He’s a mess. Honestly, that’s the first thing anyone thinks when they see Nathan Prescott for the first time in the girls' bathroom at Blackwell Academy. He’s shaking. He has a gun. He’s yelling at a blue-haired girl about money and respect. It’s a violent, uncomfortable introduction that sets the stage for one of the most polarizing characters in the history of choice-based gaming. Most players spend the first three episodes of Life is Strange absolutely loathing him. Why wouldn't they? He's the archetypal rich kid bully with a god complex. But as you dig into the Prescott family history and the rot beneath Arcadia Bay, Nathan stops being a simple antagonist. He becomes a case study in how trauma, mental illness, and parental neglect can turn a kid into a monster.
He isn't just a villain. He's a victim who created more victims.
The Prescott Legacy and the Weight of Arcadia Bay
The Prescotts basically own the town. You can’t walk five feet in Arcadia Bay without seeing their name on a building or a park bench. This isn't just flavor text; it’s the cage Nathan lives in. Sean Prescott, Nathan's father, is a man who values "destiny" and "legacy" over the actual well-being of his son. If you read the emails found on the Prescott computers in the game, the pressure is suffocating. Sean doesn't see a son; he sees a PR liability that needs to be "fixed" with money and threats.
This environment created a vacuum. Nathan needed a father figure, and unfortunately, Mark Jefferson was more than happy to fill that role.
The Jefferson Influence
It’s easy to blame Nathan for everything that happens to Rachel Amber and Kate Marsh. But the reality is far more sinister. Jefferson didn't just teach Nathan photography; he groomed him into a distorted version of an "artist." Nathan was desperate for approval. He wanted someone to look at his work and see value, not just a disappointment to a family name. Jefferson used that. He channeled Nathan’s instability into the Dark Room project.
Nathan’s own "art" is a horrific window into his mind. While Jefferson’s photos are clinical, clean, and terrifyingly "perfect," Nathan’s photos are chaotic. They are covered in frantic scribbles, dark ink, and expressions of pure agony. He wasn't looking for beauty; he was trying to capture the way he felt inside. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s a cry for help that nobody in a position of power bothered to hear until it was far too late for Rachel.
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What Most People Get Wrong About Nathan’s Mental Health
There is a huge misconception that Nathan is just "evil" or "psycho." While the game doesn't explicitly hand you a medical chart, the evidence of his deteriorating mental state is everywhere. We see the medication in his room. We see the frantic drawings. We see the hallucinations he hints at during his outbursts.
He’s suffering from what appears to be a severe undiagnosed or poorly managed psychotic disorder, likely exacerbated by the drugs he was taking (and being given).
- The Overmedication Factor: In his room, you find Risperidone. That’s a heavy-duty antipsychotic. The fact that he’s still having violent outbursts and paranoid delusions suggests either the dosage was wrong or he was mixing it with the "party favors" he distributed at the Vortex Club.
- The "Manifest Destiny" Delusion: His father’s constant drumming of Prescott superiority likely fed into a narcissistic defense mechanism. When you feel like the smallest person in the room, you scream the loudest about being the biggest.
He was a ticking time bomb. The tragedy is that the people who should have defused him—the school principal, his father, his doctor—were the ones holding the matches.
The Phone Call That Changes Everything
If you play through Episode 5, you get that voicemail. If you haven't heard it in a while, it’s worth a replay, though it’s genuinely hard to listen to. Nathan calls Max. He’s crying. He’s terrified. He knows Jefferson is coming for him.
"I've done so much s***, Max... I didn't want to hurt anyone. I really didn't. I was just... used."
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This isn't an excuse. It doesn't bring Rachel back. It doesn't undo the trauma he inflicted on Kate. But it does provide the nuance that Life is Strange is famous for. In his final moments, the "cool kid" persona is gone. The Prescott bravado is dead. All that’s left is a scared teenager who finally realized he was a pawn in a much older man’s sick game. He warns Max. He tries, in the only way he has left, to do one right thing.
It’s a stark contrast to how he is portrayed in the prequel, Before the Storm. There, we see a younger Nathan who is actually somewhat sympathetic. He’s being bullied by older students. He’s trying to fit in. You see the exact moments where his spirit starts to break. It makes his descent in the original game feel inevitable, which is perhaps the saddest part of the entire Blackwell saga.
The Moral Dilemma of Nathan Prescott
Should we forgive him? That’s the question that keeps the fandom up at night.
On one hand, he killed Rachel Amber. He drugged Chloe. He bullied Kate Marsh to the point of a suicide attempt. These are unforgivable acts. In many ways, Nathan represents the "banality of evil"—how a lack of accountability and a massive ego can lead to horrific consequences. He had choices. He could have told someone about Jefferson. He could have walked away.
On the other hand, the game asks us to look at the systemic failure. If Nathan had been born into a different family, or if Principal Wells hadn't been on the Prescott payroll, would any of this have happened? Probably not. Nathan is the product of a toxic environment that rewarded his worst impulses and punished his vulnerabilities.
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Why the "Save Chloe" Ending Hits Differently
When you choose to sacrifice Arcadia Bay, Nathan’s fate is sealed in the storm, but he’s already dead by Jefferson’s hand anyway. But in the "Sacrifice Chloe" ending, Nathan is arrested. There is a sense of justice, but it’s hollow. The town is saved, but the cycle of the Prescotts is broken in the most violent way possible.
Actionable Insights for Players Revisiting the Story
If you’re heading back to Blackwell for another playthrough, or if you’re looking to understand the lore deeper, pay attention to these often-missed details:
- Check the flyers: Look at the posters in the hallways. Nathan’s involvement in the Vortex Club isn't just about parties; it’s about control. Note how the "missing" posters for Rachel are often defaced near where Nathan hangs out.
- Read the Prescott Emails: In Episode 4, when you're in the bunker and the Prescott estate, don't just rush the puzzles. Read the correspondence between Sean and Nathan. It’s the most clear evidence of the psychological abuse Nathan endured.
- The Bathroom Scene: Watch Nathan’s hands in the very first scene of the game. He isn't just angry; he’s experiencing a massive panic attack. His body language is a huge tell for his mental state throughout the series.
- The Art Gallery: Compare Nathan’s room in the dormitory to the "Dark Room." You’ll see how he was trying to mimic Jefferson’s style but failing because his own mind was too chaotic.
Nathan Prescott remains a haunting figure because he reminds us that villains aren't born; they're built. He is a reminder that unchecked power and ignored mental health struggles have a body count. Whether you see him as a monster or a tragic figure, his impact on the story of Max Caulfield and Chloe Price is undeniable. He is the dark shadow of Arcadia Bay, the proof that beneath the sunset and the indie folk music, something was very, very wrong.
To fully grasp the tragedy, one must look at the "Before the Storm" theater scene. Nathan, playing a role in the play, actually finds a moment of peace. For a few minutes, he isn't a Prescott. He’s just a kid on a stage. That’s the Nathan that could have been, and that’s the version that makes the "Life is Strange" version so much harder to swallow.