Near the beginning of the game, there's a scene where your character gets in contact with his precinct (by police radio) and reports his badge missing. It's a mostly sombre scene which quite competently and subtly establishes the hero's past on the force without much exposition, just by picturing the characters' demeanor and attitude towards our cop. Half the precinct gathers around the communication officer to cruelly ridicule and tease us about the result of our latest escapade, while the poor drunk fails Reaction Speed checks, unable to defend his hurt Authority with any sort of comeback. And when it feels like he can't sink any lower, one of the cops delivers a devastating gut punch by asking one unexpected question... which I won't spoil. The whole scene is kinda hard to stomach, but it's more bittersweet than hopeless, thanks to the obvious humanity of the writer.
But that's not the point of me telling you this. It occurs at the end of the scene, when it looks like you're done and can continue with other business. Suddenly, you pass an Esprit de Corps check, and it brings about a sudden change in perspective. We witness the aftermath of our call on its other end. The officers are in the room, and they begin talking among themselves about what has just happened, and their tone is completely different. They change the mode to "he's not listening anymore." For a bit they continue in the same vein, lamenting the cop's current state, apparent suicidal/self-destructive tendencies, and revealing some more details about him. After a while, the mood changes. They reflect on the situation. Some of the officers decide not to give up on one of their own. A few of them get visibly uncomfortable and maybe ashamed of their recent behavior; someone tries to leave the room. Some back and forth later, the policemen decide to cut our hero some slack, cover for him, and maybe try to help the prodigal son step back into the ranks.
After that, out of nowhere, the last, absolutely brilliant phrase by Esprit de Corps comes, bringing us back to the motor car; to the small, sad, infinitely pitiable man who is wordlessly hunching over the silent police radio. And... it gives me shivers and moves me to tears. The profoundly sad tremolo in the post-rock-like song in the background just deepens the impact of that last bit. I sit there, thinking: what the fuck has just happened? Video games are not supposed to trigger Stendhal syndrome. This never happened before. How is this possible? Why did a half-hidden skill check show me a couple pages long vignette that squeezed some tears out of me?
So this is my question: how is this possible?
