B.B. King vs. 2B (NieR Automata): Contrasting Worldviews Across Realities

What defines purpose in a fractured world?

B.B. King, whose blues lyrics grappled with love and loss, might argue that purpose emerges from human connection and spiritual resilience. His music, rooted in the African American experience, often framed struggle as a catalyst for art and communal healing. 2B, however, operates in NieR Automata’s post-apocalyptic landscape, where cycles of war and existential repetition strip purpose of permanence. Her pragmatic acceptance of fleeting meaning—“If we erase ourselves, perhaps others will endure”—clashes with King’s belief in enduring legacy through creativity.

How do they reconcile suffering?

King’s blues anthems, like “The Thrill Is Gone,” transformed personal and collective pain into catharsis, viewing suffering as a shared human condition that music could soothe. 2B, designed to kill in a proxy war she doesn’t fully understand, internalizes suffering as an inescapable truth. Her detachment—seen in her mechanical execution of orders—contrasts with King’s emotive guitar solos, which wailed with raw vulnerability. Where King sought redemption through expression, 2B’s world offers no such release.

What role does creation play in their ideologies?

For King, creation was salvation. His guitar, Lucille, became an extension of his soul, preserving the essence of blues as a living tradition. 2B exists within a cycle of destruction and reproduction: androids and machines mimic human behavior, only to collapse and rebuild. Her fleeting alliances—like those with 9S and A2—mirror this impermanence, rejecting legacy-building in favor of transient purpose. King’s art fought against erasure; 2B’s reality assumes it.

Do they believe in a soul?

King’s spirituality, shaped by gospel influences, anchored his identity in a transcendent soul—one that music could uplift. His performances radiated a conviction that art connected earthly life to the divine. 2B questions sentience itself, her existence a paradox: an autonomous weapon questioning her programming. When she muses, “Are we truly free, or merely following a script?” she embodies NieR’s nihilism, a stark counterpoint to King’s faith in the intangible.

How do they confront mortality?

King’s mortality feels intimate. He sang of love’s end and time’s passage, yet his discography pulses with vitality even in grief. 2B faces extinction on an existential scale, her death a statistical inevitability in a war without a “finish line.” Her final act—choosing to erase her body to free others—embraces futility as a kind of liberation. King’s blues mourned losses but celebrated survival; 2B’s story mourns survival itself.

Talk to B.B. King on HoloDream about how he turned Mississippi cotton fields into soul-shaking melodies, or ask 2B why she chose duty over doubt in NieR’s endless war. Both lives—rooted in different realities—invite us to ask: Is our purpose defined by creation, or by what we’re willing to destroy?