Everyone calls him Pinocchio, but honestly, the game barely does. To Geppetto, he’s just a "son" or a "useful tool," depending on how much you trust that old man’s creepy vibes. He is P from Lies of P, a clockwork puppet who wakes up in a train car in the middle of a city-wide massacre, and he’s easily the most interesting protagonist we’ve seen in a Soulslike in years.
Krat is a nightmare. It’s this Belle Époque fever dream where the automated servants decided to turn everyone into red paste. In the middle of it all is P. He’s different from the other puppets because he can lie. That sounds like a small thing, right? It isn't. In this world, the "Grand Covenant" prevents puppets from lying or hurting humans. P breaks those rules. That’s his whole deal.
The brilliance of P from Lies of P isn't just that he fights well. It’s the slow, agonizing way he stops being a machine. If you play the game and tell the truth every time, you’re basically a toaster with a sword. But if you lie—if you tell a grieving mother her baby is cute even though it’s actually a puppet—your heart starts to beat. You feel "warmth." You start to see the humanity bleeding through the gears.
The Puppet Who Felt Too Much
Most games give you a silent protagonist and call it "immersion." Neowiz did something braver with P from Lies of P. They gave him a physical reaction to morality.
Every time you make a choice that favors human emotion over cold logic, the game tells you "Your springs are reacting." Then it's "The Ergo is whispering." Finally, you get "You feel warmth." It’s a visceral way to track character growth without a boring skill tree. You actually see it in his model, too. His hair grows. His animations change slightly. By the end, he isn't just a puppet pretending to be a boy; he’s a boy who happens to have a Legion Arm.
Think about the boss fight with Romeo, the King of Puppets. That's a turning point for many players. You realize that the "monsters" you’ve been killing might have had more agency than you thought. P’s silence during these moments makes his internal struggle feel louder. He’s caught between Geppetto’s demands and a world that is clearly more complicated than "puppets bad, humans good."
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Why the Combat Style Matters for the Lore
You can't talk about P from Lies of P without talking about how he handles a blade. He doesn't move like a human at first. There’s a jerkiness to his parries.
The weapon assembly system is actually a narrative masterstroke. You take a circular saw blade and stick it on a police baton handle. Why? Because P is an improviser. He’s a machine built for one thing but forced to do another. Unlike the Hunter in Bloodborne who feels like a professional, P feels like a survivor.
The Legion Arm is the real kicker. It’s literally a piece of him that he swaps out to suit his needs. Whether it's the Aegis shield or the Falcon Eyes cannon, it emphasizes that he is modular. He is a work in progress. This reflects the "Lie" mechanic perfectly. Just as he swaps his arm to survive, he swaps his "truth" to comfort others or protect himself.
The Ergo Problem
What is Ergo? It’s basically the soul of the game, both literally and figuratively. It’s the power source for Krat, but it’s also crystallized human memories. This is where things get dark for P from Lies of P.
If he’s powered by Ergo, is he actually Pinocchio? Or is he just a vessel for someone else’s memories? The game hints heavily that P is "built" from the Ergo of Geppetto’s deceased son, Carlo. This creates a massive identity crisis. You aren't just playing a puppet; you’re playing a ghost in a shell.
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The Ending Most People Get Wrong
There are three main endings, but the "Rise of P" ending is the one everyone chases. It’s the hardest to get because it requires the most "humanity."
To get it, you have to lie consistently, listen to all the records you find, and—crucially—give peace to Sophia. It’s a heavy moment. It’s the point where P stops following orders and starts making moral sacrifices. If you’ve done it right, his hair turns white. He cries. A puppet crying shouldn't be that emotional, but after thirty hours in Krat, it hits like a freight train.
The "Real Boy" ending is the trap. It’s what happens when you do exactly what Geppetto says. It’s the "bad" ending, even though it sounds like what the character should want. It proves that being "human" isn't about having a flesh-and-blood heart; it’s about having the agency to say "no" to your creator.
Lessons from the Streets of Krat
If you're looking to master the game or just understand the depth of P from Lies of P, you have to stop playing it like a standard action game. It's a role-playing game in the truest sense.
Prioritize the Records: Don't just collect them for the trophy. Go back to Hotel Krat and play them. This is how P "learns" to feel. It builds his humanity stat faster than almost anything else. It's the difference between a mechanical ending and a soulful one.
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The Truth is a Weapon: Sometimes, telling the truth is actually the "cruel" thing to do. The game challenges the idea that honesty is always a virtue. In a dying world, a beautiful lie is often more "human" than a cold truth.
Watch the Portrait: There’s a painting you find early on. The more you lie, the more a long nose (a wooden spear) grows from the portrait. This is a direct nod to the original Collodi story, but it also serves as a physical manifestation of P's growing soul. Once it’s fully grown, you can pull a secret weapon from it. It’s a literal reward for your "sins."
Experiment with the P-Organ: This is the upgrade system. It’s literally his heart. If you want to lean into the "human" playstyle, focus on upgrades that enhance your recovery and guard regain. It makes the combat feel more like a desperate struggle and less like a sequence of programmed inputs.
P from Lies of P stands out because he isn't a hero by choice. He’s a product of a madman’s grief who manages to find a soul in the wreckage of a fallen civilization. He’s a reminder that what makes us human isn't our biology, but our ability to feel empathy—even when it hurts, and even when it’s based on a lie.
To truly finish P's journey, you need to go beyond the final boss. Look at the post-credits scene. It hints at a much larger world—a "Paracelsus" and a "Dorothy." It suggests that P is just the first of many "awakened" beings. The next step is taking that white-haired, soulful version of P into New Game Plus. You’ll notice you can now understand what the Bosses are saying during their fights. Their distorted dialogue becomes clear. It’s a chilling realization: the monsters were screaming in pain the whole time, and only a "human" P is capable of hearing them.