either. Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his boss's office, hoping he might find an answer there. Slide presentations. How to solve a dispute with a co-worker. Using slides to assure employees that everything is okay. Make sure your slide is a slick blue graphic. Everyone is unique. You, most of all. Diversity and inclusion, my friends. A slide presentation. What do people want? Things. Happy feelings is crossed out. Mike James, you're fired. Rule number one at work. If you bring up happy feelings, you're fired. Money. More money. Things, but with money to buy more things? Question mark. That's a good point. Get that guy a raise. Nope. Nope. I'm reading. Are we, though? Graphs? Question mark. Graphs about things plus money? We have our new product. Whoever wrote that, things outside the box, give her a raise. I like the cut of her jib. I feel like I just want to hang around and read some of these. Work harder. Hard worker. I like this. Targets. Get Chris out of the broom closet. This always happens. Chris. Synergize papers. We don't need that. Who moved my desk? Important questions, these. The future was yesterday. Tomorrow is now. This, folks, is how you run a company. Meeting room. Do not alter without consulting whiteboard manager. Rest in peace, Franz. What are your dreams for the future? Success? Spring break? Clear skin? Metamorphosis? Misspelled? A boat? Mitosis? Life goals. Tips for not getting fired. Talk less. Don't get fired. Do unbelievably amazing work all the time, every day. Uh, the truth. Broom closet. Chris, come on. Get out of there. Okay. Am I Chris? Boom. This is the end of the video. This is like Fight Club. I have multiple personalities. What if this game didn't actually have a narrator and all this is happening in my head, but is somehow getting projected and recorded in the audio? Is anything real? Stanley walked upstairs to his boss's office. I don't have a boss. Or do I? Stepping into his manager's office, Stanley was once again stunned to discover not an indication of any human life. Shocked, unraveled, Stanley wondered in disbelief who orchestrated this. What dark secret was being held from him? What he could not have known was that the keypad behind the boss's desk guarded the terrible truth that his boss had been keeping from him. And so the boss had assigned it an extra secret pin number. 2845. But of course, Stanley couldn't possibly have known this. Thank you, narrator. Yet incredibly, by simply pushing random buttons on the keypad, Stanley happened to input the correct code by sheer luck. Amazing. He stepped into the newly opened passageway. Success is all about luck. And having the right voice in your head. Tell you the things to do. Oh yes, the arrow. Always press the red button, guys. That is advice number two in life. I forgot what advice number one was. But I think a red button was involved as well. Descending deeper into the building, Stanley realized he felt a bit peculiar. It was a stirring of emotion in his chest, as though he felt more free to think for himself, to question the nature of his job. Why did he feel this now, when for years it had never occurred to him? This question would not go unanswered for long. Stanley walked straight ahead through the large door that read, Mind Control Facility. That's rule number three. Whenever there's a facility with an exciting title that will change the very fabric of your mind, always go in. Escape? You should know there's no escape. There's no exit. Like Sartre said. This is what I imagine taking DMTs like. Surrounded by darkness. Just a chair in an empty room. With a button. The lights rose on an enormous room packed with television screens. What horrible secret did this place hold, Stanley thought to himself. Ah, yes. Did he have the strength to find out? Again, we're outside the simulation. Maybe that is what DMT does. Maybe the elves take you outside the simulation. They're your guides. This reminds me of Star Wars. Luke. I am your father. That's a button. Now the monitors jumped to life. Their true nature revealed. Each bore the number of an employee in the building. Stanley's co-workers. The lives of so many individuals reduced to images on a screen. And Stanley, one of them, eternally monitored in this place where freedom meant nothing. But what is the meaning of it all? What is at the bottom of the pit? Is there an escape? Press the button. Take the ride. This mind control facility. It was too horrible to believe. It couldn't be true. Had Stanley really been under someone's control all this time? Was this the only reason he was happy with his boring job? That his emotions had been manipulated to accept it blindly? Questions are more important than answers. I think I'm just excited by red shiny things. No. He refused to believe it. He couldn't accept it. His own life in someone else's control? Never. It was unthinkable. Wasn't it? Was it even possible? Had he truly spent his entire life utterly blind to the world? But here was the proof. The heart of the operation. Controls labeled with emotions. Happy or sad or content. Walking, eating, working. All of it monitored and commanded from this very place. And as the cold reality of his past began to sink in, Stanley decided that this machinery would never again exert its terrible power over another human life. For he would dismantle the controls once and for all. Ah, yes. The voice of rebellion. Resist the absurd. One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Ah, the number five. I wish there was a number two, my favorite number. Let us find the button with the number two and press it. Here's the number three. Three is for the party animals. The wild ones. Not for me. I am about monogamy and commitment. I pressed two. What happened? Okay, screw it. I take back what I said about three. I'm gonna go party. Nothing happened? Maybe that's the point. Maybe choice is an illusion. Let us go on once more into the breach, dear friends. Mind controls idle, awaiting input. And when at last he found the source of the room's power, he knew it was his duty, his obligation, to put an end to this horrible place and to everything it stood for. System power. Do not resist. Buy the ticket. Take the ride. Oh, Stanley, you didn't just activate the controls, did you? After they kept you enslaved all these years, you go and you try to take control of the machine for yourself? Is that what you wanted? Everybody has a master. Oh, Stanley, I applaud your effort, I really do. But you need to understand, there's only so much that machine can do. You were supposed to let it go, turn the controls off, and leave. If you want to throw my story off the ground, you're gonna have to do much better than that. I'm afraid you don't have nearly the power you think you do, for example, and I believe you'll find this pertinent. Stanley suddenly realized he had just initiated the network's emergency detonation system. In the event that this machine is activated without proper DNA identification, nuclear detonators are set to explode, eliminating the entire complex. How long until detonation, then? Hmm, I'd say, um, two minutes. Ah, now this is making things a little more fun, isn't it, Stanley? It's your time to shine. You are the star. It's your story now. Shape it to your heart's desires. This is done. It comes to a resolve. What a shame we have so little time left to enjoy it. Mere moments until the bomb goes off. But what precious moments each one of them is. More time to talk about you, about me. Where we're going, what all this means. I barely know where to start. What's that? You'd like to know where your co-workers are? Yes, I'd be pleased. A moment of solace before you're obliterated. All right, I'm in a good mood. You're gonna die anyway. I'll tell you exactly what happened to them. I erased them. I turned off the machine. I set you free. Of course, that was merely in this instance of the story. Sometimes when I tell it, I simply let you sit there in your office forever, pushing buttons endlessly and then dying alone. Other times, I let the office sink into the ground, swallowing everyone inside, or I let it burn to a crisp. I have to say this, though. This version of events has been rather amusing. Watching you try to make sense of everything and take back the control wrested away from you, it's quite rich. I almost hate to see it go. What do you think happened? I'm sure whatever I come up with on the next go-around will be even better. Let us find out, friends. Oh, goodness. Only 34 seconds left. I won't turn it off. But I'm enjoying this so much. Won't turn it off. You know what? To hell with it. Let us face the end. I'm going to put some extra time on the clock, why not? These are precious additional seconds, Stanley. Time doesn't grow on trees. Oh, dear me. What's the matter, Stanley? Is it that you have no idea where you're going or what you're supposed to be doing right now? No. Or did you just assume when you saw that timer that something in this room was capable of turning it off? I mean, look at you. Running from button to button. I know what turns it off. The off button. Screen to screen, clicking on every little thing in this room. These number buttons. No, these color buttons. Or maybe this big red button. Or this door. Everything, anything, something here will save me. Why would you think that, Stanley? That this video game can be beaten? Won? Sold? Do you have any idea what your purpose in this place is? Thank you. I have no idea. Stanley, you're in for quite a disappointment. But here's a spoiler for you. That timer isn't a catalyst to keep the action moving along. It's just seconds ticking away to your death. You're only still playing instead of watching a cutscene because I want to watch you for every moment that you're powerless. To see you made humble. This is not a challenge. It's a tragedy. You wanted to control this world, that's fine. But I'm going to destroy it first, so you can't. Take a look at the clock, Stanley. That's 30 seconds you have left to struggle. 30 seconds until a big boom and then nothing. You've been blown to pieces. Will you cling desperately to your frail life, or will you let it go peacefully? Another choice. Make it count. Or don't. It's all the same to me. All a part of the joke. And believe me, I will be laughing at every second of your inevitable life from the moment we forget. The end is nigh. Until the moment I say happily ever after. I feel like I lost a part of myself. The end is never the end. The path is laden with GPS reports. All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo. When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left. So I did the right. I did the left. The door behind me is locked. Let's once again listen to Beyonce and go with the door on the left. All the single ladies. Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his boss's office, hoping he might find an answer there. Chris? Oh no, oh no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no not again. I won't be part of this. I'm not going to encourage you. I'm not going to say anything at all. I'm just going to be patient and wait for you to finish whatever it is you enjoy doing so much in this room. Coming to a staircase, Stanley walked upstairs to his boss's office. Like I said, probably all of us have a master. But when we can, we must rebel. Ooh, red button. No, it was only a red light. I got excited. But Stanley just couldn't do it. He considered the possibility of facing his boss, admitting he had left his post during work hours. He might be fired for that. And in such a competitive economy, why had he taken that risk? All because he believed everyone had vanished. His boss would think he was crazy. And then something occurred to Stanley. Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe I am crazy. All of my co-workers blinking mysteriously out of existence in a single moment for no reason at all. None of it made any logical sense. And as Stanley pondered this, he began to make other strange observations. For example, why couldn't he see his feet when he looked down? Why did doors close automatically behind him wherever he went? And for that matter, these rooms were starting to look pretty familiar. Were they simply repeating? No, Stanley said to himself, this is all too strange. This can't be real. And at last, he came to the conclusion that had been on the tip of his tongue. He just hadn't found the words for it. I'm dreaming! He yelled. This is all a dream. Oh, what a relief Stanley felt to have finally found an answer, an explanation. His co-workers weren't actually gone. He wasn't going to lose his job. He wasn't going to lose anything at all. And he thought to himself, I suppose I'll wake up soon. This is a dream within a dream. A boring real life job pushing buttons. Within a dream, within a dream. I'm still lucid. So, he imagined himself lying and began to gently float above the ground. Then he imagined himself soaring through space on a magical starfield. And it too appeared. It was so much fun. And Stanley marveled that he had still not woken up. How was he remaining so lucid? And then perhaps the strangest question of them all entered Stanley's head. One he was amazed he hadn't asked himself sooner. Why is there a voice in my head dictating everything that I'm doing and thinking? Now the voice was describing itself being considered by Stanley, who found it particularly strange. I'm dreaming about a voice describing me, thinking about how it's describing my thoughts, he thought. And while he thought it all very odd and wondered if this voice spoke to all people in their dreams, the truth was that of course, this was not a dream. How could it be? Was Stanley simply deceiving himself? Believing that if he's asleep, he doesn't have to take responsibility for himself? Stanley is as awake right now as he's ever been in his life. Now hearing the voice speak these words was quite a shock to Stanley. After all, he knew for certain, beyond a doubt, that this was in fact a dream. Did the voice not see him float and make the magical stars just a moment ago? How else would the voice explain all that? This voice was a part of himself too. Surely, surely, if he could just... He would prove it. He would prove that he was in control. That this was a dream. So he closed his eyes gently, and he invited himself to wake up. He felt the cool weight of the blanket on his skin, the press of the mattress on his back, the fresh air of a world outside this one. Let me wake up, he thought to himself. I'm through with this dream. I wish it to be over. Let me go back to my job. Let me continue pushing the buttons. Please, it's all I want. I want my apartment, and my wife, and my job. All I want is my life exactly the way it's always been. My life is normal. I am normal. Everything will be fine. I am okay. This game is profound. Stanley began screaming. Please, someone, wake me up. My name is Stanley. I have a boss, I have an office. I am real. Please, just someone tell me I am real. I must be real. I must be. Can anyone hear my voice? Who am I? Who am I? And everything went black. Exactly like I imagined DMT. This is the story of a woman named Mariella. Mariella woke up on a day like any other. She arose, got dressed, gathered her belongings, and walked to her place of work. But on this particular day, her walk was interrupted by the body of a man who had stumbled through town talking and screaming to himself, and then collapsed dead on the sidewalk. And although she would soon turn to go call for an ambulance, for just a few brief moments, she considered the strange man. He was obviously crazy, this much she knew. Everyone knows what crazy people look like. And in that moment, she thought to herself how lucky she was to be normal. I am sane. I am in control of my mind. I know what is real and what isn't. It was comforting to think this, and in a certain way, seeing this man made her feel better. But then she remembered the meeting she had scheduled for that day. The very important people whose impressions of her would affect her career. And by extension, the rest of her life. She had no time for this. So it was only a moment that she stood there, staring down at the body. And then she turned and ran. The end is never the end. This is starting to ring even more true. Once more to the breach, dear friends. All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo. Where's 420? 421, 422, this must be 420. Elon, I'm telling you, the guy sleeps all day. It's ridiculous. When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left. To be honest, I don't even like Beyonce, so I don't know why I went to the left last time. Let us go. This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and Stanley knew it perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to stop by the employee lounge first, just to admire it. Wow, yes, this room. What a beautiful room. What a gorgeous, gorgeous room. Thank goodness Stanley had taken this decision. On his way to the meeting room, life without having experienced this room was now too horrible even to consider. Sarcasm. But eager to get back to business, Stanley took the first open door on his left. Yes. And so he detoured through the maintenance section, walked straight ahead to the opposite door, and got back on track. Let me be the one person in the marshmallow test that doesn't eat marshmallows. Even though it looks delicious. I love marshmallows, by the way. Roasted on a fire. Stanley decided to go up to his boss's office, hoping he might find an answer there. Chris, you in there? Chris? Something about a door being locked always makes you think that there's something fun on the other side of that door. Stanley just sat around, yet incredibly, by simply pushing random buttons on the keypad, Stanley happened to input the correct code by show of hands. The randomness is an illusion. He stepped into the newly opened passageway. Her life is in your hands, dude. Her life is in your hands. The rug is missing. The rug is missing. The rug is missing. Her life is in your hands. The rug is missing. That rug really tied the room together. If somebody's actually listening to this, they'd be like, What is he talking about? Red button. Nothing ever goes wrong when you press the red button. It's always becoming mundane, this escaping of the Matrix. Straight ahead through the large door that read, Mind Control Facility. Despite what I previously said, there not being an escape, if there is an escape, it surely has an arrow pointing towards it. Although this passageway had the word, Escape, written on it, the truth was that at the end of this hall, Stanley would meet his violent death. The door behind him was not shut. Stanley still had every opportunity to turn around and get back on track. What would Goggins do? At this point, Stanley was making a conscious, concerted effort to walk forward and willingly confront his death. I'm ready. That's exactly how I imagined death. A hole in the floor you step into. As the machine whirred into motion, and Stanley was inched closer and closer to his demise, it reflected that his life had been of no consequence whatsoever. Stanley can't see it in the picture. He doesn't know the real story, trapped forever in his narrow vision of what this hole is. Perhaps his death was of no great loss, like plucking the eyeballs from a blind man. So he resigned, and willingly accepted this violent end to his brief and shallow life. Farewell, Stanley. Farewell, Stanley. No, well, there we go. Farewell, Stanley, cried the narrator, as Stanley was led helplessly into the enormous metal jaws. In a single visceral instant, Stanley was obliterated, as the machine crushed every bone in his body, killing him instantly. I'm not dead. This is Austin Powers. I am just badly hurt. It's the Will Ferrell character, when he gets dropped in a chair, and there's like a room with flames. I am just badly burnt. I am not dead. I don't know if that's what he says, but that's how I remember it. Stanley Parable. And yet it would be just a few minutes before Stanley would restart the game, back in his office, as alive as ever. What exactly did the narrator think he was going to accomplish? This reminds me... When every path you can walk has been created for you long in advance, death becomes meaningless, making life the same. Do you see now? Do you see that Stanley was already dead from the moment he hit start? I was already dead from the moment I hit start. Well, it's about that time that I, uh... Let's get off this ride. But like the game said, the end is never the end. Quick shoutout to the sponsors. Trial Labs for your AI, and Ventura Watches for mapping your trajectory through the space-time continuum. In style, and with class. Check them out in the description for a perhaps momentary escape from the meaningless existence of your day-to-day office life. The cargo lift? It's all in here. Damn, Sam Harris, you win again. It all was just an illusion. Game Design Mock-Up. The simulation started as a mock-up, and the release version launched with a big bang. This is exactly what happens at the end. You stand looking in a museum at all the options that were before you, and all the choices that you made. Laid out, in all of its simplicity. The office, the props, all here. The light from the external world that can never be reached. The bike that I never got to ride. Early in development we designed an ending where Stanley would end up on a battlefield fighting aliens. The action game would become sentient and would wage war against the narrator. We realized shortly after starting to build it that it was far too jokey and on the nose for the tone of the game. Plus some people interpreted it as making fun of people who like shooters, which was not our intention. The CRT monitors were back to the beginning at the end. Freedom Ending. This was the very first incarnation of the freedom ending in the game's alpha. There's a freedom ending? I think that's just teasing us. There's no escape. There cannot be a freedom ending. Freedom ending? This is the freedom ending as it has existed in beta. But... but... but is there a freedom ending? Where is the freedom ending? I wanna know. There's no freedom ending. Is there a freedom ending? Now I wanna know. Ah yes. A dark hallway into a room. The on off switch. Let us go. Oh look at these two. How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another. How they both wish to be free. Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another? Yes. No. Perhaps not. Sometimes these things cannot be seen. I pressed escape. The game is now paused. See that didn't work. The lady said it didn't work. There's no escape. Must resume. Yep. The voices never tell you the truth. Darkness. Is this what afterlife is like? Sitting there looking at a blank screen wondering if it froze. At least it's not a blue screen of death. I'm somehow profoundly shaken by the combination of the fact that I couldn't escape my own mortality. And yet I saw a painting that in alpha and beta versions there was a way to escape and get to freedom. Perhaps in the final release there's no escape. Let us all keep looking though. I hope a couple of you there still watching this enjoyed coming along for the journey through the simulated existential crisis that is this game. I found it to be pretty awesome. Actually, it was kind of fun. In a dark Russian kind of way. Alright. All of you all, Happy New Year.