Brasas: Well... critiques pointing to ludonarrative dissonance were a reaction to perceptions of excessive focus on message and narrative in games, to the implied detriment of their more fundamental mechanical attributes. The opposite also, where creators more focused on message, rebelled against the constraints mechanics imposed on their work.
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I don't go as far to say a game with both is always better than a game without one of them...
I do. Some people can't design their way out of a paper bag. If they want to deliver a Very Special message, it is incredibly important that the game mechanics do not undermine it. I don't mean "make for a fun button-mashing exercise without the story" -- I'm fine with games which aren't competitive, or replayable, or one true build RPGs. The story is what happens when you play. Everything is part of the story.
A game environment is a model of the world. It rewards, punishes and teaches the player about how things are. It is
easy to take away an implicit message "and the real world works the same way" (and some games do an explicit "and the real world is exacly the opposite, here's why that matters").
I'm playing Stardew Valley now. It's a game about community building, friendship, caring, living in harmony with nature and all that adorably wholesome stuff. The designated antagonist is Joja Corporation, a cubicle farm your character is a former employee of. In the beginning, there's a scene intended to be oh so sincerely poignant in which the protagonist's grandpa is dying and bequeathes them a farm ("when you're tired of the rat race and want some peace and quiet, here's your salvation" -- not an exact quote but close enuff).
And then, it two years, Grandpa's ghost pops up and berates you if you
haven't hyper-optimized your farm and married the first person you got to know.
This was patched out in the newest version -- but seriously, what was the dev thinking?
I also tried Undertale, famous for its nonviolent path which launched a thousand thinkpieces. It actually starts with a very heavy-handed moralizing challenge: "ah, you think you're so high and mighty to try a pacifist playthrough, but when you keep repeatedly dying, your patience will eventually wear out and you'll go for the easy genocide solution, because you humans are all the same".
Now most videogames, even Undertale at its surface, have a more powerful pro-violence message than real life. Real life has no takebacksies; games do, and you can actually look at the mechanics and see which method of dealing with obstacles produces the best outcome. You won't ever know if your decision was really the best and if things could have turned out differently. But in the game, you know. You can reload, or retry, or refer to the communal experience, or look at the code. There's always the best solution, and the more "highbrow" the game is, the more it demands that you accept its best solution as true IRL.
So, in Undertale, most monsters try to
kill you to death, lethally.
Your character is 100% justified in trying to kill them. The game only works because it goes meta and save/load is part of the narrative:
you the player are immortal and have the godlike power to kill or redeem monsters, only limited by your divine patience and benevolence... and, uh, reaction speed. Because there's a stupid fucking minigame to be played in between talking attempts. Learn your lesson, disabled people, you can never be heroes and peacemakers.