There’s a long-held wisdom about writing: Show, Don’t Tell. It’s a reliable guideline for all who wish to create and share a story, which advises a writer not to simply Tell an audience, whether through narration or characters’ exposition, something about a character or an event, but rather to create actions, circumstances, and dialogue that display this characteristic the writer wishes known to the audience, and allow the audience to experience it firsthand. Definitely a sensible and worthy method of storytelling, to be sure, because empirical evidence is just generally more compelling than hearsay--the phrase “I’ll believe it when I see it” exists for a reason. Roseportal Games, as an example, can Tell me as much as they like that Aerin of The Princess’ Heart undergoes personal growth during the game’s events and is at the game's end a better, more mature romantic partner than she was at its beginning, but they’ve Shown me not a single piece of evidence to back that up, so I don’t buy it for a moment.
With that said, I think it’s a common mistake that many people believe that Show, Don’t Tell is the final word on quality storytelling. It’s a great and a safe method, absolutely, but not the be-all, end-all of how to write well.
First of all, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: If you know what you’re doing, the Tell method actually can work very well. Isaac Asimov used a lot of Telling in his works, especially his famous Foundation series, and pretty much everything he wrote that I’ve come across is fantastic. He knew how and when to rely on his own narration to get the job done, what situations it would work for--the Foundation stories, for example, involve not a small theme of historical documentation, for which the Tell style adds authenticity, since we associate such an approach with things like history textbooks and biographies and whatnot. To bring it back to RPGs, I would say that a fair portion of the narration of Planescape: Torment, and its spiritual successor, Torment: Tides of Numenera, could be considered as Telling more than Showing--and PT and TToN have definitely got the masterful writing talents on staff to make such scenes as brilliant and captivating as all the rest.
More importantly, however, is my belief that Show, while more desirable in general than Tell, is still only a part of the ideal way of writing. In my opinion, you’re at your best when the idea you want to convey is Shown and Told. Yes, you can be Told that some character is amazing and wonderful and/or has undergone incredible personal changes for the better, but the sentiment is meaningless because you’re not able to observe evidence of it. However, you can also be Shown the character’s greatness and how dynamic they are, but not fully appreciate these facts because the lack of a Telling element hasn’t framed these qualities for all they’re worth.
Since I used a non-RPG example initially a moment ago, let’s start the same way with this. You can see an example of what I mean by a Show-and-Tell method in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, specifically with the character of protagonist George Bailey. The key, core element of the film around which every part of its plot, message, and cast revolve is the outstanding virtue of George as a man, and the irreplaceable value he has to his friends, family, and community as a whole. Now, the movie does an excellent job in establishing the greatness of George Bailey through Showing the audience many, many examples of his selfless and kind nature throughout his lifetime, allowing us to see, from the perspective of an observing angel, his past. And for that matter, we also see examples of that generous spirit once the movie catches up to the present: Clarence’s entire plan to keep George from committing suicide revolves around the knowledge that George will put his own despair on hold to save another person, and a little later, George feels compelled, even while still distraught over his own terrible circumstances, to express to Clarence that the latter worries George, and to ask about whether Clarence’s own situation is stable. There’s more than enough Show in It’s a Wonderful Life for us to adequately understand George Bailey’s saintlike qualities.
Yet at the same time, we’d be missing out if the movie were not also Telling us what a great guy George is, too. The fact that we hear angels themselves speak highly of George Bailey helps to confirm what we can ourselves see, and also brings to light which specific merits of George’s are most relevant to our understanding of him and the film as a whole. Furthermore, hearing the prayers at the movie’s beginning from those who know George, prayers which Tell the audience that this (as of this moment) unknown character is a good person, is not just a useful framing device for our perceptions of what we will be Shown, but emphasize and sell 1 of the most important aspects of George’s character, the quality around which Clarence’s plan to help him revolves: his invaluable and wonderful impact upon the lives of all those in Bedford Falls. It’s a confirmation and emphasis that could only go so far with Showing alone. And the movie’s filled with such examples--in another, we can see an individual instance of the Bailey Building and Loan’s positive impact on the community as we see the celebration of Mr. Martini moving into his new home, but that example of Show means much, much more with the context of the audience having been Told by Peter Bailey why this is especially important in a town otherwise run by Mr. Potter, and having also been indirectly Told by George during his angry speech to Potter about the people of the town deserving a decent living situation regardless of their economic situation. What we can be Shown is a single occurrence, what we can be Told is the significance of that occurrence and the great number of times it has happened. There are many reasons why It’s a Wonderful Life is a truly excellent movie, but part of it is that it combines Showing and Telling perfectly to keep every major cog in its narrative machine turning smoothly.
Now, to bring things back to RPGs, think of Commander Shepard from the Mass Effect trilogy.* I think most people would agree that he/she is a pretty awesome hero, and while going through ME, the player gets a personal sense of confidence and capability that I believe few other game heroes can create. I certainly never have felt anywhere near as cool and can-do when playing as any Link from a Legend of Zelda game, for example, nor as inspiring and leaderly as Dragon Age 1’s Grey Warden, and so on. And sure, a lot of that is due to the fact that the Mass Effect series Shows us, time and time again, that Shepard has the brains, the physical prowess, and most importantly, that intangible quality of guts that can carry him/her to victory against any odds. But a huge part of why Shepard stands out as such an iconic action hero isn’t just the fact that we can see him/her acting as such--we can see that stuff in lots of significantly less memorable main characters. It’s also the fact that all along the way, from the very start of the series, other characters frequently point to Shepard as an incredible soldier and leader who can get seemingly impossible shit done. From Anderson’s paternal confidence and encouragement, to The Illusive Man outright telling Shepard that he spent incalculable sums of money to bring Shepard back to life, virtually unaltered, because he/she represents a unique human quality of accomplishment, to Shepard’s closest companions expressing time and again their faith in him/her to pull them through any situation, to even NPCs like the consort Sha'ira showing an almost reverence for him/her...yes, all this Telling would be empty if we weren’t Shown over and over that it’s confidence well-placed, but at the same time, all that Showing wouldn’t be nearly as empowering to Shepard as a hero without the Telling calling appropriate attention to it. Shepard stands out as a hero thanks to a Show-and-Tell process.
This approach is also good as a way of emphasizing the development of a character, too, not just their unchanging qualities (George Bailey and Commander Shepard, while arguably not static characters, nonetheless are most significant for qualities that don’t really change too terribly much overall). Take the relationship between Tear and Natalia in Tales of the Abyss. Early in the game, soon after Natalia has filled the last empty party member slot, it’s clearly shown from their interactions that Natalia and Tear don’t really get along very well; they just rub each other the wrong way. As time goes on, this gradually changes, with Tear and Natalia interacting more and more amiably as they assist one another on the game’s journey, and find neutral or positive ground upon which to communicate in the form of discussions with their mutual companions. It’s a natural alteration of their relationship, which happens at an organic pace, and as such, even though it’s being Shown to the player the entire time it’s happening, it doesn’t usually stand out--eventually Natalia and Tear are on good terms, and it’s happened smoothly enough that it seems like the normal state of affairs to the audience. I think that it’s only late in the game, during a certain skit, that the magnitude of their friendship’s journey is really apparent. At 1 point, as they converse, they look back at what they initially thought of each other, and Natalia reflects that she disliked Tear at first. When Tear prompts her with the question of what Natalia thinks now, Natalia warmly responds that Tear has become very dear to her. It’s a heartfelt moment, but it’s also an interesting one, because this changed relationship is one that wouldn’t have even really occurred to me to pay attention to if I’d only been Shown it--as I said, it’s gradual and natural enough a process that Natalia’s and Tear’s becoming trusted friends is just something you go along with automatically. It’s only once the game Tells us what a difference has come about that we realize the significance of their relationship’s growth, and properly appreciate the warm fuzzies of a sincere friendship between them. The Tell has given us a chance to appreciate the Show to a degree we would have otherwise missed out on.
The old adage isn’t a bad one: if you have to choose between Showing and Telling, then go with Showing, because by itself, Telling is much less likely to get the job done, unless you have a specific style or circumstance that particularly connects to Telling. But I do think that Show, Don’t Tell is a policy that will ultimately limit a truly talented writer if followed too stringently. The best results are going to come from a story that knows how to use the process of Telling to showcase and enhance the strength of what is Shown.
* Yes, trilogy. Andromeda does not count as Mass Effect.
Sunday, June 28, 2020
Thursday, June 18, 2020
Tales of Berseria's Final Battle Cutscene
There’s a lot to say about Tales of Berseria that’s positive. It’s an engrossing, terrific RPG with a fresh take on a bread-and-butter RPG story concept, starring a protagonist who is absolutely excellent in both her personality depth and her character development, a striking and perfectly reflective antagonist to her, and a likable, strongly-characterized supporting cast whose hundreds of interactions are unfailingly engaging. It’s got great plot twists, it knows when to be heavy and when to pour on the charming humor, it makes you think, it has so much to say about the human condition and about finding and embracing one’s personal truths and individuality...and it even manages to do all this, and tie itself with masterful care and startling frequency to its predecessor, Tales of Zestiria, making the mediocre latter seem better simply by association. Tales of Berseria is a magnificent RPG for so, so many reasons.
And I have no interest in talking about any of them today.
Because my ranting whims are fickle and utterly ineffable, what we’re here today to laud about ToB is instead just a minor little moment of its epic span, a pleasant quirk that doesn’t really make a whole lot of difference overall, but which I still liked and took note of. In my defense, you can find people to wax adoration of the important stuff about the game in all sorts of places. But for a dissertation on tiny details which would otherwise go completely unnoticed? That’s my specialty, baby.
So, to whit: I think that the battle cutscene at the end Tales of Berseria, as the good guys* engage in combat with Artorius and Innominat, is really awesome, and more than that, refreshing, as final battle cutscenes go.
The scene is a pretty simple, straightforward one overall: Velvet and her team of misfits approach Artorius and Innominat. Some of your standard final confrontation dialogue is exchanged,** then the two sides begin fighting for a bit in cutscene form, before eventually transitioning into the actual battle system.
But simple as it is, it’s really quite awesome. First of all, on the basic level, it’s a really cool fight. The action flows quickly but intelligibly, and is varied enough that the party members’ diverse fighting talents are shown off well; you get to see swordplay, magic, fisticuffs, spear...play? What’s the word for spear-fighting? Well, anyway, you get to see the whole gamut of their talents at work, and it’s cool.
I also appreciate it for the fact that this fight cinematic even exists to begin with. Most of these final boss confrontations only amount to the party approaching the ultimate villain and exchanging their last-battle speeches, then jumping immediately into the battle screen. You don’t usually get to see any narrative representation of the fight itself, save perhaps a few lines delivered here and there during the fight. Cinematically, final confrontations in most RPGs aren’t significantly different, once they get started, from any given random encounter. The fact that Tales of Berseria was willing to put some extra flash into Velvet’s final battle with Artorius by letting a fully-choreographed, exciting fight scene play out as the first part of the battle is an example of Namco’s willingness to go all in on the quality of this title.
That’s not to say that this sort of thing is never done, of course. Tales of Berseria didn’t invent the practice of amping up the idea of a final battle by actually having, well, battle. But in the already rare case that you get some unique visual action in an RPG’s final confrontation, it’s uncommon for it to be this good. I mean, remember Wild Arms 5’s showdown with its major villain, Volsung? Yeah, you got a pre-battle cutscene with action...but that action was Dean riding that stupid fucking monowheel down a hallway avoiding some lasers, and then trying to use his vehicle as a club against Volsung. Yes, after that point, there was like 30 seconds of some fighting between them that was actually cool, but it was completely overshadowed by the sheer, mind-boggling anime-brand camp of what had come before it. And also by the stupidity of Dean just holding his gun in Volsung’s face for like 10 seconds straight without pulling the goddamn trigger. Point is, even when a game treats the player to some final battle action, it’s rarely as good as Tales of Berseria’s is.
More than the fact that it’s just a high-quality fight scene as a whole, though, it is so, so, so refreshing to see a major confrontation in cutscene format that actually uses the entire party in the battle. Voyeuristic Paralysis Syndrome is an RPG pandemic, and if this were a more typical, lazier RPG, this scene would just be of Velvet and maybe Laphicet stepping forward to do all the fighting themselves while the rest of the party idles about like they’re having a fucking picnic. That’s sure as hell how it goes down over and over again in Xenosaga 3, and a myriad of other RPGs. But instead, the characters decide to take this culmination of a months-long journey to decide the fate of humanity seriously, and actually all join in the fight! They’re willing to prioritize the victory of their ideals over the possible ego of their leader, and not just leave the most important battle in all history up to just a single representative. Miracle of miracles, the party members of Tales of Berseria treat this conflict with enough gravity to pool all their combat resources together--it’s almost as if they have a desire to win.
What a sorry state RPG storytelling is in that I can actually be impressed by an RPG’s willingness to treat its major characters as more than just notaries to its grand conflict. Nonetheless, that’s how things are, and so I think it’s worth giving Bandai-Namco some kudos for making a final battle cutscene that is of exciting high quality, and which possesses enough basic intelligence to involve all parties present within it. Really wish we could see this sort of narrative flare and common sense more often.
* I mean, sort of. They’re also the villains. Tales of Berseria is fun like that.
** Standard in the sense that it is, as you expect, a reaffirmation that each side is firmly set in their beliefs, and are ready to throw down to the death over it. Don’t get me wrong, though, the quality of what’s actually said is, as with everything in ToB, quite above average.
And I have no interest in talking about any of them today.
Because my ranting whims are fickle and utterly ineffable, what we’re here today to laud about ToB is instead just a minor little moment of its epic span, a pleasant quirk that doesn’t really make a whole lot of difference overall, but which I still liked and took note of. In my defense, you can find people to wax adoration of the important stuff about the game in all sorts of places. But for a dissertation on tiny details which would otherwise go completely unnoticed? That’s my specialty, baby.
So, to whit: I think that the battle cutscene at the end Tales of Berseria, as the good guys* engage in combat with Artorius and Innominat, is really awesome, and more than that, refreshing, as final battle cutscenes go.
The scene is a pretty simple, straightforward one overall: Velvet and her team of misfits approach Artorius and Innominat. Some of your standard final confrontation dialogue is exchanged,** then the two sides begin fighting for a bit in cutscene form, before eventually transitioning into the actual battle system.
But simple as it is, it’s really quite awesome. First of all, on the basic level, it’s a really cool fight. The action flows quickly but intelligibly, and is varied enough that the party members’ diverse fighting talents are shown off well; you get to see swordplay, magic, fisticuffs, spear...play? What’s the word for spear-fighting? Well, anyway, you get to see the whole gamut of their talents at work, and it’s cool.
I also appreciate it for the fact that this fight cinematic even exists to begin with. Most of these final boss confrontations only amount to the party approaching the ultimate villain and exchanging their last-battle speeches, then jumping immediately into the battle screen. You don’t usually get to see any narrative representation of the fight itself, save perhaps a few lines delivered here and there during the fight. Cinematically, final confrontations in most RPGs aren’t significantly different, once they get started, from any given random encounter. The fact that Tales of Berseria was willing to put some extra flash into Velvet’s final battle with Artorius by letting a fully-choreographed, exciting fight scene play out as the first part of the battle is an example of Namco’s willingness to go all in on the quality of this title.
That’s not to say that this sort of thing is never done, of course. Tales of Berseria didn’t invent the practice of amping up the idea of a final battle by actually having, well, battle. But in the already rare case that you get some unique visual action in an RPG’s final confrontation, it’s uncommon for it to be this good. I mean, remember Wild Arms 5’s showdown with its major villain, Volsung? Yeah, you got a pre-battle cutscene with action...but that action was Dean riding that stupid fucking monowheel down a hallway avoiding some lasers, and then trying to use his vehicle as a club against Volsung. Yes, after that point, there was like 30 seconds of some fighting between them that was actually cool, but it was completely overshadowed by the sheer, mind-boggling anime-brand camp of what had come before it. And also by the stupidity of Dean just holding his gun in Volsung’s face for like 10 seconds straight without pulling the goddamn trigger. Point is, even when a game treats the player to some final battle action, it’s rarely as good as Tales of Berseria’s is.
More than the fact that it’s just a high-quality fight scene as a whole, though, it is so, so, so refreshing to see a major confrontation in cutscene format that actually uses the entire party in the battle. Voyeuristic Paralysis Syndrome is an RPG pandemic, and if this were a more typical, lazier RPG, this scene would just be of Velvet and maybe Laphicet stepping forward to do all the fighting themselves while the rest of the party idles about like they’re having a fucking picnic. That’s sure as hell how it goes down over and over again in Xenosaga 3, and a myriad of other RPGs. But instead, the characters decide to take this culmination of a months-long journey to decide the fate of humanity seriously, and actually all join in the fight! They’re willing to prioritize the victory of their ideals over the possible ego of their leader, and not just leave the most important battle in all history up to just a single representative. Miracle of miracles, the party members of Tales of Berseria treat this conflict with enough gravity to pool all their combat resources together--it’s almost as if they have a desire to win.
What a sorry state RPG storytelling is in that I can actually be impressed by an RPG’s willingness to treat its major characters as more than just notaries to its grand conflict. Nonetheless, that’s how things are, and so I think it’s worth giving Bandai-Namco some kudos for making a final battle cutscene that is of exciting high quality, and which possesses enough basic intelligence to involve all parties present within it. Really wish we could see this sort of narrative flare and common sense more often.
* I mean, sort of. They’re also the villains. Tales of Berseria is fun like that.
** Standard in the sense that it is, as you expect, a reaffirmation that each side is firmly set in their beliefs, and are ready to throw down to the death over it. Don’t get me wrong, though, the quality of what’s actually said is, as with everything in ToB, quite above average.
Monday, June 8, 2020
The Banner Saga
Who's got 2 thumbs and just finished another Indie RPG? This Guy.
Who may or may not have 2 thumbs and is about to hear This Guy recommend it in a rant? You Guy.
So, The Banner Saga is a trilogy of strategy RPGs which basically comprise a single, ongoing story, less 3 games than it is a a single tale split into 3 parts, separated at good intermission spots. While I didn’t play them all at once, I did experience them roughly close together, which was a great benefit of having waited to get started on the series--I daresay it was probably quite difficult for contemporary fans to wait for each installment to come out, because it’s a pretty compelling tale overall. The saga has several earthly draws to it, such as numerous rather inventive characteristics to its battle system, and an art and animation style very much in the spirit of the works of Don Bluth, Ralph Bakshi, and Eyvind Earl (in fact, 1 of the most important characters in The Banner Saga is named Eyvind in homage to Mr. Earl). To me, however, such qualities are nice extras, but not capable of swaying my opinion on whether an RPG is good or bad. For me, that’s a determination dependent entirely on its story, its characters, its theme and purpose...all the juicy food-for-thought stuff.
And happily, The Banner Saga is solid on those points. It’s got a good plot (if admittedly one that feels no particular rush to tell itself), one that’s very much its own as a story more of survival than of heroism for most of its cast, and it’s quite creative in both its premise and its execution. I certainly can’t think of another RPG like it, myself. It’s also got a solid cast, whose main characters are often compelling and developed well. They’re not all winners, mind you--I never had much interest in the Ravens and found even less appeal in their leader Bolverk, despite the games seeming to want me to--but it’s a good spread of personalities overall, be they static or dynamic. I especially like the fact that minor party members (there’s many characters who can be recruited) will occasionally, unexpectedly have a part to play or a conversation to witness here and there during the games’ course, sometimes even a very significant one. Considering how many variables there are to whether they were able to be recruited, whether they might have been killed or had cause to leave the party permanently, and so on, it’s pretty neat that these tiny, mostly-overlooked characters can come out of nowhere and do or say something major. Such instances exemplify just how much the choices you make throughout the course of The Banner Saga have consequences, whether for good or ill--if you’re the type of RPG player who wants to feel the weight and significance of every decision a game offers you, you’ll find very few RPGs more suited to your taste than The Banner Saga.
In addition to being a concretely good RPG series overall, The Banner Saga also has 2 elements in which it truly shines. The first is its basis in Norse mythology. Now, The Banner Saga certainly isn’t the first Norse-themed RPG out there--the famous Valkyrie Profile 1, and its successors, base themselves around the pantheon and general religious beliefs of Norse mythology. Odin, Valkyries, Freya, Midgard and Yggdrasil and all that jazz, it’s all there.
...At least, it all was there, until SquareEnix decided to clumsily, mindlessly retcon half of it at the end of Valkyrie Profile 2, because they’re fucking morons.
Nonetheless, The Banner Saga fulfills a very different, and perhaps more important function in using a Norse foundation. All the jazz that Valkyrie Profile utilizes with the gods and the afterlife and so on, that’s all fine and fun stuff, but it’s the...flashy part of Norse mythology, if that makes any sense. It’s the go-to stuff that everyone always uses if they’re looking to include Viking stuff in their product, the popular (admittedly with good reason) part of the beliefs and stories of Norse mythology that we’re all used to. I mean, it’s such an easy, accessible crowd-pleaser that Marvel Comics just basically stole 1 of the mythology’s leading gods and said “Yeah, he’s totally our guy now.” The Banner Saga, on the other hand, is more concerned with the...perhaps the best way to describe it is the down-to-Midgard parts of Norse mythology. Rather than revel in the lofty rainbow bridges and deities drinking mead in golden halls and all that flashy junk, The Banner Saga builds itself upon the grit and grime of giants, hard-fought battles, beings of iron clashing against bearded berserkers bearing basic axes and bulky bulwarks of wood. It’s inspired by and an homage to Norse mythology in a way that a game like Valkyrie Profile, which for all its laudable qualities is still in many ways a distinct JRPG simply adopting the trappings of a western culture for its own purposes, can’t be. And more than that, The Banner Saga is also, in its style and approach, based in Norse culture as much as in Norse mythology, and in the modern mythology of vikings that we’ve created about what that culture was like.
Basically what I'm saying is that if you are in any way big on Norse mythology and the whole viking thing, The Banner Saga will give you tingly feelings in your pants, and probably to a way greater degree than most other games on the subject can.
The other quality of The Banner Saga that really stands out to me is its long and realistic portrayal of a fantasy end-of-world scenario. Sure, worlds on the brink of destruction are fairly frequent in RPGs, without a doubt. I’d say at least 4 out of 5 times, the stakes of any given RPG you play are going to be of a saving-the-world variety, or possibly even higher. But it’s fairly rare that you get to really see the gravity of a world in its stages of collapse, isn’t it? Most of the time, all you’re gonna get on this matter are perhaps a few scenes of the sky darkening, or an earthquake or two, during the last moments of the game, which are really only there to prompt some NPCs to join hands and sing Kumbaya so that this can (somehow) empower the heroes during their final battle. On the rare occasion that an RPG draws out its world-ending circumstances to any degree, you still don’t usually get a very strong feel for them, or the desperation of the global population over them. Remember in Final Fantasy 5, when the elements that govern the world’s natural forces begin to wane and die, creating a world of stagnant air, machines that can’t function because fire can’t power them any longer, and so on and so forth? That is some terrifying, Armageddon-level shit right there, and yet the game just kind of presents it in a tone like it’s an inconvenience to the world more than anything else, obviously a problem in need of a solution but only one for the heroes to worry about in the backs of their minds. There’s no real focus on the reaction to this world-ending loss of elemental function, nothing in NPCs’ dialogue that comes across as more than a moderate worry about what is a cataclysm!
The Banner Saga, on the other hand, makes you feel every despairing, desperate step of the world’s slide into destruction. You’re not some flashy handful of colorful destined heroes soaring above the people’s problems on an airship. The characters you follow are refugees, trekking across lands embroiled in war and panic as armies of steel-clad monsters from the inner earth pour by the millions across unprepared lands and communities, a titanic serpent born to swallow the world splits mountains and poisons the oceans, and an all-consuming, corruptive darkness continues to spread unabated. The circumstances for your heroes are desperate from the beginning and only become worse with every stop on their journey to escape their world’s end. Panic, hatred, paranoia, mistrust, and worst of all, ambition: these are the everyday facts of the people of an actively disintegrating world, and The Banner Saga displays them all in harsh reality as the caravan of its heroes faces 1 catastrophe after another, and marches more and more desperately in an attempt to survive and find a safe haven whose existence becomes more doubtful with each step taken.
Not to say that The Banner Saga’s an ugly or depressing series, or anything like that. It doesn’t pull punches with showing the end of the world and the plight of a community of refugees, but there’s always just enough bits and pieces of determination, enough opportunities for its main characters to show heroism, generosity, and solidarity, enough small victories even as the war of attrition is slowly lost, to keep you going along without falling into the same despair as the characters themselves repeatedly must fight against. The Banner Saga isn’t an inspiring, good-feelings adventure, but it’s not a downer RPG, either. It just is what it is--and that’s a pretty cool story that lets you feel the long struggle with an apocalypse that no other RPG I can immediately think of can provide. The closest you can get normally is the retrospective viewpoint of a good post-apocalyptic setting, like Fallout, Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon, or Chrono Trigger’s 2300 AD. The Banner Saga’s the first time I’ve seen an in-depth look at humanity’s fall as it happens in an RPG.
And yeah, that’s about it. The 3 installments of The Banner Saga are a solid buy, in my opinion, if you’re looking for a good story and characters in general, particularly if you’re interested in making some choices that’ll have consequences, both immediate and far-reaching. But where it really shines, what I’d most recommend it for, is its great and dedicated use of Norse mythology and culture for its setting and style, and its portrayal of a world’s end from the perspective of everyday men, women, and heroes trying to survive it, 1 catastrophe at a time. If any of that sounds cool to you, then I recommend you check out The Banner Saga.
Who may or may not have 2 thumbs and is about to hear This Guy recommend it in a rant? You Guy.
So, The Banner Saga is a trilogy of strategy RPGs which basically comprise a single, ongoing story, less 3 games than it is a a single tale split into 3 parts, separated at good intermission spots. While I didn’t play them all at once, I did experience them roughly close together, which was a great benefit of having waited to get started on the series--I daresay it was probably quite difficult for contemporary fans to wait for each installment to come out, because it’s a pretty compelling tale overall. The saga has several earthly draws to it, such as numerous rather inventive characteristics to its battle system, and an art and animation style very much in the spirit of the works of Don Bluth, Ralph Bakshi, and Eyvind Earl (in fact, 1 of the most important characters in The Banner Saga is named Eyvind in homage to Mr. Earl). To me, however, such qualities are nice extras, but not capable of swaying my opinion on whether an RPG is good or bad. For me, that’s a determination dependent entirely on its story, its characters, its theme and purpose...all the juicy food-for-thought stuff.
And happily, The Banner Saga is solid on those points. It’s got a good plot (if admittedly one that feels no particular rush to tell itself), one that’s very much its own as a story more of survival than of heroism for most of its cast, and it’s quite creative in both its premise and its execution. I certainly can’t think of another RPG like it, myself. It’s also got a solid cast, whose main characters are often compelling and developed well. They’re not all winners, mind you--I never had much interest in the Ravens and found even less appeal in their leader Bolverk, despite the games seeming to want me to--but it’s a good spread of personalities overall, be they static or dynamic. I especially like the fact that minor party members (there’s many characters who can be recruited) will occasionally, unexpectedly have a part to play or a conversation to witness here and there during the games’ course, sometimes even a very significant one. Considering how many variables there are to whether they were able to be recruited, whether they might have been killed or had cause to leave the party permanently, and so on, it’s pretty neat that these tiny, mostly-overlooked characters can come out of nowhere and do or say something major. Such instances exemplify just how much the choices you make throughout the course of The Banner Saga have consequences, whether for good or ill--if you’re the type of RPG player who wants to feel the weight and significance of every decision a game offers you, you’ll find very few RPGs more suited to your taste than The Banner Saga.
In addition to being a concretely good RPG series overall, The Banner Saga also has 2 elements in which it truly shines. The first is its basis in Norse mythology. Now, The Banner Saga certainly isn’t the first Norse-themed RPG out there--the famous Valkyrie Profile 1, and its successors, base themselves around the pantheon and general religious beliefs of Norse mythology. Odin, Valkyries, Freya, Midgard and Yggdrasil and all that jazz, it’s all there.
...At least, it all was there, until SquareEnix decided to clumsily, mindlessly retcon half of it at the end of Valkyrie Profile 2, because they’re fucking morons.
Nonetheless, The Banner Saga fulfills a very different, and perhaps more important function in using a Norse foundation. All the jazz that Valkyrie Profile utilizes with the gods and the afterlife and so on, that’s all fine and fun stuff, but it’s the...flashy part of Norse mythology, if that makes any sense. It’s the go-to stuff that everyone always uses if they’re looking to include Viking stuff in their product, the popular (admittedly with good reason) part of the beliefs and stories of Norse mythology that we’re all used to. I mean, it’s such an easy, accessible crowd-pleaser that Marvel Comics just basically stole 1 of the mythology’s leading gods and said “Yeah, he’s totally our guy now.” The Banner Saga, on the other hand, is more concerned with the...perhaps the best way to describe it is the down-to-Midgard parts of Norse mythology. Rather than revel in the lofty rainbow bridges and deities drinking mead in golden halls and all that flashy junk, The Banner Saga builds itself upon the grit and grime of giants, hard-fought battles, beings of iron clashing against bearded berserkers bearing basic axes and bulky bulwarks of wood. It’s inspired by and an homage to Norse mythology in a way that a game like Valkyrie Profile, which for all its laudable qualities is still in many ways a distinct JRPG simply adopting the trappings of a western culture for its own purposes, can’t be. And more than that, The Banner Saga is also, in its style and approach, based in Norse culture as much as in Norse mythology, and in the modern mythology of vikings that we’ve created about what that culture was like.
Basically what I'm saying is that if you are in any way big on Norse mythology and the whole viking thing, The Banner Saga will give you tingly feelings in your pants, and probably to a way greater degree than most other games on the subject can.
The other quality of The Banner Saga that really stands out to me is its long and realistic portrayal of a fantasy end-of-world scenario. Sure, worlds on the brink of destruction are fairly frequent in RPGs, without a doubt. I’d say at least 4 out of 5 times, the stakes of any given RPG you play are going to be of a saving-the-world variety, or possibly even higher. But it’s fairly rare that you get to really see the gravity of a world in its stages of collapse, isn’t it? Most of the time, all you’re gonna get on this matter are perhaps a few scenes of the sky darkening, or an earthquake or two, during the last moments of the game, which are really only there to prompt some NPCs to join hands and sing Kumbaya so that this can (somehow) empower the heroes during their final battle. On the rare occasion that an RPG draws out its world-ending circumstances to any degree, you still don’t usually get a very strong feel for them, or the desperation of the global population over them. Remember in Final Fantasy 5, when the elements that govern the world’s natural forces begin to wane and die, creating a world of stagnant air, machines that can’t function because fire can’t power them any longer, and so on and so forth? That is some terrifying, Armageddon-level shit right there, and yet the game just kind of presents it in a tone like it’s an inconvenience to the world more than anything else, obviously a problem in need of a solution but only one for the heroes to worry about in the backs of their minds. There’s no real focus on the reaction to this world-ending loss of elemental function, nothing in NPCs’ dialogue that comes across as more than a moderate worry about what is a cataclysm!
The Banner Saga, on the other hand, makes you feel every despairing, desperate step of the world’s slide into destruction. You’re not some flashy handful of colorful destined heroes soaring above the people’s problems on an airship. The characters you follow are refugees, trekking across lands embroiled in war and panic as armies of steel-clad monsters from the inner earth pour by the millions across unprepared lands and communities, a titanic serpent born to swallow the world splits mountains and poisons the oceans, and an all-consuming, corruptive darkness continues to spread unabated. The circumstances for your heroes are desperate from the beginning and only become worse with every stop on their journey to escape their world’s end. Panic, hatred, paranoia, mistrust, and worst of all, ambition: these are the everyday facts of the people of an actively disintegrating world, and The Banner Saga displays them all in harsh reality as the caravan of its heroes faces 1 catastrophe after another, and marches more and more desperately in an attempt to survive and find a safe haven whose existence becomes more doubtful with each step taken.
Not to say that The Banner Saga’s an ugly or depressing series, or anything like that. It doesn’t pull punches with showing the end of the world and the plight of a community of refugees, but there’s always just enough bits and pieces of determination, enough opportunities for its main characters to show heroism, generosity, and solidarity, enough small victories even as the war of attrition is slowly lost, to keep you going along without falling into the same despair as the characters themselves repeatedly must fight against. The Banner Saga isn’t an inspiring, good-feelings adventure, but it’s not a downer RPG, either. It just is what it is--and that’s a pretty cool story that lets you feel the long struggle with an apocalypse that no other RPG I can immediately think of can provide. The closest you can get normally is the retrospective viewpoint of a good post-apocalyptic setting, like Fallout, Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon, or Chrono Trigger’s 2300 AD. The Banner Saga’s the first time I’ve seen an in-depth look at humanity’s fall as it happens in an RPG.
And yeah, that’s about it. The 3 installments of The Banner Saga are a solid buy, in my opinion, if you’re looking for a good story and characters in general, particularly if you’re interested in making some choices that’ll have consequences, both immediate and far-reaching. But where it really shines, what I’d most recommend it for, is its great and dedicated use of Norse mythology and culture for its setting and style, and its portrayal of a world’s end from the perspective of everyday men, women, and heroes trying to survive it, 1 catastrophe at a time. If any of that sounds cool to you, then I recommend you check out The Banner Saga.
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