Arthur's Journal: Stitching the Seam Between Player and Character
Disclaimer: For the sake of simplicity, I'm assuming the high honor route of Arthur's character is the "canon" of RDR2. Also, I am very new to this fan space! I played the game for the first time earlier this month and it has consumed the entire analyst part of my brain. Reply to this post if you make RDR2 essay posts—I would love to follow you!!
Starting off by saying that Arthur's journal in RDR2 is not a "new" concept, per se.
Most mainstream story games have a mission record, typically serving just as an updated recap of current quests/missions/story events. Having some sort of event log has become a nearly mandatory feature in open-world games, especially as games are only getting bigger and more complex (Does that mean they are getting better? No, but I digress), and people are only getting busier.
The thing that differentiates the player character journal in RDR2 from the typical event log used in so many high-budget games out there—and the thing that I want to focus on, here—is its masterful use of biased storytelling to flesh out the nuances of Arthur Morgan's worldview, personality and character voice.
For example, read Arthur's coverage of hunting the bear in chapter 2:
Took a day off and went off hunting with Hosea. He really seems to be getting his strength back a bunch, although he was lucky not to die as this big bear he’d been after turned on us.
I thought when we was stuck up in the mountains that the cold and the misery would kill him, and we’d bury him like we buried Jenny and Davey. But he pulled through and he’ll live a while yet.
I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.
This bear was also something else. Size of a god damn hotel, it was, and mean with it.
Character voice is seldom used in game mission logs across the board, but even more rare is the extent to which Arthur's journal takes it. The only relevant "events" communicated to the player in this segment are this:
Arthur went hunting with Hosea
Both were nearly killed by a bear, but apparently outfought it.
That info could have—and perhaps should have, for the sake of economy—been covered in two bullet points. But instead, the devs choose to let their player character record not just what happened, not even just how he felt about what happened, but also cover branching thoughts only loosely tied to the events discussed.
This mix of tangents, opinion, and fact makes the journal feel organic, almost stream-of-consciousness...and it's a big part of why Arthur's mission commentary feels more like a piece of developing history within Red Dead's world and not just a mechanic.
Arthur doesn't have to specify that he was afraid for Hosea in the mountains, but he does.
Arthur doesn't have to revisit the passing of Jenny and Davey to emphasize his point, but doing so implies their deaths are still very much on his mind.
The line
[Hosea]'s kind and fair and like a human being.
being written just after the specification that Arthur loves Hosea more than he does Dutch (ALSO an arguably irrelevant detail but fascinating to know) is so powerful even in its brevity, because it implies devastatingly early in the story that Arthur already doesn't think of the gang as regular human beings in the same way "folk" are.
Arthur knows they're all behaving like animals, even if he doesn't see reason to change at this point. He knows that Hosea has been hand drawing the family's ever-blurring distinction between men and monsters, and he loves Hosea for it.
To take the animal symbolism even further, the concept of Arthur and Hosea baiting and handling a creature far too powerful for them to handle alone, only for it to literally "turn on us both" is very interesting, especially when Arthur draws the connection between Dutch and the bear seemingly without even meaning to beyond a mirrored sentence structure:
"Dutch is something else. This bear was also something else."
In short, a simple, 1-and-a-half-page recap covering a blip in the story's opening is already managing to foreshadow the devastating consequences of Hosea's death and Dutch's moral collapse.
And the thing is, this dimension of the journal's depth doesn't stop here. Not only does Arthur's journal cover his thoughts through text and drawn pictures, his handwriting, annotation and omittance tells a story, too.
For example: Arthur's commentary on Mary's second letter.
"Mary wrote to me.
'WANTS TO SEE ME AGAIN.'
Oh, Mary, what fools we are. What a fool I am."
The whole entry, although brief, seems to poke fun at Mary's partial manipulation. Arthur knows what she's doing, but he doesn't seem to care. At least, not beyond simple acknowledgement of it and what it could lead to.
He writes Mary's name almost in imitation of her own flourishing handwriting, and concentrates the point of her whole wordy, winding letter into a simple statement:
WANTS TO SEE ME AGAIN.
If Arthur didn't plan on going to her, he would either end the entry there, or make it explicitly clear that he doesn't want to.
Instead, he caps off the entry by mirroring Mary's discontented: "Oh, Arthur", and calls the pair of them fools—going as far as to both repeat that HE is a fool, and underline it in a slanting gash for good measure. It's not immediately clear why he considers the pair of them to be fools; it could be that he knows nothing good can come of foundless dreams. It could be that he thinks Mary a fool for assuming he doesn't see her manipulation, or that he thinks himself a fool for falling headlong into it.
Regardless, by calling himself a fool Arthur clearly implies he will go to her, without ever needing to explicitly say so.
Another example of subtle storytelling through annotation is the journal entry after the infamous Mr. Downes mission: Money Lending and Other Sins III:
"I went to call in a loan, some farmer, local do gooder. Think I’d seen him in Valentine before when I was fighting that big fella. He begged and coughed and spluttered and I beat him half to death. Such is life. Such is the world. His boy looked at me like I was the devil and perhaps for him, I was. The whole thing confused me. Maybe that’s wrong. The whole thing revolted me/my part. These sad, sad, desperate bastards, their silly expectations of life and their tawdry reality. The unkindness of existence—I can handle that just fine. But I do not love it, nor those who try to make things otherwise, I guess."
Outside the mission's debrief, Arthur writes in large, imposing letters:
"- STRAUSS -",
clearly marking who set him on the mission, and marking by extension why he finds the man unsavory at best. In a way, annotating this particular event as an order from Strauss hints at his core role as a symbol of Arthur's unredeemed way of life, but that's an idea for another post with a lot more evidence and respective tangents.
There's a reason it's so easy to almost hear Arthur's voice over his journal entries.
Rockstar Games understood their player character so well that they managed to use a very mundane, time-conscious mechanic to further establish a character voice already so distinct.
There are nuances to Arthur's personality that would be otherwise hidden in subtext, left to the player base to dissect and analyze as we see fit...but because RDR2 uses the journal as more than just a mission log, we get to see exactly what opinions, thoughts, concerns, biases, hang-ups and hesitations Arthur chooses to keep to himself.
That's something very difficult to communicate effectively in primarily visual media, let alone a video game that has pretty meager emphasis on dialogue decisions...and it's part of the reason Arthur feels like a living, breathing part of Red Dead's world, and not like a typical player character.
Credit to @reddeadreference for all in-game journal screenshots and transcript! Credit to a deleted user on Reddit for all B/W journal images
The right page always seems to look the same, but the left one has various versions with different graphite stains from, presumably, Arthur turning/holding the page(s).
I made these using the journal part of the old RDR2 companion app (pretty sure it doesn't work anymore) which is why the bottom has the weird black lines.
(This post is all of the journal pages and typed transcripts that were written specifically for this chapter. This post will not include stranger missions or side stuff.)
After The Joys of Civilization
We've moved again. More trouble with the Pinkertons. More trouble with them locals. More trouble all around.
Little Jack's been kidnapped, so we're trying to find him. Apparently some fella in Saint Denis,
Senor something or other, took umbrage to our presence and kidnapped him or, heaven forbid, worse. We burnt down Braithwaite Manor when we went hunting for him, in an almighty scrap.
Then we got spoken to again by Agent Milton. This time, he asked us for Dutch's head on a platter.
We got him to leave, but they ain't too pleased with us.
So we headed into Saint Denis to find little Jack. We was told he'd been kidnapped by some local gangster, this Italian feller called Bronte, a local tough guy.
We ain't found him, but he's found us. Dutch and I headed into town and I managed to get myself robbed by a bunch of children. This was a new low, even by my standards. Anyway, we found Mr Bronte and
are going to pay him a call.
We better get the boy back soon, not least because if we don't Abigail will kill the lot of us. All this after we burned down the Braithwaite Manor house looking for him and made some real enemies of ourselves back in that country.
We're now hiding deep in the swamps, trying not to get
eaten by wildlife or sunk too deep in the mud. I cannot decide which I like less - the swamps or the city. Both are full of parasites, reptiles and slime, but the swamp's prettier.
Dutch is trying to think of where we can run next, but in the meantime, we are deep in the swamps. Hiding in some disease ridden old plantation house, mostly swallowed up by nature.
Guess we will find Jack, get some money, then flee, but where?
These bastards ain't giving up. We're a long way east of land we know and far from real open country.
After Angelo Bronte, A Man of Honor
I always heard Saint Denis was one of the 7 wonders of the world. If this is so, I don't care much to see the other 6. It's a depressing place that shows you the only thing worse than people is a whole lot of people.
I have not ever met a lizard in a suit before, only now I have and his name is Angelo Bronte. He is either our salvation or our damnation. This city's strongman, arrived from Italy a few years ago and now knows and controls
everything and everyone. He had not harmed Jack, other than feeding him strange food, and Dutch seems to think that maybe we can get something from this oily dictator. Personally, I don't trust him more than I'd trust any hungry animal not to try and eat me, but for now, we are somewhat safe and hidden. Whole place gives me the creeps.
Mary wrote to me.
WANTS TO SEE ME AGAIN.
Oh, Mary, what fools we are, what a fool I am.
After Fatherhood and Other Dreams
Saw Mary and the awful Daddy, who has taken to drink, which unsurprisingly ain't improved him a whole lot. What a foul pig he is. Taken to hawking off family heirlooms and cursing the world for it. Still a stuck up son of a bitch.
Now Mr. Linton has passed away, I wonder what he wants for his daughter? Funny thing is, I love her and yet am a bad lot.
Old Daddy is a good, upright man and yet he
treats his daughter like a possession to be mistreated and abused as he sees fit. Strange creatures, men.
I don't know. All I know is that I love her and she both loves and detests me. It never worked before and it won't ever work now, yet it gnaws at me, the idea of it gnaws at me like a sickness.
I've got to give all that nonsense up. I'm an outlaw, a murderer, a man with a code different to ordinary folk, and Mary ain't never going to be for my world.
Optional
We went to a Vaudeville show in town.
Dancing from France. Quite a business. What is wrong with me? Do I really think I can retire someplace nice and live a normal life with a wife?
Am I a big enough dolt to believe that is possible?
After The Gilded Cage
My lord, now I have done everything. I went to a ball, like a fool in a fairy tale. The mayor of Saint Denis. Dutch got us invited by old Señor Bronte and off we trooped, trussed up like turkeys for Thanksgiving and waxed and polished and primped to within an inch of our lives. Bronte did not mingle with the other guests but lorded over the place like a Roman Emperor deciding who to have killed for his fun. Place was full of drunks, lunatics, liars and clowns. But the thing was kind of fun. Managed to not get into too much trouble and may have some business
opportunities on account of enquiries there. We shall see, I guess. Seeing Bill dressed up like an ambassador and awkward as a school girl was one of the funniest moments of my life. Met Evelyn Miller, the writer, which was amazing for Dutch. Met the mayor. Dutch and Hosea seem to think this dump is a world of possibilities. They want to look into the bank and some other business opportunities. We shall see. As long as we can keep ahead of the Pinkertons and Mr Cornwall and the rest of them for a while, maybe we shall be okay.
After American Fathers
Met that writer Evelyn Miller in the street. He remembered me from the party - apparently my petty crime did not go entirely unnoticed.
Better keep my head down a little better. He introduced me to a couple of Indians. Father and son. Son angry, father with an air of, of what exactly?
Of something both impressive and frightening and kind about him. A great man, defeated by powerful and awful forces? I do not know, but his eyes, his very manner spoke to me.
Somehow, I've agreed to help them.
Seems they, like us, have problems with that gilded ape, Leviticus Cornwall and his foul empire. We shall see how this pans out.
After Horsemen, Apocalypses
Kieran, that poor kid we spared from O'Driscoll's gang up in the mountains is dead, killed by the bastards. He saved my life and I could not save his. They chopped his head off and tried to kill the lot of us.
Mrs Adler fought braver than any of us. She is driven by powerful forces I scarcely understand. That's what love has done to her, I guess. I feel like an animal, living out in the mud here. Whole place gives me the creeps.
K. RIP t
After Urban Pleasures
Seems those of us who thought Angelo Bronte was a lizard in a suit was right and them as thought he was a gentleman thief eager to help us on our merry way was wrong. Bastard sent us into a trap in town. Told us to rob a trolley station - no money but the entire police force waiting for us. Dutch nearly died. Lenny fought real hard - the kid is good in a fight - and saved us. Dutch is planning some big escape for us all. Some grand master plan. Everything we are attempting here seems troubled. I hope we can get out of here ALIVE.
Right now, it don't seem likely. Dutch is raging about Bronte's deception or betrayal or whatever quite it was. Dutch don't like being made a fool of. Even Micah with all his teasing and needling plays it real cool with Dutch. I would not want to be Bronte right now.
I cannot see Dutch letting this pass.
After Revenge is a Dish Best Eaten
Went to teach Angelo Bronte a lesson. Taught him something, I guess. Taught him alligators have a nasty way about them. Dutch is torn between his dreams of escape and his need to prove something or other, I don't quite know what. Not sure he does. Wants us to make one last big haul of cash $$$, then flee for TAHITI. Retire and become farmers. Where the hell is Tahiti? I guess they don't have Pinkertons there, at least. All them years we dreamed of being ranchers out in virgin lands in the WEST.
Now it's bananas and coconuts and long boat rides. Guess anywhere the train can get to, the law can get to. Dutch probably has it right. This country really don't want folk like us no more.
From ocean to ocean, place is going to law abiding and decent and dulled and rigid, until folks have frozen themselves into nothingness.
The people in this city are worse and more desperate than the nastiest gun slinger I ever met.
They'd shoot you in the back and make you pay
for your own funeral. They throw shit on you for sport. They walk past the lost and starving like they can't see them. Keep feeling sick but I'm it's nothing. This damn swamp. Ain't natural.
“Doyle Missouri” “BM” “R.M” “R.S” “J.V.Henry 1842 Dortha - Ohio” The next two start on the bottom right of the photo above and wrap around to the first photo. “R.Mack Otis. MA” “R.S.G 98″
“S. Gray 1846″
“Mary [?]” “J. Brooks US Post 1863″ “J.V.Henry 1842 Dortha - Ohio” (yes that last one is on there twice) “Henry Matilda Calif.” “ORW 135″ “.8DB8.″ “Jm” “.A. West” “Oregon Wagon Train Jasper Munson 1882”
Journal Differences
Both versions take note of the following names/carvings (shown in the first photo): “W*Y*B” “B * Ward" “Frank Heck 75″ “Criley _ Wyoming” “T.Bart - Texas” “[DOF]" “A. Pickel - 41″ “[WSF]”
