Bringing It All Together: Synthesizing Interactive Elements
Red Dead Redemption 2
Now that we’ve identified the distinctions of interactivity that video games are capable of with their storytelling, it’s time to explore how these elements are actually considered by creators during a game’s development cycle. To best do this, we’ll be taking a look at Rockstar’s Red Dead Redemption 2, one of the biggest and most significant releases in recent years.
Red Dead Redemption 2 sets players in the final days of the Van Der Linde gang
We’ll be doing this for two reasons. For starters, there exists substantial sources that reveal what the game’s lead writers and developers were considering whilst working on the game, both from a pre-production concept level as well as mechanical implementation. With such sources, we are able to track how the developers were considering the interactive elements that we’ve identified whilst crafting their game, and in the finished product we may see how these concepts are made tangible.
Secondly, compared to the games we’ve analyzed so far, Red Dead Redemption 2’s design is something of a synthesis of all these elements rather than any one of them being objectively more significant to the game’s overall experience, as I would argue is the case for the examples I’ve given. For instance, I chose to talk about perspective with Hellblade because that game’s entire structure is built around how it handles perspective, whereas in a game like Red Dead, while still important in all kinds of ways, perspective is just one of many elements that sustain the experience of the game.
In other words, if one were to play Hellblade and pay no attention to its use of perspective, they’re not going to appreciate or fully understand what it is that Ninja Theory is doing, whereas Red Dead’s design is not built solely upon that pillar alone, and tells its story through a more varied set of means, which we may more readily identify thanks to having explored these means in our previous analyses.
"Compared to the games we've analyzed so far, Red Dead Redemption 2's design is something of a synthesis of all these elements rather than any one of them being dominant"
At a glance, no single element of interactivity is dominant in Red Dead Redemption 2, but rather they all play smaller roles in forming the complete experience. Knowing this, and applying what we know of the game’s development from various developer interviews, a closer inspection of the game’s systems and the role each of the elements we’ve covered plays in sustaining them should give us a thorough picture of how a game’s interactivity is modeled so as to create unique, engaging narratives.
Perspective
Following-up an analysis on perspective on a game as unique in that regard as Hellblade is frankly quite demanding. I’m not going to pretend like Red Dead’s portrayal of its protagonist, Arthur Morgan, comes anywhere close to achieving the same level of total immersion into the character’s psyche as Hellblade does, but that’s not the point of Red Dead, anyway.
In Red Dead, our protagonist is designed as a product of the world rather than the inverse, and so the game’s framing of Arthur’s perspective is handled accordingly. Here, perspective is enforced not by literal hallucinations manifest from the protagonist’s head, but instead by the naturalistic closeness with which we traverse the world through Arthur’s own experience. Our objectives and interests are framed by the specific needs and interests of our character.
Arthur Morgan, the protagonist of Red Dead Redemption 2
This closeness is achieved through the game’s deliberate framing of the experience. As the game’s producer Rob Nelson puts it in a piece for Variety, “We wanted to stick with Arthur through this story and see how he changes from the start. What made him the person he is today and the things he goes through and how those effects [sic] him” (Crecente).
We see the results of this goal in how closely tied the player’s perception of the world is to Arthur himself. We’re with Arthur for the entirety of the main game, which serves to shape our own perception of the world in such a way that matches Arthur’s. The game’s senior creative writer, Michael Unsworth, claims that this use of perspective is perhaps the defining element of the game’s story: “The story is Arthur’s whole experience of the world around him in the hands of the player” (Crecente).
The game makes it clear what matters to Arthur from very early on. As a near lifelong member of the Van Der Linde gang, the gang is family to Arthur, and we see in the earliest hours of the game just how far Arthur is willing to go in order to protect that family. As such, the game wouldn’t properly function if the player didn’t feel that same connection to the gang as Arthur does, as without it the entire logic behind which the game is framed carries no weight.
"We wanted to stick with Arthur through this story and see how he changes from the start. What made him the person he is today and the things he goes through and how those affect him"
–Rob Nelson, Producer
This is perhaps best seen in the design of the game’s camp, a home base that shifts locations as the story moves along, taking the ensemble that makes up the gang with it. The camp is a mechanically distinct piece of the world, one Arthur cannot just run through, but must walk through at a measured pace, allowing the player to breathe in the variety of activity and interactions between the other gang members going on around them, often completely independent of the player.
Unsworth called the camp “one of the most ambitious things [Rockstar has] ever done from a narrative perspective… You aren’t just doing story missions with these characters, you’re living with them, and the storytelling is fully free-form and not limited to cutscenes” (Crecente).
In camp, there are a number of activities Arthur can take part in, from chopping wood for fires, depositing funds to the camp collection, engaging in one-on-one conversations with individual gang members, listening in on conversations those same characters are having independent of Arthur – the list goes on.
Marching through camp from task to task brings with it a sense of authority, but an authority of a nuanced nature. Arthur is not the leader of this gang, but is more or less the gang’s primary breadwinner, the go-to guy for getting things done. It’s a role he takes seriously, and despite his often gruff demeanor, Arthur cares deeply for the people he’s supporting.
This shows in the various interactions Arthur can have in any one strut through the camp. Between chores you may be approached by another gang member who comes to report important news to you, or even to confide in you about their own troubles. Sometimes gang members will casually mention having lost something valuable to Arthur, to which the game responds by instantly adding the recovery of that item to Arthur’s list of side activities, Arthur’s almost paternal position in the gang encoded into the game’s systems.
[Video of Camp Gameplay]
The camp is a mechanically distinct section of the game, where the player's role as breadwinner and protective figure is constantly being reinforced, helping to shape the player's perspective of the world
This all lends to our image of Arthur as the guardian figure for this group of misfits, and informs the nuanced sense of authority being in the camp provides. We grow to care for these people largely through the act of looking out for them, which the game provides ample opportunities for. As such, we associate the very act of playing the game with fulfilling the role Arthur plays in the gang. Our objectives becoming Arthur’s objectives, our interests reflect Arthur’s interests.
The effortlessness with which that is achieved is evidence of how well this game establishes perspective, and how it uses that perspective to tell a story that explores relationships with a level of nuance and complexity rarely seen in any medium, let alone in video games.
Performance
Even as so much of the experience of Red Dead is defined by Arthur’s strict perspective, the game still allows for some surprisingly versatile ways for the player to put their own performative spin on Arthur’s character. This is perhaps most readily apparent in the expansive cosmetic options available to Arthur, a character whose design may seem somewhat bland to begin with, but in actuality allows for a diverse array of looks and styles, all of which feel unique and serve to connect the player with their own version of Arthur while still fitting with his character.
The player has a miriad of options when it comes to customizing Arthur's appearance, from choices of apparel to the length and style of his hair – his weight and build are even variable, determined by how well the player eats and exercises
Cosmetic variability is common in games of Red Dead’s caliber, but the game often goes the extra mile to accommodate for the player’s performative variabilities, if in less immediately apparent ways. Rob Nelson spoke on this approach to story in a feature with Variety: “We wanted to tell [Arthur’s] story… But the idea of agency in a narrative, how much of Arthur is Arthur? How much you influence his path as a player. That was an idea we wanted to play with as well” (Crecente).
Now, player agency over the player character’s personality is not original in and of itself, but Red Dead sets some unique parameters for this. The game is still fairly linear, the story following a set path with a few minor exceptions, but Rockstar sneaks in subtle changes in Arthur’s behavior depending on the player’s actions. Whether it be a tweak to his delivery of a certain line, the method by which he appeals to a troubled friend, or just the way he carries himself in a particular scene, Arthur’s actions are constantly being reinforced by his character as it is defined by the individual player’s choices.
Michael Unsworth elaborated on the developer’s goals in designing the game as such:
Obviously, we want to avoid someone acting like a maniacal lunatic for an hour then walking into a cutscene and saying ‘I just want to do something special for those poor kids’ but far more subtle examples than that can also start to compound over time so we reviewed everything again and started to write different dialogue options, and in some cases entirely different scenes based on how Arthur has been behaving in the hands of the player. (Crecente)
An example of how a scene may change in slight ways depending on the player's honor
The way the game keeps track of the player’s compounded average of choices is by quantifying those choices on a moral level with a fairly rudimentary honor spectrum. Immoral choices – killing, robbing, and hurting people, for instance – lead to a lower honor rating, while moral choices – helping people in need, giving away money, treating your horse with respect and care – lead to a higher rating. One’s placement on this spectrum will be constantly shifting as they play the game, and where Arthur is on this spectrum may influence the nuance of his action at any given time.
This allows for the game to maintain a representation of Arthur that is always consistent with the player’s actions whilst still weaving the same narrative arc for every possible version of the character. The major actions all stay the same, but the minutiae of those scenes, and perhaps more importantly the context through which the character’s experience is being viewed, are fluid to the player’s performance of the character.
"We want to avoid someone acting like a maniacal lunatic for an hour then walking into a cutscene and saying ‘I just want to do something special for those poor kids’ but far more subtle examples than that can also start to compound over time"
–Michael Unsworth, Senior Creative Writer
On top of this, Rockstar was deliberate in what content they made required and what they made optional. According to Nelson, “[They] kept stripping [the game’s content] back and back and back to make things optional… Anything that made it feel like it was slightly out of character for Arthur, [they] would pull it back and make it optional” (Crecente). This grants the player a level of agency in deciding what parts of the story and world are emphasized, subsequently affecting how their Arthur takes shape. Missions involving helping to gang in any way are always required, since Arthur’s commitment to the gang is an essential asset of his character.
A mission involving an old flame of Arthur’s who resurfaces and asks him for help, however, is entirely optional, though still treated with the same fidelity as the required missions, making them equally as important to the character’s development should the player decide that they want to go down that road.
These are some ways that the game’s primary narrative adapts based on individual player performance, but the game’s systems allow for some impressively diverse micro-narratives that do a lot to shape the character in the player’s eyes. The game includes a simple but effective dialogue system that allows the player to speak with any NPC they encounter in the world.
Rather than isolate these instances and expand upon the possible dialogue options as you might see in a traditional RPG, the game only allows for a few options depending on the circumstances, labeled concisely so as to fit into the game’s already tight interface (Greet, Antagonize, Defuse, etc.). This means that the player has general control over how Arthur interacts with the game’s NPCs, but no precise control over exactly what Arthur will say.
[Video of Dialogue System]
A few examples of how the player may utilize the simple dialogue system to dynamic ends
For instance, I may choose to “Greet” someone, which Arthur responds to by calling out “Hey mister!” The NPC will react, perhaps returning the greeting or telling Arthur to mind his own business, to which I then have the option of reacting how I choose, either turning the tone of the conversation on its head for the sake of causing trouble or defusing the situation to avoid it, either of which is entirely accountable in Arthur’s character.
The system even picks up on trends in how the player utilizes it. Walk down the street greeting everyone you see and Arthur will comment that he’s just in a particularly good mood for some reason. Start antagonizing multiple people in a bar and Arthur will start directing his insults to the room instead of the individual.
This simple system allows for some surprisingly dynamic interactions between the player and the world without the typical need to resort to extreme actions that might conflict with the player’s idea of the character in order to provoke a response. Nelson describes it in a GQ feature as “[having] the same satisfaction of impacting the world as you aiming a gun or shooting somebody… Your words are like bullets as well,” in the sense that bullets are the typical means of interacting with open worlds such as this (White).
Rockstar understands the inherent satisfaction of poking at the world to see how it pokes you back – it’s the prompt that the player then must improvise against in all games, really – and with this system they’ve made a way of improvising in that world that places control over the tone of the character firmly in the player’s hands while remaining true to the core of that character. Red Dead doesn’t just allow for improvisation on the player’s part, but actively encourages it at every turn thanks to the deliberate design of its systems.
Discovery
Beyond the streamlined main story, Red Dead offers an expansive world ripe with opportunity for the player to make a story for themself. In fact, some of the most profound moments I’ve personally experienced with the game don’t come from the scripted sequences that make up the missions and side activities, but from breaking off the beaten path to explore the world Rockstar crafted, free of concretely established contexts.
These moments were defined by this sense of traversing into the unknown, a feeling made possible by the deliberate sense of discovery Rockstar embeds in its open-world design. Rob Nelson says as much himself in a feature for Variety: “As much as possible, we tried to make a world that players can be surprised by, can believe in, can get lost in… Every decision we made was working toward those goals” (Crecente).
The world of Red Dead Redemption 2 is vast and ripe with opportunities for players to find their own stories
That point of creating a world that the player can be “surprised by” is essential to this section in particular, as the world of Red Dead is far from predictable. The player is constantly running into unexpected circumstances whilst traversing the game’s expansive map, be it getting ambushed by a rival gang, stumbling upon the tracks of a legendary animal, encountering a stranger who’s been bit by a snake and needs medicine – there’s seemingly no end to the possibilities of what the player might have to contend with when exploring this world.
These scenarios may be scripted in the sense that the code of the game is algorithmically designed so that they occur from time to time, but they take place without the protective context of the structured missions. The missions of Red Dead don’t just throw the player into the middle of a fight, but places the player deliberately so that the level can be bested with minimal effort. Wandering into an ambush in the wild, however, is much less forgiving, forcing the player to adapt on the fly in order to survive.
I’d wager that I died from unexpected encounters in the wild of Red Dead’s world far more than I did in any of the scripted missions, and that’s a good thing, because without that sense of danger, I wouldn’t be traversing this world with any real sense of alertness. Because I do, though, even the most mundane moments of the game keep me on my guard, which makes those moments anything but mundane and keeps my attention on the story, even if it’s my own story that I’m forging through exploration rather than the game’s central plot.
“As much as possible, we tried to make a world that players can be surprised by, can believe in, can get lost in… Every decision we made was working toward those goals”
–Rob Nelson, Producer
Such encounters contribute to the player’s sense of adventure as they take in the sights of the wild west, but Rockstar has something of a reputation for populating their worlds with more obtuse elements as well. This was the case in the first Red Dead Redemption, which was host to a number of eerie landmarks that had players investigating every inch of the map for years in the hopes of finding hidden answers to the mysteries these places provoke.
Variety talked with former senior art director at Rockstar Daren Bader on how such mysteries were purposefully implemented into the first Red Dead: “We kept our mysteries smaller and more quirky, with a victorian-vibe, like ghosts, spirits, and seances. Stuff of the late 1800s… Rockstar likes to put things out there that leave room for interpretation” (Garst).
This same philosophy is clearly present in the world of Red Dead Redemption 2 as well, the map loaded with little set-pieces of unexplained origins. This could be anything from the player stumbling upon an abandoned cabin with cryptic words carved on the inside of a drawer they loot, to being caught in a trap by an occult group of killers who behave more like zombies than people, to approaching a boarded up outhouse only to be thrashed at by a corpse-like insane woman locked inside.
Seriously, the amount of weird and unsettling things hidden in the corners of this game is kind of baffling, but it really enhances the excitement of exploration. Players will get used to the random encounters with rival gangs and people in need on the road after a time, but there are some things in Red Dead that nothing can quite prepare you for, and that’s what makes it so enthralling to experience.
Anomalies like this gargantuan dead snake are abundant in the world of Red Dead Redemption 2, stimulating the player's sense that there is more to this world than they could ever know
Rockstar knows the appeal of ambiguity in world design, and was deliberate in populating the fringes of Red Dead’s world with little mysteries to this end. The key to how effective these mysteries are in provoking this sense of discovery in the player is that nothing in the game deliberately points the player toward them, in the majority of cases. They’re insignificant in the grander scope of the game, but these little instances of wandering into a scene that clearly has a larger story behind it, but not being able to confirm exactly what that is, adds to the sense that this world is bigger than any individual player.
There are stories taking place that the player is not at the center of, mysteries that the player may never find the answer to. This makes the world feel not just actively alive, but like it has a history inaccessible to the player, which only makes it feel more rich, like there will always be new things to find and be amazed by.
The care with which all these elements are designed encourages us to imagine the story of this world for ourselves, to fill in the deliberately left gaps, and by doing so, invest ourselves in the world of the game. We come to feel a kind of ownership for these little moments, because it is in how we react to these small discoveries that define our personal experience with the game. We remember finding that boarded up outhouse with the crazy woman in it not because of its connection to the larger narrative of Arthur and the gang, but because of the unexpected color that discovery adds to the portrait of our story.
Playing Story
The main story of Red Dead Redemption 2 isn’t your standard action-adventure fare, and that’s largely thanks to the fact that it’s a prequel. The first game tells the story of John Marston, a former outlaw who is forced by government agents to hunt down the surviving members of his old gang. We learn that the gang fell apart after its leader, Dutch, lost his mind along with his ideals, its members all winding up killed or scattered to the winds.
With this knowledge, playing through Red Dead 2 – which plays out the final days of Dutch’s gang – brings with it a palpable sense of doom. We know before we even start that things are not going to end well, and given that our character, Arthur, isn’t even mentioned in the first game, we have to assume that his story must end in tragedy. It’s a strangely downward ride, as opposed to the expected upward trajectory of the genre.
A trailer for Red Dead Redemption 2 that introduces the game's story and themes
The tension of this context isn't just supplementary to the players who played the first game, but is built into the very fabric of the game’s story, and informs Arthur’s arc. One of the game’s head writers, Dan Houser, told GQ about Rockstar’s deconstructive approach to crafting Arthur’s story:
A lot of video games work on the same premise that you start as a weak person and end as a strong superhero… But what if you start as a tough guy? Someone who’s already very strong, someone that is emotionally confident of his place in the world. Arthur’s journey is not about becoming a superhero, because he’s almost one at the start, but is going to be taken on a more intellectual roller coaster when his world view gets taken apart. (White)
This approach fits with the inherent dread of the game’s story, as the progression towards the gang’s downfall is accompanied by Arthur’s progressed understanding of his place in the world. As we’ve said, Arthur is confident and content in his role as the gang’s primary breadwinner, but as the foundations of the gang begin to crumble so too does Arthur’s confidence, and he begins to question the system of values that he’s subscribed to all his life.
More than just communicating these ideas through cutscenes and dialogue, the game’s design makes it tangible through the shifting dynamics of the game’s systems, incentivizing the player to change their own style of play as Arthur’s own character experiences changes.
As we said above, the developers were careful to only make levels required that are tied to supporting the gang, and that takes form in different ways. Sometimes it means saving a captured comrade from the grasp of bounty hunters, or even keeping an eye on a friend whose drinking problem keeps putting him in peril. A lot of the time, though, it means doing things that are reprehensible at best: robbing a train full of innocent civilians, burning away an entire crop of tobacco to spite a rival faction, doing shady work for shady strangers who have something, anything to offer in return.
The game doesn’t morally valorize these actions – in fact, any equitable actions committed outside of main missions will lower you on the honor spectrum, so it is doing quite the opposite – but nevertheless, such actions are encouraged, because your goal as Arthur is to support the gang by any means necessary. Arthur may verbalize his qualms with needing to do these things, but ultimately he’s willing to make the moral sacrifice for the gang’s sake. If it takes robbing and killing to keep everyone fed, than that’s what has to be done. As such, the player is essentially told not to worry about the moral consequences of their actions, as doing “bad” things in this world is all to a supposedly “good” end.
"Money Lending and Other Sins," where the player must collect on predatory loans made to desperate people, sees Arthur at his most heinous, even if he sees it as justified for the sake of the gang
This ideology is perhaps most painfully problematic in the series of missions titled “Money Lending and Other Sins,” which involve Arthur moving to collect on predatory loans the gang has made to desperate, downtrodden people. Arthur expresses his distaste for this means of making money, but even so, he puts on his meanest face and does whatever it takes to collect the gang’s debts, including beating the loan’s victims to a pulp.
These sequences never make light of the situation; in fact, they go to great lengths to hammer home the desperation of the poor people who are being duped, and how invasive Arthur’s arrival to collect is to their well-being. I left each of these missions with a genuine feeling of unease, because they’re designed so as to highlight the player’s own complicity in performing such heinous acts. In fact, most of these missions are optional, so the fact that I sought them out only enhanced my feeling of complicity.
But I was just doing what the game was encouraging me to do, after all, so why should I feel guilty? The same could be said for Arthur, who despite knowing that this is a foul thing to be doing, knows that it is a necessary means to an end.
But then again, what really is right for the gang? That is determined largely by the gang’s leader, Dutch, who the player already knows is on track to becoming the murderous madman we know from the first game. Michael Unsworth shared some insight into Dutch’s arc with Variety:
Dutch has always viewed himself less as a criminal, and more as someone fighting back against a corrupt system of power that’s been set up to divide and suppress… At least that’s what he tells himself. In ‘RDR2,’ we start to see that idealism give way to disillusionment and, in turn, how that affects everyone who has believed in him for so many years. (Crecente)
With Dutch’s descent into madness comes a shock to Arthur’s system. Here is a man he has looked up to for most of his life, a perceived paragon of rebellious virtues, whose actions begin to work counter to that naïve understanding. Dutch’s breakdown becomes the crux of Arthur’s own moral reckoning, as he begins to realize that all he’s every believed in may have never been real to begin with, and as such all the terrible things he’s done to propagate Dutch’s ideas haven’t been for any greater good after all.
Dutch is the gang's leader and a father figure to Arthur, but as the game progresses his darker impulses begin to overshadow his righteous ideology
These doubts begin to set in with Arthur about midway through the game, but despite their growing legitimacy Arthur stands by Dutch and maintains the same blind faith in his father figure that he’s thrived on for most of his life. This dynamic changes, however, when something drastic happens to Arthur late in the game.
As I rode through the world, Arthur just collapsed in a fit of coughing, interrupting my free-roaming and demanding I see to this problem. Once I’d made it to the doctor, the diagnosis was made quickly: Arthur had contracted tuberculosis, a disease that, at the time, was a death sentence.
Despite some of the foreshadowing the game has that preludes this diagnosis, I was dumbstruck by the starkness with which it was introduced, the game interrupting my current objective to shove this mortality-affirming reality in my face. The scene is followed by a hazy few minutes of Arthur walking through empty streets, as if he’s just trying to keep on like this news was nothing whilst the reality of his fate seeps in.
Arthur’s TB manifests itself in more than just the game’s narrative, infecting the game’s systems and Arthur’s appearance to a destabilizing degree. Where the player could previously use consumables to alleviate health or stamina loss to their heart’s content, Arthur’s illness limits the effectiveness of these items, making the player feel weaker and more vulnerable than ever. Then there’s the depressing state of Arthur’s physical well-being, his face sunken, his complexion pale, his eyes red and irritated. It’s a constant visual reminder of Arthur’s condition that no amount of cosmetic tinkering can cover up.
Scene of Arthur's diagnosis, where the gameplay is interrupted, reflective of how Arthur's life has been disrupted by this turn
Personally, I can’t understate how devastating it is to see Arthur like this. It plays dramatically against the expectation of the player character growing stronger and more able as the game progresses. Even with the game’s prequel context suggesting Arthur was destined to meet an untimely end, I expected this to take shape in a heroic last stand, a shootout to end all shootouts, not unlike John Marston’s own death in the first game. Instead, Arthur is fated to wither and die, an unexpected and frankly unpleasant subversion of the player’s expectations, and a truly powerful one at that.
The cruel irony of it all is that Arthur contracted TB from one of debtors he practically beat to death in one of the money lender missions – the only one strictly required of the player – making his condition the result of one of his gravest sins. The cause and effect here demand that Arthur – and the player – reflect on why he did what he did in the first place, and in light of how Dutch and the grander ideology of the gang has faded in the months since the fatal visit to the ill debtor, the feeling of all this pain and suffering having been for nothing becomes inescapable.
"The objectives the game gives you become less and less about supporting Dutch’s plans and more about Arthur doing what he can to make amends for what he sees as a life wasted on wrongdoing"
Learning that his time is almost up does a lot to change Arthur’s whole perception of the situation, and he starts to see Dutch for what he truly is. Despite this, Arthur sticks with the gang, though it becomes clear that his reason for doing so isn’t because he’s still buying into Dutch’s lies, but because he still feels a responsibility toward the other members of the gang, most of them having been strung along by Dutch just as he had.
Arthur continues with the same activities, even playing along with Dutch’s desperate schemes, but to a new end that he has defined for himself.
The missions play out a bit differently from this point onward. For one, Arthur can opt to get involved with helping a group of native Americans being forced off their land by the Army, using his decidedly less noble skillset for what he sees as a just purpose for a change. The money lending missions now offer the player the chance to forgive the debtor’s debts rather than collect them. A series of side missions open up that see Arthur finding the family of the man who gave him tuberculosis in a destitute state and being able to help them. The objectives the game gives you become less and less about supporting Dutch’s plans and more about Arthur doing what he can to make amends for what he sees as a life wasted on wrongdoing.
In a series of side missions after his diagnosis, Arthur can help pull the Downes family out of the destitute state he helped put them in
Of course, these bits are optional, so a player looking for a more malicious take on Arthur can choose to avoid them, but either way Arthur winds up helping John Marston escape the gang with his family, allowing for something of a redemptive arc no matter what way the player performs the character. But the game doesn’t put in content and assume you won’t play it. The inclusion of these optional redemptive questlines are meant to give every player, no matter if they’ve played Arthur as a paragon or as a scumbag, some level of redemption.
The entire arc of the game encourages this idea of redemption through its design, encouraging you to do whatever bad things are necessary in order to support the gang before making the supporting of that gang seem futile, leaving the player, alongside Arthur, to feel a need for reconciliation. The game guides the player down a path of moral questionability followed by moral elevation, its grand design working to earn the redemption of its namesake.
Eventually, Arthur succumbs to his disease, at which point the player’s control jumps to none other than John Marston. This brings with it a newfound sense of security, since unlike Arthur, who the player has figured would die one way or another from the start of the game, the player knows that John dies in the first game, so he is, in a sense, totally safe in the contained environment of that game’s prequel.
Arthur’s weapons and outfits transfer to John, but his money and position on the honor spectrum do not. This robs the player of the likely comfortable financial position the main game situates them in by its end, meaning the player is back to needing to make ends meet, just like the beginning of the game.
The late-game sees the player's control transition to John Marston, a change which recontextualizes the game's moral incentives
With the honor spectrum reset to a neutral position, the player is essentially given a clean-slate to do with what they choose. While the newfound security of John’s presence and his need to support his family brings with it a return to the sense of "do what you have to do to get by" of the early game, Arthur’s redemptive arc still resonates, and his memory informs the events of John’s epilogue is tangible ways.
Ultimately, though, it is up to the player if the lessons learned from Arthur’s story will make any difference in John’s, the game giving the player the chance to decide what ends justify what means, and without the game reinforcing the same sense of consequence that it did during Arthur’s turn, the player must define the value of any given action for themself.