Experience Points

Level 2

(This post is a follow-up to the first newsletter.)

Final Fantasy X was groundbreaking in the same way VII and VI were before it. The emotional story of Tidus and his fractured relationship with his father (but honestly, who in that game doesn’t have fractured relationship with their father) was filled with sorrow and regret. The graphics were incredible, the cutscenes were gorgeous, and in a series first, had voice acting. We were also treated with the first direct sequel when Final Fantasy X-2 released a few years later. Joyful and feminine, the game provided a cheerful respite from the somber tone of the first game, as well as an incredible implementation of the job system through the Dress sphere mechanism, allowing the all-female party members to change jobs on the fly in anime transformation-esque sequences.

Final Fantasy XI was my second MMO ever, after EverQuest Online Adventures. I initially imported a copy of Final Fantasy XI from Japan to my house, buying it off eBay and thinking it would run on my PC. I was 14 years old, and clearly did not think this through. The opening movie would play, but the game itself would never execute. It would be another two years until I would play it, when it was released for the PlayStation 2 in 2003. I am not much of an MMO player - a subscription fee is a great way to turn a hobby into a chore - but XI was an exception. The graphics were beautiful, the combat was a great marriage between the series' turn based combat and MMO mechanics, and the job system was expansive. The absolute best part of Final Fantasy XI was the music, with the themes of Gustaberg and Ronfaure forever echoing in my mind and Spotify account. The summer before my senior year in high school, I stayed behind with my mom who managed the restaurant while my siblings and dad went on a trip. I would bring my PS2 into the office in the back of their restaurant and boot up the game when I wasn't working. More than twenty years later, the game is still available, even if trips through the Valkurm Dunes aren't as lethally memorable for solo players.

This box represented the culmination of my two years of efforts to play this game. It came in the mail an hour before I had to leave to go to some nonsense Student Council retreat.

I spent my freshman year in college revisiting my favorite SNES RPGs on my PSP via emulation, most of the time in the back row of my freshman courses. This was two years before the iPhone, and nine years away from Square Enix releasing Final Fantasy VI for mobile devices. The following year, I was (again) impatient waiting for Final Fantasy XII, so I (again) obtained a Japanese copy and played that to bide my time until the official release months later. Unlike IX, however, XII's sprawling systems (combat, map layouts, gambit system) were too dense to handle without much knowledge of Japanese. The game's formal Western release was overshadowed by my Sophomore year in college and the release of the PlayStation 3. Final Fantasy XII takes bold positions on the series, and the critical appreciation for it's audaciousness has rightfully increased with time.

We were spoiled during that era of Final Fantasy, with games seemingly released every other year. As the release of mainline games slowed, my expectations for the series only grew. We certainly did not starve - a remake of Final Fantasy III for the Nintendo DS was the first Western release of the title, and my impetus for buying a DS back in 2006. PSP owners were treated to Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, an ARPG prequel starring Zack that just received a gorgeous remaster for consoles in 2022. When a remake of Final Fantasy IV was released for the Nintendo DS in 2008, I was in France and unable to get a copy... until my brother arrived two weeks later, packing a copy of the game in his luggage. I devoured the game, enjoying the voice acting but preferring the 16-bit era graphics. As the credits rolled on my tiny screen in Europe, I wondered about my erstwhile friend Dan, who introduced me to the series through this game more than a decade prior. We had graduated high school a few years ago, and long fallen out of touch years before that.

Final Fantasy XII has a whole mess of systems, in the best way possible.

Although the localization turnaround was shortened with each game, I simply could not wait for Final Fantasy XIII to be released in March 2010 - so this time, I imported a copy from Japan and downloaded a translated script of the game. It was much easier to play XIII than XII with a language barrier, given the emphasis on managing the party from a macro perspective. It certainly helped the abbreviations for the paradigm roles were in English, allowing me to switch roles on the fly mid-combat with incredible ease. I played through the game during Christmas break after my first semester in law school, distracting me from my fear to check for grades each day. Months later, I would listen to the soundtrack while studying for finals. Years later, I listen to it while working.

XIII was completely misunderstood at launch. If Square Enix ever demonstrates the courage to bring them to modern consoles (because accept it, the PlayStation 3 is now a retro console) the masses will come to their senses. I'm not sure what sort of reception Square Enix was expecting, because the marketing campaign in America was a misfire. You could not escape a commercial break on ESPN without being assaulted by a commercial for the game loudly set to the song "My Hands" by Leona Lewis. Your target audience is changing the channel. The sequels were strictly serviceable, especially the fun monster-catching gambit from XIII-2. I spent way too many hours during my last year of law school with my friend Buster, trying to secure the best Chocobo for combat. My enjoyment of each title varied, but I always had a Final Fantasy to look forward to, even if the development time for each mainline title was becoming laughably long.

Final Fantasy XIII is as beautiful as it is misunderstood

The development of Final Fantasy XV is infamous, but that is not what I remember about the game. I remember sitting at my desk as a baby attorney, watching the announcement trailer for Final Fantasy XV. It was epic, thunderous, and seemed to be the series' answer to claims the series had fallen off in the late 2000s and early 2010s. The game finally released in November 2016. It was messy, convoluted, and seemingly empty. I put 100 hours into it by the end of the year, though, because of the incredible bond between the characters. It told the story of exiled Prince Noctis on his quest to reclaim his throne. Accompanying him on this road trip were his friends and consort, the backstory of which is told in a transmedia project spanning a short form anime, a prequel side scrolling beat 'em up starring Noctis' father, and a feature length film showing the events leading up to the game.

The execution was admittedly rough, but the characterization of these four felt real, and their friendship felt as real as the ones I had formed in my own adulthood. This story felt like it was written for me as I entered my own adulthood: I was married, working as a professional, and getting ready to start my own family. I identified with Noctis and his bros because of my own experiences with my own brothers - blood and chosen - who stood by me during my own journey: in my wedding or serving as godparent to my child at a baptism. These aren't the milestones we contemplated when we met on the playground or at university, but they are the events we weathered together and bonds we share because of it. The ending of XV is truly poignant and had me reflecting on my own brotherly bonds, including the urge to look up Dan in 2016 to see where life had taken him. It was then I found out he passed away a few years prior. Thinking of his own passing, and my sudden rush of sadness at learning the news -- even if belated -- helped me further contemplate the themes of loss and friendship.

The exquisite heartache of FFXV

Now, on the 35th anniversary of Final Fantasy that I find myself preoccupied with age more than ever. I'm somehow nostalgic for Final Fantasy XV, a game that came out just seven years ago. I'm as old as the original Final Fantasy game. And Final Fantasy IV - the game that introduced me to one of my first friends in grade school and to the Final Fantasy series in general - just celebrated it's 31st anniversary. It seems unfair that we get to accumulate birthdays and anniversaries while others who were along for the ride with us just suddenly aren't.

The Final Fantasy series has punctuated my entire life. I can think of a game and remember when, where, and who I was at release date. Hell, the remake of Final Fantasy VII -- a game I've physically carried with me to every house I've ever lived in and on vacation during a cross-country trip to Florida in 1999 -- was released on the date my son was born. These games have been there, quite literally for me and with me during some of the most joyous moments of my life. But the series also also punctuated some of the painful ones, too: hearing the news of someone's cancer diagnosis, divorce, or the death of a friend. It's hard to think of what my life will look like when I - and Final Fantasy - hit our 70th anniversary. Hopefully we'll both be thriving.

Even if we're not, we will always have the memories of the journey. In a sense, Final Fantasy has been my own personal journey, through the series and through my life. Individual snapshots of our identities what was important to us, ingrained in our psyche that follow ten, twenty, and even thirty years later: of the games, of who we were, and of the friends we've made - and those we've lost - along the way. When you think of it that way, who wouldn't want to pick up that controller?