Quantic Dream is a weird studio. They make games that feel like movies, but sometimes they get so caught up in the "cinematic" part that they forget how humans actually talk. Then you play a game like Beyond: Two Souls and everything shifts. It’s been years since it dropped, yet the Beyond Two Souls characters still spark heated debates on forums and Reddit. Why? Because David Cage didn't just write a sci-fi story about a girl and her ghost; he wrote a messy, sprawling biography about trauma.
Jodie Holmes is the heart of it all. You follow her from age eight to her mid-twenties. It's a lot. Most games give you a character at their peak, fully formed and ready to kick ass. Jodie is rarely ready. She’s often terrified, exhausted, or just wants a normal life that she can't have because of Aiden, the tethered entity that lives in the Infraworld.
The Tragic Duality of Jodie Holmes and Aiden
Ellen Page (now Elliot Page) gave a performance that basically carried the entire project. If the acting hadn't been this grounded, the whole "paranormal CIA agent" plot would have folded under its own weight.
Jodie isn't a superhero.
She's a victim of circumstance. From the moment her adoptive parents, Philip and Susan, realize she isn't "normal," her life becomes a series of cages. First, it’s the lab at the Department of Paranormal Activity (DPA). Then it’s the CIA. Even when she’s homeless or living on a ranch, she’s never truly free.
Aiden is the most fascinating of the Beyond Two Souls characters because he isn't even human, yet he has a clearer personality than half the NPCs in most modern RPGs. He's jealous. He’s protective. Sometimes, he’s a straight-up jerk. Remember the birthday party scene? If you choose to let Aiden wreak havoc, you aren't just playing a game mechanic; you’re expressing the pent-up rage of a child who has been poked and prodded by scientists her whole life.
That bond is the emotional anchor. Without it, the game is just a collection of disjointed scenes. With it, it’s a story about the cost of never being alone.
Nathan Dawkins and the Danger of Grief
Willem Dafoe brings a level of gravitas to Nathan Dawkins that makes his eventual descent into madness feel earned rather than scripted. For most of the game, he's the father figure Jodie never had. He's kind. He’s patient. He defends her against the cold bureaucracy of the government.
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But grief is a monster.
When Nathan loses his wife and daughter in a car accident, his obsession with the Infraworld stops being academic. It becomes personal. This is where the writing gets sharp. Nathan isn't a "villain" in the traditional sense for 90% of the game. He's a broken man with too much power and a direct line to the afterlife.
His arc serves as a warning. While Jodie spends the game trying to distance herself from the dead, Nathan is trying to drag them back into the light. It’s a parallel that many players miss on their first run through the non-linear timeline. He represents what happens when you can't let go, whereas Jodie represents the struggle of being forced to hold on.
The DPA Support System: Cole Freeman
If Nathan is the tragic father, Cole Freeman is the steady uncle. Kadeem Hardison plays Cole with a warmth that provides a necessary contrast to the sterile environment of the DPA.
Cole is one of the few Beyond Two Souls characters who treats Jodie like a person instead of a specimen or a weapon. He’s the one who stays. When Nathan loses his mind, Cole is still there, trying to do the right thing. It’s a thankless role in the narrative, but he’s the moral compass that keeps the player grounded when the plot starts veering into "global apocalypse" territory.
Ryan Clayton: Love or Manipulation?
Let's talk about Ryan. People hate Ryan Clayton. Or they love him. There’s rarely an in-between.
As a CIA handler, he starts off as an arrogant, cold-hearted recruiter who manipulates a vulnerable young woman into becoming a government assassin. It's predatory. It’s uncomfortable. Yet, the game tries to sell him as the primary love interest.
- He lies to her.
- He forces her into dangerous situations.
- He shows genuine remorse later, but is it enough?
Whether you choose to forgive him or tell him to kick rocks at the end of the game is one of the biggest "character tests" for the player. Some see his growth as a redemption arc; others see it as a toxic relationship that Jodie is better off escaping. This ambiguity makes him one of the more realistic portrayals of a flawed individual in the Quantic Dream library, even if he is deeply unlikeable for the first half of the story.
The People on the Margins
Beyond the main cast, the game thrives in its "short story" format. The characters Jodie meets during her time as a fugitive provide the most emotional depth.
Take the homeless group in "Navajo" or the squatters in "Homeless." Stan, Walter, Jimmy, and Tuesday. These aren't people with "lore" or "stats." They’re just people trying to survive. When you’re helping Tuesday deliver a baby in a freezing abandoned building, the stakes feel higher than when you’re infiltrating a secret base in China.
Why? Because the game stops being about sci-fi and starts being about human connection. These minor Beyond Two Souls characters reflect different facets of Jodie’s own isolation. They are outcasts by choice or by society's failure, mirroring her own status as an outcast by nature.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Endings
There’s a common misconception that the choices in Beyond: Two Souls don't matter because the endings are "menu-based." That's a shallow way to look at it.
The characters’ fates are determined by the cumulative weight of your empathy. If you’ve played Jodie as a bitter, vengeful person, choosing "Beyond" feels like an escape. If you’ve found fragments of beauty in her life—through Paul at the ranch or the people on the streets—choosing "Life" feels like a hard-won victory.
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The "Beyond" itself is populated by the ghosts of characters you’ve seen die throughout the journey. Seeing Shimasani or even the "bad guys" in that space changes your perspective on the entire conflict. It’s not about heaven or hell; it’s about the energy left behind.
Actionable Insights for Players and Writers
If you’re revisiting the game or looking to understand why these character archetypes work, keep these points in mind:
Focus on the internal conflict over the external threat.
The "Black Sun" and the world-ending stakes are actually the least interesting parts of the game. The real tension comes from Jodie’s desire for normalcy versus Aiden’s chaotic nature. When writing or analyzing characters, always look for that "internal anchor" that tethers them to reality.
Understand the "Grief Pivot."
Nathan Dawkins is the perfect case study in how to turn a mentor into an antagonist without making them "evil." Use a relatable emotion—like the loss of a child—and push it to a logical extreme.
Don't shy away from unlikeable protagonists.
Ryan Clayton works because he is polarizing. In your own creative work, or when evaluating media, remember that a character doesn't have to be "good" to be effective. Sometimes, the most memorable characters are the ones who make us feel a specific type of discomfort.
Contextualize the "Quiet Moments."
The scene where Jodie prepares for a date is just as important as the scene where she fights a SWAT team. Character is built in the mundane. To truly appreciate the Beyond Two Souls characters, you have to pay attention to how they act when nothing is exploding.
To get the most out of the story today, play the "Remastered" version in chronological order. While the original release's jumped-around timeline was experimental, seeing Jodie’s life unfold linearly makes the character development of Nathan and Cole hit much harder. You see the slow erosion of their hope in real-time. It changes everything.