If 622 looks backward to ideology, looks forward to greed. This number refers to the 270 reais (or the approximate value in any currency) that a sugar plantation owner might have earned from a season’s labor, but more broadly, it represents the average profit margin of a single successful pirate raid in the Caribbean as modeled by the game’s economy. More poetically, 270 is the number of ships Edward must plunder, the number of chests he must open, the number of “R” (real) units required to upgrade the Jackdaw from a sloop to a man-of-war-killing machine.

Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag is often celebrated as the series’ most successful anomaly. It is a pirate game that happens to feature the Assassin-Templar war, rather than the other way around. Yet beneath its shanties and broadside cannons lies a deep structural and philosophical framework, anchored by two numbers: 622 and 270 . These figures represent not dates or statistics, but the two opposing gravitational pulls on the protagonist, Edward Kenway: the ideological birth of the Assassin Order and the relentless pursuit of profit. Together, they chart his journey from a reckless privateer to a disillusioned, then enlightened, killer.

He sees the Assassins not as cultists but as the only people who have a plan to prevent the world from becoming a prison of greed. He formally joins the Brotherhood, not because he wants power, but because he realizes that “nothing is true” (the gold has no ultimate value) and “everything is permitted” (he must choose his own moral path). He takes the number 622—the ancient tradition of the Hidden Ones—and integrates it into his piratical soul. The game ends with Edward Kenway returning to England, not as a rich man, but as a father and a Master Assassin. He has traded the finite, hollow pursuit of 270 for the infinite, difficult responsibility of 622.

The genius of Black Flag is that it forces Edward to choose between these two numbers. The climax is not a naval battle but a funeral. When Mary Read dies in a Jamaican prison, Edward finally understands that all his 270 could not save her. The gold he piled in the Jackdaw’s hold is worthless against the Templar order’s systematic cruelty. In that moment of grief, he looks past 270 and sees 622.