You go about this by taking on random jobs to earn money and soldiers to build up your forces - people you kill or extract are typically important generals or higher-ups, but they amount to nothing more than random targets in the grand scheme of the story, as the loss of their presence on the battlefield has virtually no effect on the day-to-day operations of your opposition. Your mission: seek revenge against Skull Face for destroying Mother Base during the events of Ground Zeroes nine years ago. It's this shift in focus that is simultaneously MGS5's greatest asset and biggest downfall. The Phantom Pain is no different, though it trades the series' linear set-pieces and half-hour-long cutscenes for an open-world, do-what-you-like approach to the game's many missions and a story more interested in immediate emotion than in ramming soliloquies down your throat every 15 minutes. Metal Gear games are paradoxes - mega-budget productions made by huge teams that still have a spark of weirdness from an auteur that, whether you like his particular voice or not, shines through in every aspect.
How can a game be this well-designed and brilliant to play and still feel like a total mess? Can a game be your favorite and least favorite at the exact same time? Because that's the sort of mental gymnastics I've been dealing with since I rolled credits (full credits, mind) for the third time in Metal Gear Solid 5: The Phantom Pain, witnessing the game's true ending.
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