Entitled to a Happy Ending?: Mass Effect 3 and the Contestable Ethics of Modding the Narrative

Curator's Note

     While the practice of modding and fan-made “fixes” are nothing new to the medium of games and their fandoms, the various efforts to change the ending of Mass Effect 3 are notable in their ambition and popularity- and there’s little surprise as to why. Bioware had spent five years instilling into its player base not only that their choices mattered but that the right decisions would be rewarded with more appealing narrative outcomes. Accordingly, when the concluding entry in their sci-fi role-playing-game trilogy presented players with a seemingly bleak outcome that effectively responded very little to their cumulative decisions, many players- myself included- felt cheated. We had played the games as we were taught, or so we felt; we were entitled to earn our happy ending at the end of it all.  Even so, for this essay I position myself against the typical grain of viewing mods as a largely liberatory practice to instead suggest that even seemingly benign instances of modding to change the narrative content of a game opens up a potentially concerning path in which players cease to accept a game’s story and messaging on its own terms in favor of maximizing self-gratification.

     Historically, plenty of role-playing-games before 2007’s Mass Effect had advertised themselves based on the promise of reactive narratives that responded to a player’s decisions. What set apart the Mass Effect series, then, was its ambition regarding the scope of that reactivity: rather than presenting a single game in which the player made their mark upon the storyworld, Mass Effect billed itself as an epic trilogy in the vein of Star Wars or Lord of the Rings, and allowed players to carry over their save data from previous entries, so that they could continue the unique story of their player character, the charismatic Commander Shepard, resulting in a narrative that, while fundamentally set in stone, felt tailored to the individual’s journey, and which could offer significantly better or worse outcomes to long-term plotlines depending on the choices the player had made. Consequently, when Mass Effect 3 released in 2012 and players reached the credits, the fandom became outraged. In a study, Jacqueline Burgess and Christian M. Jones identified multiple common causes for complaint; many of which fell under the following two umbrellas: firstly, that while the possible outcomes were technically different depending on both the player’s War Asset score (a numerical value determined by the player’s cumulative decisions across the trilogy) and their final decision, were functionally identical save for minute visual differences. Secondly, that all possible outcomes was taken by fans as bleak and near-hopeless- a pyrrhic victory at best, with no way for Commander Shepard or his companions to enjoy their hard-fought victory- nor for the player to do so either (Burgess & Jones).

     The fandom’s general response to the trilogy’s ending, specifically their efforts to overturn it one way or another, has been well-documented, including by academia. Sarah Stang views these efforts in an empowering light, characterizing the fandom’s success in getting Bioware to amend the ending with free DLC (now included by default in the 2021 rerelease) as something that moves beyond the illusory conception of “agency” within the game towards something more substantial, “a reversal of power structures” where instead of “the developer dictat[ing] the player’s actions through the very structures of the game… the players [dictate] how the game’s narrative should respond to their actions” (Stang). Meanwhile, the fandom’s more generative reactions- in this case, the mods they created to “fix” a broken ending, such as the “Audemus Happy Ending Mod” (AHEM for short)- could be received as exemplary instances of fans’ resourcefulness and creative innovation using existing materials, reflecting Anne-Marie Schleiner’s belief in the potential for players to use avenues such as modding to reclaim power from the apparatus, transforming the game and its contents into new, unsanctioned forms that reveal the dynamic potential of games as “play material” (11).

     And yet, I find myself concerned for the long-term consequences of this fandom response, and the mentality which made these ending mods possible. For the ending mods are broadly understood as foundational to the entire Mass Effect modding community; Ryan Ainsworth, the creator of AHEM, asserts that the earliest efforts to change the ending formed the core of the technical knowledge and groundwork that the community has built upon ever since (Maher). But more than the ending mods being foundational as infrastructure, I also assert that they have become foundational to the psychology of the community as well. While early mods such as the ending mods were broad, ambitious projects seeking to change major (and broadly unpopular) narrative beats, in the years since, NexusMods (the primary database for the series’ various mods) has become populated with increasingly granular mods- smaller alterations that, rather than rebalance combat or progression, alter specific instances of dialogue or written text. This includes mods such as “Legion Lives” and “No N7 Armor in Liaras Apartment (sic)”, which respectively undo a character’s mandatory death and remove Liara’s possession of the armor which Shepard died in (long story)- the latter of which is directly called ‘creepy’ by that mod’s creator.

     These mods exist precisely because their creators viewed these moments as either out-of-step with their personal interpretation of the story- similar to how many players viewed the ending as violating Shepard’s perceived character (Burgess & Jones)- or were otherwise unpleasant in some form, necessitating their culling. My concern with such mods is that rather than recognize these games as works of art that might potentially challenge the player, fans seem to view Mass Effect as their own personal garden, custom-tailored to their every want and preference for maximum agreeability and minimal discomfort. I myself am guilty of this as well, having my own list of mods intended to optimize the trilogy into my own definition of its ideal self- ending mods included. But I suspect that this behavior can be unhealthy, at least without moderation or self-awareness.

     In A Play of Bodies, Brendon Keogh notes how mainstream gaming operates within a neoliberal, masculine logic of domination: the player occupies a position ‘above’ the game (typically operating through an exceptional character with power such as a soldier, a superhero, or a commander) “to express an individualistic sense of mastery over the computer system” (178). Stephanie C. Jennings directly attributes these logics to Mass Effect 3 itself, asserting that the role of Shepard as unilateral arbiter for the fate of the entire galaxy constitutes a typical “world-savior” narrative which reproduces authoritarian impulses of white masculine exceptionalism (331-332). Under this ethos, the point of a game is to exert agency onto it to demonstrate personal prowess, a norm which Keogh attributes to the roots of the computer industry within hacker culture and the military-industry complex (176).

     By contrast, games which adopt an “integrated cyborg” (Keogh 172) approach to player-game relationships subvert the player’s ability to master its systems and ‘beat’ it, opening up the possibility for new “ways of knowing” (Keogh 181). This ethos is frequently practiced by feminist, queer, or other marginalized game creators, who employ it to express and impart the experience of existing as a disempowered individual with limited agency; such experiences are lessons that the dominant, masculine framework of gameplay as mastery rarely impart (Keogh 184-185). Bo Ruberg expresses similar ideas when writing about ways of queering video games, pushing against the dominant perception that games should be “fun” according to the Western hegemonic norms examined by Keogh. They note that games which fulfill these expectations are typically judged as “good” while games which fail or refuse (which often include queer or feminist titles) to are deemed “bad”, an attitude which limits the medium’s potential range of emotional or intellectual experiences to the normative (163).

     From this perspective, a player’s drive to be rewarded for their good work, while certainly very understandable, is intrinsically tied to masculine, hegemonic ideology; moreover, the insistence on evaluating the worth of games according to these standards is generally counterproductive to one’s receptiveness towards games that might challenge them and their position of power- games which might refuse to slavishly fulfill their wants in favor of forcing a new perspective or imparting an important message. Keogh notes as much of the hostile reception to games such as Gone Home, in which their very credibility as a video game is challenged due to their lack of opportunities for player agency (or challenge) beyond exploration (183), while Ruberg notes that this reticence to diversify the experiences found in games hides behind the sentiment that games should only be designed “just for fun,” observing that “when people think of video games that are no fun, they imagine games that tackle hard topics, games that seek to educate or enact “social change,” or experimental games that purposefully hurt players in order to reconfigure expectations for pain and pleasure” (160).

     When Mass Effect 3 concludes, it nullifies much of the fun that players had experienced up to that point by marginalizing the player’s efforts and agential decisions, to the point that Burgess and Jones observe multiple fans who professed no interest in replaying the trilogy now that they felt their actions throughout were now meaningless (and that the conclusion was too tragic). They likewise observe many players who asserted that, while they wanted a happy ending, such an outcome should have been “difficult to achieve, or even a sort of prize,” viewing reward and mastery as essential components of the desired experience (Burgess & Jones). Accordingly, many players who mod the ending do so in no small part to restore that sense of fun to the trilogy as a whole, to be reassured that their exertion of agency was not in vain.

     Even if the general consensus of Mass Effect 3’s reception agrees that its conclusion is poor, I suspect that the impulse to revise that ending, to make it more conventional in gaming terms, falls under this same refusal by players to accept that things can be beyond their control or that their time spent is not obligated to be rewarded. As the trilogy’s modding community moves from its foundational project towards increasingly granular story revisions, they embrace an underlying immaturity, reinforcing the perception of games as playthings or power fantasy rather than discursive object or rhetorical vessel. This mentality of course makes it more difficult to accept when a game does something disagreeable or disempowering with intentionality rather than out of failure, whereas the “integrated and cooperative relationship between the human and the computer” advocated by Keogh (184) relinquishes player control in favor of new understandings facilitated by that very lack.

     At the same time, where Mass Effect is concerned, this is the attitude which Bioware cultivated in its audience throughout the trilogy’s lifespan. The Mass Effect trilogy, through its branching web of choices and consequences, and through overt mechanics like the Suicide Mission or the third entry’s War Asset tally, brought up players to expect that there would be sufficient reward in return for the over 100 hours that a trilogy playthrough would necessitate, and that acting judiciously would secure a happier ending than acting recklessly would. In the end, Mass Effect’s modding community is a manifestation of the logics which informed the design of Mass Effect itself- an industrial commonsense which positioned the player’s agency (and pleasure) as paramount to all other concerns. Can such modding behaviors truly be constructed as liberatory, subversive, or open if they replicate the same desire for mastery over the game which informed the object to begin with? Moreover, can players who insist upon such firm control over their games still open themselves up to appraising video games as complex works of art- rather than as products?

 

Bibliography

Audemus. “Audemus’ Happy Ending Mod.” Nexus Mods, uploaded January 1st, 2022. https://www.nexusmods.com/masseffectlegendaryedition/mods/323.

Burgess, Jacqueline, and Christian M. Jones. “‘Is It Too Much to Ask That We’re Allowed to Win the Game?’: Character Attachment and Agency in the Mass Effect 3 Ending Controversy.” Bulletin of Science, Technology & Society, vol. 37, no. 3, 2017, pp. 146–58.

InvoicingEmu. “No N7 Armor in Liaras Apartment.” Nexus Mods, uploaded September 25th,  2022. https://www.nexusmods.com/masseffectlegendaryedition/mods/1456.

Jennings, Stephanie C.. “Only You Can Save the World (of Videogames): Authoritarian Agencies in the Heroism of Videogame Design, Play, and Culture.” Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies, vol. 28, no. 2, 2022, pp. 320-344.

Keogh, Brendan. A Play of Bodies: How We Perceive Videogames. The MIT Press, 2018.

Maher, Cian. “Mass Effect Legendary Edition Mods Will Be Better Than Ever.” Den of Geek, Jun 22, 2021. https://www.thegamer.com/mass-effect-legendary-edition-modding-renaissance/.

Ruberg, Bo. Video Games Have Always Been Queer. New York University Press, 2019.

Schleiner, Anne-Marie. The Player’s Power to Change the Game: Ludic Mutation. Amsterdam University Press, 2017.

Scottina123 and Jenya66. “Legion Lives.” Nexus Mods, uploaded March 13th, 2025. https://www.nexusmods.com/masseffectlegendaryedition/mods/2695.

Stang, Sarah. ““This Action Will Have Consequences”: Interactivity and Player Agency.” Game Studies, vol. 19, no. 1, May 2019. https://gamestudies.org/1901/articles/stang

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