Roads to Freedom – A Defence of Final Fantasy XIII

Just as when Fenris’ over-sized maul comes into contact with Qunari skulls, Dragon Age II is dividing quite a few opinions. Like Mass Effect 2, this sequel has overhauled and refined the gameplay of the original to an impressive degree, making a promising game with a great story into something extra special. But if there’s one point on which even the most praiseworthy reviews become slightly uncertain it is the fact that the game eschews the epic scope of its predecessor to set its story entirely within the grey, claustrophobic walls of one city: Kirkwall. Given how much emphasis is normally placed on exploring a massive world map in the RPG genre it’s only natural that this is going to create some reservations, but in a way this is an incredibly daring approach from a storytelling perspective that flies firmly in the face of expectation and convention, meanwhile creating a more focused and personal story that more appropriately fits this tale of political intrigue.

Another recent game that thwarts convention, daringly bending setting and story structure to its message, is Final Fantasy XIII (not such a leap of comparison when you consider how influenced Dragon Age is by Final Fantasy XII’s gambit system). Now there has been a lot of Final Fantasy XIII hating going on since its highly anticipated release, not least here on Ready Up (it was named the biggest letdown of 2010) and even when I worked briefly as a play tester at Square Enix, where most of the office were testing FFXIII, I didn’t speak to one person who had anything good to say about it. Ironically for a series that’s unjustifiably criticised for not taking risks from the outside, it seems this game has been shunned by people who haven’t had their expectations met (I can’t help but feel there is also an overly nostalgic fixation on the undoubtedly excellent Final Fantasy VII that gets in the way when each new Final Fantasy appears). In fact, the risks that Final Fantasy XIII takes with its structure is one of the finest examples of a marriage between form and content in gaming, something that in any other art form would be considered ingenious (consider the many examples of celebrated modern novels that utilise unconventional and difficult structures). Allow me to explore that statement more closely.

Despite its fantastical settings, thematically the Final Fantasy series has always dealt with important social issues – FF7 was an incredible environmental parable and a denunciation of corporate greed, whilst FFX was a powerful critique on the oppressive nature of organised religion – and Final Fantasy XIII continues this tradition by focusing on cultural/racial prejudice, but goes one step further by actually subjecting the player to the same prejudices faced by the protagonists through the game’s structure. When Snow, Lightning and the others are turned into L’Cie in the game’s dramatic opening, they become something hated and feared by their own people on Cocoon, whose ignorant fear of the unknown (in this case magic, standing in for religion) has been used by a manipulative ruling elite to maintain the social order.

The protagonist’s escape from Cocoon to Pulse dominates the first half of the game, and is routinely criticised for being made up entirely of linear paths with no towns or side quests to break the pace. Although unconventional this makes absolute narrative sense. You are being cast in the shoes of a pariah, a fugitive from a society hell bent on hunting you down. So, no, popping into the local shop to buy a phoenix down and see if you can help the proprietor find his lost puppy is not a good idea! Furthermore in the process of being turned into a L’Cie the protagonists have been given a Focus, a quest that they have to fulfil to avoid being transformed into a monster. This grim and inescapable destiny is expressed within the game’s linear structure, which brilliantly transmits a palpable sense of fatalism to the player.

However what’s truly fascinating about the story is how the protagonists deal with their destiny in different ways (revenge, denial, submission); the tensions between the characters, such as Hope’s misguided hatred for Snow, creating considerable drama, even where the games setting does not. Rather uniquely instead of building a party as the game progresses, as is the case with most RPGs including Dragon Age, the game begins with a party ideologically divided, and concerns itself with the way each overcomes their problems to come together and empower themselves. Meanwhile few transitions between environments have been as cinematic and effecting in a game as your arrival in Pulse, an ample reward for slogging down corridors for the last 30 hours, but most importantly this change of scene psychologically reflects the characters’ new found hope and resolve. Far from being the hell on earth the inhabitants of Cocoon imagine, Pulse’s natural beauty contrasts with Cocoon’s claustrophobic setting and small mindedness.

Perhaps Dragon Age II is forgiven its linearity more easily than Final Fantasy XIII because of cultural familiarity; as much as I love it and Bioware, it’s undoubtedly one of the poster boys (or girls depending on your choices) for the western RPG. Meanwhile I remain hopeful that Final Fantasy XIII will one day be appreciated as the daring and innovative masterpiece it is and one of the most important games of 2010.