This week our guest lecturer mentioned the concept of “ludonarrative dissonance.” I actually looked into this term a bit back in first year when I wrote my final essay, but I couldn’t find a fitting example at the time. Now I’m wondering if Monster Hunter, especially Wilds, could be considered a kind of narrative dissonance.

From World to Rise and now Wilds, the series has always revolved around the idea of “coexistence between humans and monsters.” Unless a monster threatens human life or the environment, there’s no reason to hunt it. The story reinforces this, especially in Wilds: before going after any monster, the player must obtain a hunting permit from Alma.

However, in actual gameplay, you’ll notice that as long as you enter combat with any monster, Alma immediately grants permission. On the surface that makes sense, but narratively it makes the dissonance even more subtle and complex.

The story insists on “coexistence” and “hunting only when necessary,”

yet the system automatically assumes you can fight anything.

If we compare this to the earlier titles:

In World, the ecological narrative was central. Researchers emphasized balance within the “New World” ecosystem, and hunters acted as observers and recorders.

But the gameplay still required endless grinding for materials.

The story said “study ecology,” but the system said “efficient slaughter.”

In Rise, the idea of coexistence became softer—villagers and monsters live side by side, and hunting feels like a ritual.

Yet mechanically, it’s still repetitive grinding; coexistence becomes a decorative theme.

Now, in Wilds, Capcom tried to patch that gap with the “permit” system—

to make players aware of the moral weight of their actions.

But because the system is so compliant, the moment you enter battle and instantly get approval, it highlights an even more ironic kind of peace.

That instant approval is actually satire: the game pretends you’re “getting consent,” but the system will always side with the hunter.

Of course, it’s not easy for Capcom to change this. The series’ core identity has always been smooth combat and co-op gameplay.

If the permit became a long process, it would break the game’s rhythm.

So I don’t think the issue is about “adding bureaucracy”—it’s about how to make players aware of what the permit means, even if it doesn’t interrupt the flow.

Here are a few possibilities I can think of:

1. Make the “permit” a symbolic act with consequences, not just a system prompt.

Right now, the permit is passive and cost-free.

If Capcom truly wants the idea of coexistence to hold weight, the system could introduce small choices and consequences without becoming too heavy.

For example, certain monsters could be endangered species, over-hunting them would cause ecological imbalance, and NPCs would react.

If you hunt without permission, Alma’s attitude could change, or you could get fined (though honestly, zenny barely matters in Monster Hunter).

In that case, the permit becomes a narrative signal—telling you why this hunt happens: ecological protection, defense, research, or accident.

It wouldn’t stop you from fighting, but it would quietly ask: “Are you maintaining balance, or disturbing it?”

2. Make “observation” and “combat” parallel gameplay options.

World had traces of this idea. tracking footprints, studying ecosystems—but Wilds weakens it.

While there are some “non-violent” side quests like observing or photographing wildlife, and a few that reward capture over killing, they feel underdeveloped.

If these tasks were more weight, then the hunting permit could actually mean:

“Do you want to remain an observer, or intervene?”

That would make coexistence an actual choice rather than a slogan.

Unfortunately, Capcom didn’t go far enough; Wilds’s non-violent missions are fewer and less rewarding than before.

3. Let the system learn to say no.

This is the change I want the most. Alma shouldn’t always say “permission granted. Sometimes she could hesitate or refuse:

“It hasn’t attacked humans today; maybe we can observe a bit longer.”

“The climate’s unstable, they’re migrating. Hunting now could disrupt the balance.”

Even if the player can still force the mission, that brief hesitation would create a small discomfort, just enough for the player to realize, I was warned.

The game doesn’t have to punish you; that flicker of guilt is already a powerful narrative moment.

4. Reinforce the coexistence theme through ecological feedback.

After a hunt, the monster’s corpse could attract scavengers, alter terrain, or affect future quests.

Villages and wild areas could change based on your actions, creating the sense that you’re shaping the ecosystem.

Then, even if you farm monsters daily, the world constantly reminds you that you’ve left traces behind.

To be fair, Wilds already experiments with this.

For instance, in the Windward Plains, a dragon’s corpse decays and attracts scavengers;

if you eliminate the scavengers, the carcass continues to rot and produces a rare material called “Wyvernsprout.” But it’s too subtle.

If I had to describe it, Wilds seems to be saying: “See? The world heals itself, so you don’t have to feel guilty.”

But guilt isn’t the point—awareness is.

Guilt stops you from acting, awareness lets you understand what you’re doing, even if you still choose to do it.

If the system tries to make the player feel guilty, it becomes moralistic and breaks the ritual of the hunt.

But if the game lets you sense the world’s pulse without shaming you, that’s a more mature narrative of coexistence.

Capcom seems to be moving toward that direction—a kind of non-criminalized awareness.

They don’t want you to feel like a villain; they want you to realize you’re a participant.

“The ecosystem changes because of you, but you’re not the destroyer, you’re part of it.”

That’s what Wilds seems to reach for: a non-anthropocentric narrative,

not “humans must protect monsters,” but “monsters, environment, and humans form a self-regulating system.”

From that perspective, guilt itself feels too human-centered.

Compassion and remorse belong to the human side, but nature doesn’t need your guilt.

It just keeps evolving.