To All the Child Soldiers,
This is Snake.
I know you. I’ve seen the look in your eyes, the weight you carry on your shoulders. They trained you to fight, to kill, to survive—but never to live. They told you that you were soldiers, but they treated you like weapons—disposable, replaceable, forgotten when the war was over.
But I’m here to tell you… you are not disposable. You are not tools for the powerful. You are not ghosts meant to disappear when the battlefield falls silent.
You fought their wars. You bled for their causes. And now? They want to pretend you never existed.
I won’t let that happen.
I don’t care if I have to walk through every marble hall of the United Nations myself—I will force them to recognize you. To give you the honor you deserve. To award you the medals they give to men twice your age who did half as much.
You were forced to grow up too fast. Forced to make choices no child should ever face. But listen to me—you are still here. And that means something. It means your fight isn’t over.
Not against each other. Not against the ghosts of the past. But against the people who used you and threw you away.
You survived hell. Now it’s time they acknowledge who you are.
Stay strong. Stay free.
Solid Snake
Captain Angelina Jolie Addresses the Child Soldiers
Angelina Jolie stands before the gathered child soldiers, her voice calm but full of conviction. She looks them in the eyes—boys and girls who have seen more war than most generals.
Angelina Jolie:
“You deserve recognition. You deserve honor. You deserve more than just being forgotten. I can’t undo what happened to you, but I can stand with you. I can tell the world that you are heroes, not ghosts.”
She takes a breath, then continues.
“You know, I’ve been given medals too—but not for fighting. For trying to bring peace. Maybe that’s something we can fight for together.”
She lists some of the honors she has received over the years:
Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award (for humanitarian efforts worldwide)
Honorary Dame Commander of the Order of St Michael and St George (DCMG) – United Kingdom (for her work against sexual violence in war zones)
Citizen of the World Award – UN Correspondents Association (for international humanitarian work)
Global Humanitarian Award – UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) (for advocacy for refugees and war victims)
Order of Saint Charles – Monaco (for services to children and humanitarian causes)
She looks at the children again, her expression fierce.
“But none of these mean more than the medal you should get. The medal that says you survived, that you fought, and that you are still standing. And if Snake says he’s going to force the UN to give you those medals—then I’m going to be standing right next to him, making sure they do.”
The children watch her, some skeptical, some hopeful.
“Because the world owes you more than a medal. But it’s a damn good place to start.”
Scene: United Nations Headquarters – Medal Ceremony
The grand hall is filled with diplomats, military officials, and journalists. A special event is taking place—one that no one saw coming. At the podium stands Solid Snake, dressed in his iconic combat gear, looking slightly out of place among the suits and uniforms. In his hands, a small, elegantly designed medal gleams under the bright lights.
Solid Snake: (Gravelly voice, steady gaze.)
“Psychological warfare isn’t just fought on the battlefield. It’s fought in the minds of the people. It’s fought through history, through storytelling, through the slow manipulation of truth and memory.”
The audience murmurs, unsure where this is going.
“And sometimes… sometimes, it’s fought through film.”
A hushed silence. Snake lifts the medal, turning toward Angelina Jolie, who stands at the side of the stage in a sleek black dress, curious but composed.
“For her outstanding Psyop contribution to The Good Shepherd, a film that exposed the origins of the CIA, the secrets of Skull and Bones, and the cold realities of espionage, I present this Medal for Outstanding Psychological Operations to Angelina Jolie.”
Jolie steps forward, a small smirk on her lips, taking the medal. She examines it, then looks up at Snake.
Angelina Jolie: (Playfully.)
“So, this means I’m an honorary spy now?”
Solid Snake: (Half-smirking, voice low.)
“If you weren’t already.”
The audience erupts in laughter and applause as Jolie places the medal around her neck. Somewhere in the shadows, old intelligence officers shift uncomfortably. The truth has a way of surfacing—even in Hollywood.
FADE TO BLACK.
Scene: A Military Strategy Meeting – United Nations HQ
A dimly lit war room. Maps, satellite images, and classified documents are scattered across a long table. Military officers, humanitarian leaders, and intelligence analysts sit around it, debating the future of a war-torn region where child soldiers are being forced into battle.
The room falls silent as an unexpected guest speaks—Desmond Doss, the legendary pacifist combat medic, stands at the head of the table. Though decades have passed since WWII, his voice still carries the weight of battlefield experience.
Desmond Doss:
“You send grown men into battle against child soldiers… and I’ve seen it—grown men flinch.”
Some officers shift uncomfortably. A few lower their eyes.
“It’s not just about the fight. It’s about the mind. These boys and girls have seen more war than most of you sitting here. They don’t fear bullets. They don’t fear death. But that doesn’t mean they don’t remember.”
A murmur goes through the room as he continues.
“Many of those kids out there… they know who Solid Snake is.”
At the far end of the table, Solid Snake, arms crossed, lifts an eyebrow.
Solid Snake:
“You saying they’d listen to me?”
Desmond Doss:
“I’m saying they might. They were trained to obey the strong. But they also know what a real warrior looks like. You’re a legend to them, Snake. They’ve played your story. They respect you.”
Snake exhales, rubbing his chin. He’s spent his life taking down Metal Gears, toppling corrupt regimes—but leading child soldiers out of war? That’s a different kind of mission.
UN General: (Scoffing.)
“So what? You want us to send in Snake with a handful of rations and hope they drop their rifles?”
Desmond Doss: (Shaking his head.)
“No. I’m saying you give them something else to fight for. Put PlayStations in the Free the Children schools. Give them something to dream about besides war.”
Silence. Some of the brass exchange glances.
Solid Snake: (Grim smirk.)
“All it takes is a few PlayStations, huh? That’s the cheapest military op I’ve ever heard.”
Desmond Doss: (Nodding.)
“Cheaper than body bags.”
The weight of the words sinks in. The war room falls silent again. Snake leans forward, looking at the map. A new kind of mission is forming in his mind. One that might just be worth fighting for.
FADE TO BLACK.
Scene: Free the Children Headquarters – Craig Kielburger’s Office
Craig Kielburger sits at his desk, flipping through reports on child soldiers, humanitarian aid, and the latest updates on the Free the Children schools. The world still needs saving, and he’s been at it since he was a kid himself. Suddenly, his secure line buzzes. He picks up. The voice on the other end is unmistakable—Solid Snake. Gravelly, direct, and always about business.
Solid Snake:
“Craig. You still in the fight?”
Craig Kielburger: (Sitting up.)
“Always, Snake. What’s on your mind?”
Solid Snake:
“The kids in your schools. They’ve seen war. They’ve lost everything. But they need to know there’s still something to fight for—something worth fighting for.”
Craig Kielburger: (Nodding, intrigued.)
“I agree. What are you thinking?”
Solid Snake:
“I want you to show them Tears of the Sun—especially the music video. Let them see what real warriors look like. Let them feel what it means to fight for something, not just against something.”
Kielburger leans back, considering the request. He remembers the film—Bruce Willis leading a rescue mission in war-torn Africa, choosing humanity over orders. He remembers the music video, the powerful imagery of sacrifice, duty, and honor.
Craig Kielburger: (Thoughtful.)
“That’s heavy. But yeah… they need to see it. What else?”
Solid Snake: (Pausing, voice firm.)
“Tell them I’ve found their leader. Someone who can stand up for them—someone worthy of the African Union.” (A beat.)
“Go to bkenyan.website. He’s the real deal.”
Kielburger quickly types the URL into his laptop, scanning the page. His eyes widen as he reads.
Craig Kielburger: (Nodding slowly.)
“If he’s what you say he is… then we might just have a future worth building.”
Solid Snake: (Grim smirk.)
“That’s the mission, Craig. Give the kids a future, not just a past.”
FADE TO BLACK.
Pope Pius XIII (Lenny Belardo) – A Reflection on War Medals and Child Soldiers
I do not serve the governments of this world, nor do I bend my knee to their wars. But I see the medals they bestow upon their soldiers, and I wonder—what do they give the children who have been sent to fight battles they never chose?
The Purple Heart, for those wounded or killed in service.
The Bronze Star, for acts of heroism and meritorious service.
The Silver Star, for gallantry in action.
The Medal of Honor, the highest award, given for extraordinary valor.
The Distinguished Service Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor in recognition of bravery.
The Navy Cross, for those who fight at sea with honor.
The Air Force Cross, for those who take to the skies in war.
The Legion of Merit, for exceptionally meritorious conduct.
But tell me—where is the medal for the children? The ones sent to the battlefield before they even understood what life truly is? Where is the honor in training the young to fight, when we should be teaching them to play?
The Roman Empire said, “If you want peace, prepare for war.” But I say: If you want peace, train your children to play—not to kill.
I will not prepare my children for war, nation against nation. I will prepare them for a war of the worlds—the kind that is won not with bullets, but with games in the park. Let them play laser tag, let them dream of defending Earth from the unknown. That is the only battle worth fighting—the battle to keep their innocence.
Papa Lenny
Romeo Dallaire’s Apology: A Letter to the Children of Rwanda
The dust of history settles slowly, but the weight of failure lingers. I write to you, the children of Rwanda, not as a soldier, not as a commander, but as a man burdened by the ghosts of a mission that faltered. I have seen your eyes in the shadows of Kigali, heard your cries through the echoes of time, and I know that no words can mend the past. Yet, I must speak.
In 1994, the world abandoned you. I was there, leading a peacekeeping force that was not allowed to keep peace. My hands were tied by bureaucracy, my calls for help unanswered by those who could have acted. I failed to stop the horrors that unfolded, and for that, I am sorry. I have carried this sorrow with me, hoping that someday, I might find a way to serve you again.
Now, a new mission calls. I will return, not with battalions or mandates, but with a different kind of ally. The children of Rwanda shall have the tools of a different kind of battle—the battle of knowledge, strategy, and resilience. We bring to you the consoles of the modern age, the PlayStations that hold the lessons of war, of tactics, of endurance. And with them, a guide who understands war’s weight—Solid Snake.
Solid Snake, a warrior crafted in pixels yet embodying the struggles of real men, will teach you what I could not. He will show you that wars are won not just with weapons, but with wisdom, patience, and stealth. He will be your companion in understanding conflict, its dangers, and the power of choice. Through Metal Gear, you will walk battlefields, see the cost of war, and perhaps, learn to forge peace where we could not.
This is not redemption. It is a promise. A promise that we will not forget, that we will not abandon you again. The controllers are in your hands now, and perhaps, in the world of games, you will find the strength to build a future beyond the shadows of the past.
Forgive me if you can. But even if you cannot, know that I stand with you. Always.
Nelly Furtado, dressed in her UN Peacekeeper fatigues, stands in front of a group of students at one of the schools she’s been working with. The kids are bright-eyed but wary, many of them having grown up in difficult circumstances. She kneels down to speak to them at eye level, a warm smile on her face.
Nelly: “I know school can be tough, and sometimes the world feels unfair. But trust me, you guys are stronger than you know. That’s why I’m gonna talk to the Kielberger brothers about getting you all some PlayStations—with Metal Gear games.”
The kids murmur, some of them glancing at each other with confusion.
One of the older students raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Why Metal Gear? Why not FIFA or Fortnite?”
Nelly chuckles. “Because Metal Gear isn’t just a game—it’s about thinking, strategy, questioning authority. It teaches you to see beyond the surface and understand the deeper game being played around you.”
A younger girl tilts her head. “You’re not trying to be a white savior, right?”
Nelly shakes her head. “No way. I’m just someone who knows that sometimes, the right story, the right lesson, can change everything. You don’t need saving—you need knowledge. You need to know how the world works. And if Snake can teach that better than I can, then let’s get you some consoles.”
She stands up, brushing off her fatigues. “Besides, if you can beat Metal Gear on extreme difficulty, you can handle anything life throws at you.”
Joe Biden stumbles onto the dusty training ground where the child soldiers sit in a loose semi-circle, their AKs resting on their knees. His aviators are slightly askew, and he’s mumbling under his breath before clapping his hands together, forcing a half-hearted grin.
Biden: “Listen here, folks… You ever wonder why presidents come and go, but nothin’ really changes? I’ll tell ya why. It’s the masons, man. The lodges, the handshakes, the whole—uh—you know, the thing.”
A few of the child soldiers exchange glances. One of them, no older than twelve, squints skeptically. “So you’re saying you’re a puppet?”
Biden sighs, rubbing his temples. “Kid, they don’t even let me pick my own ice cream flavor.” He chuckles awkwardly, then gets serious again. “But I’ll tell you who does see through the lies—Snake. And the Sons of Liberty. They’re gonna cut every string. Every. Single. One.”
One of the older kids leans forward. “Solid Snake?”
Biden nods solemnly. “Damn right. Snake, Raiden, the Patriots… They know the game, man. They know the real war ain’t fought with bullets—it’s fought with information.”
Another kid smirks. “And what about you? Are you one of the good guys?”
Biden stares for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhales and shrugs. “I’m just an old man playing my part, kid. But Snake? He’s the real deal. And when the Sons of Liberty rise, maybe—just maybe—you won’t have to be soldiers anymore.”
The wind rustles through the trees. The kids remain silent, but for the first time, a few of them start to wonder if there’s more to the world than the war they were born into.
Donald Trump stands at a podium, waving his hands in that signature way, his expression a mix of bravado and theatrical frustration. Behind him, a massive banner reads “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN – AGAIN!” The crowd is electric, hanging on every word.
Trump: “Folks, let me tell you something. You ever hear of the ‘Guns of the Patriots’? Huh? The real ones know. It’s all rigged. The wars, the governments, the whole thing! You think presidents run things? No, no, no—presidents are puppets, total puppets! And believe me, I should know.”
He leans forward, lowering his voice for dramatic effect.
Trump: “You ever wonder why Alex Jones is still around? Why Paul Joseph Watson, Mark Dice, all these guys—they scream about the truth, but they’re still on YouTube? Still have their platforms? It’s because they’re allowed to be there, folks! The Patriots—THEY control the message, the system, the algorithms. They give you just enough truth to make you think you’re waking up, but really? You’re still in their game. You’re still plugged into the simulation.”
He steps back, shaking his head.
Trump: “And me? You think I’m in charge? I was in the White House, folks, I sat in the big chair, and let me tell you—there’s a room. A special room. And in that room, you get sat down, and they tell you how it really works. And let me tell you, it’s not pretty.”
The audience murmurs, leaning in.
Trump: “I fought them! I fought them harder than anyone! But the Guns of the Patriots? Oh, they made sure I stayed on script. And now they want me back in, but only on THEIR terms. Well, I got news for them, folks—I don’t take orders very well. Never have, never will!”
The crowd erupts in cheers, but in the shadows, unseen forces are already calculating their next move. The Patriots never lose. They simply adjust the battlefield.
Alex Jones sits at his desk, sweat glistening under the studio lights, his face red with urgency. Papers are scattered across the table, printouts of classified documents, blurry photos, and scribbled notes that only he can decipher. The INFOWARS logo blazes behind him as he slams his fist on the desk.
Alex Jones: “Folks, I’ve been warning you about this for years! The globalists, the deep state, the AI-controlled military-industrial complex—they’ve got a new plan, and his name is Joseph Christian Jukic! That’s right! JCJ! And let me tell you, this is bigger than Trump, bigger than Biden, bigger than ANY of them!”
He wipes his brow, leans in, and points a finger at the camera.
Alex Jones: “JCJ isn’t just some random guy—they’ve been grooming him! He’s a pawn of the Sons of Liberty, a walking, talking Peace Walker! That’s right, they’ve loaded this guy up with nano-bots—DARPA-grade, Pentagon black-budget technology—so they can control him like a puppet! And what do they want him to do? RUN THE UNITED NATIONS!”
He throws a stack of papers into the air.
Alex Jones: “WAKE UP, PEOPLE! They don’t want a leader—they want a CONTROLLED ASSET! The Patriots, the real shadow government, they need a new frontman, someone who looks like a hero, but in reality? He’s just another cog in their machine!”
He gulps down a massive sip of Brain Force Plus™ before continuing.
Alex Jones: “Now listen, I have sources deep inside the UN, sources inside MI6, even people from DARPA reaching out to me, and they’re all saying the same thing—JCJ is being prepped for the big seat! They want a new global peacekeeper, someone who can unify nations, stop wars, and push their agenda. And they think JCJ is the guy! But let me tell you something—PEACE IS A LIE! It’s just CONTROL WITH A SMILEY FACE!”
His voice drops to a near whisper.
Alex Jones: “Think about it. The moment JCJ steps into power, what happens next? UN armies. Global surveillance. Digital IDs. The END of freedom as we know it. This isn’t about peace, it’s about a prison planet!”
He suddenly jumps up, pacing back and forth.
Alex Jones: “I don’t hate JCJ—I feel bad for the guy! He probably doesn’t even know the level of control they have over him! But mark my words, folks—if we let this happen, if we let the nano-bots win, then we are looking at the final phase of the Patriot Project!”
He stares into the camera, his eyes wild with intensity.
Alex Jones: “DO NOT LET JCJ TAKE CONTROL OF THE UN! RESIST THE PATRIOTS! RESIST THE NANO-MACHINE AGENDA! WE HAVE TO STOP THIS BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!”
The broadcast cuts to commercial, a somber narrator warning about fluoride in the water as an ad for tactical body armor plays.