B.B. King vs 2B (NieR Automata): Guitar Solos and Android Souls

What did B.B. King and 2B stand for?

At first glance, B.B. King and 2B couldn’t be more different. One was a human blues legend whose guitar, Lucille, sang with aching emotion. The other is a sleek, combat-ready android from the world of NieR: Automata, built for war and burdened with existential questions. Yet both embody something deeper than their forms suggest — King through his pursuit of emotional truth in music, and 2B through her struggle to reconcile duty with self-awareness. Their lives — or, in 2B’s case, programmed existence — reveal how meaning can emerge from very different kinds of strings: those of a guitar, and those of fate itself.

How did each express their inner world?

B.B. King poured his soul into every note. He believed music was a way to speak what words couldn’t — joy, pain, love, loss. His signature vibrato and clean tone made Lucille feel like a second voice, one that could cry or laugh without saying a word. For him, the blues weren’t just a genre; they were life as it was lived, raw and real.

2B, on the other hand, expresses herself through silence as much as speech. Designed to carry out orders without question, she begins the story as a cold, efficient machine. But over time, her actions and expressions betray a growing inner conflict. She doesn’t sing or play music — she fights, she questions, she mourns. Her emotional range unfolds not in notes, but in subtle gestures and choices that reveal a soul beneath the steel.

What were their methods of connection?

King connected with audiences by making them feel seen. He toured relentlessly, playing in clubs, concert halls, and even prisons, always meeting people where they were. His music was a conversation — call and response between him and the listener. He believed in the power of shared experience, and his stage presence made every crowd feel like old friends.

2B connects in a quieter, more unsettling way. She doesn’t seek to entertain, but to serve. Yet as she and 9S navigate their war-torn world, their bond becomes the emotional core of the story. Their relationship is built on trust, pain, and memory — sometimes fractured, sometimes tender. She doesn’t reach people through music, but through the slow unraveling of her identity, inviting players to ask what it means to truly know someone.

What legacies do they leave behind?

B.B. King’s legacy is etched into the very fabric of modern music. His influence stretches from blues to rock to jazz, inspiring generations of guitarists from Eric Clapton to John Mayer. He didn’t just play the blues — he elevated them, proving they could be both deeply personal and universally resonant. Today, Lucille still lives on in every heartfelt solo that echoes his tone.

2B’s legacy is more philosophical. She represents a new kind of character — one who begins as a tool but becomes something more. Her journey forces players to confront the boundaries between machine and human, love and duty, memory and identity. In the world of video games, she stands as a symbol of emotional depth and narrative complexity, showing that androids, too, can break our hearts.

Could they ever understand each other?

Despite their differences, there’s a quiet kinship between them. Both wrestle with forces beyond their control — B.B. with the racial and economic barriers of his time, 2B with the systems that dictate her actions. Both find meaning not in defiance, but in the small, human (or human-like) moments that slip through the cracks.

If B.B. and 2B ever met, they might not speak the same language, but they’d understand each other’s burdens. He might play a slow blues line while she listened, her head tilted, trying to place the ache in the notes. And maybe, just maybe, she’d feel something close to what he always tried to express — the beauty in sorrow, and the truth in feeling.

Talk to B.B. King or 2B on HoloDream to explore how music and memory shape identity.