When I started Burial at Sea, Part 2, I wasn’t exactly excited. I felt anxious. Unlike those who claimed that Elizabeth Comstock was nothing more than a gameplay mechanic in the form of a girl, I connected with her. Like her, I had not one but two shitty father figures. Like her, I was a young woman who grew up with books. (She does bear a striking resemblance to my still-favorite Disney Princess, Belle, of Beauty and the Beast.) Like her, I was a sheltered girl who discovered her own power.
“It has been a year since the anxiety, since I first played Bioshock Infinite,” I wrote in my notes when I started the second part of Burial at Sea, referring to the worst bout of anxiety I’ve ever experienced. “I cannot be wholly objective about it, tied up in me as it is. It was one of the things that saved me, in a way. It has been a year and the prospect of actually being Elizabeth kind of terrifies me. In that way that loving anything deeply is always terrifying.”
I tell you this not to evoke any kind of sympathy, but to explain where I’m coming from: I know that there is no impartiality when it comes to me and Bioshock Infinite, and especially me and Elizabeth. I know that Elizabeth means more to me than she means to most people who played the game, probably. But even if I manage to set my own feelings aside, it is easy to admit that the ending of Burial at Sea – and thus the entire second part of the DLC – did the character a great disservice.
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