We're probably all familiar with the fact that, sometimes, two games can differ tremendously in quality, yet both be of the same series. Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories is monstrously frustrating and has a yawn-tastic story for the first 75% of it, while the rest of the games in the KH series (thus far) are terrific fun to play and have gripping and intriguing plots just about from start to finish. Phantasy Star 3 is the gaming equivalent to self-mutilation, while the rest of the series is engaging and original. Wild Arms 3 is a great game in the midst of a series of sorta-kinda-maybe-okay-perhaps-I-guess RPGs. And of course, the Final Fantasy series has its games going all across the board--horrible, incredible, and everything inbetween.
But I don't think I've ever seen quite as stark a contrast between 2 related games as with Lufia and the Fotress of Doom and Lufia: Rise of the Sinistrals (1 and 2, respectively). Now, true, I think there is actually one example with an even wider gap in actual game quality, that being the horrendous Grandia 3 when compared to Grandia 1 and 2, but the difference between the Lufias still seems the most pronounced to me.
First of all, the second game just looks and feels a LOT more crisp and clean. Everything is more defined, the general gameplay is a little more streamlined and fast, the music seems to have more effort put into it, and the battle system, while still a far cry from "fun," is at least not nearly so dull, repetitive, sloppy, and demonically frustrating as Lufia 1's. With Lufia 1, the bosses were so stupidly hard that you could not possibly avoid long level-whoring sessions about half a dozen times or more through the game. With Lufia 2, everything is set up efficiently--as long as you battle and kill most or all of the enemies you encounter while just progressing through dungeons and such normally, you should just about always be strong enough to take on the next boss (though there usually is still a decent challenge involved, but that's a good thing). With the exception of optional bosses, like Gades the first time around or the Egg Dragon, I can't think of any point in the game where you're forced to spend hours seeking out random monsters (who in Lufia 1 would often be tough enough to kill you themselves anyway) just to struggle your way to a few extra levels so you can withstand your next boss encounter.
But of course, this isn't something too shocking. I mean, a sequel cleaning up the general grubbiness of the original game is nothing new to video games. What really sets them apart are the plot and characters.
Now, the plot for Lufia 1 basically goes as follows: Unnamed Hero (for this rant, we shall refer to him by the name of Turd) sets out to stop superbeings (Sinistrals) from taking over planet, helped by his magically-inclined petal-plucking obsessive-compulsive tea-making girlfriend Lufia. They do nice things and join up with both canon-fodder (Aguro) and the pedo-tastic half-elf half-Lolita Jerin. Eventually Lufia remembers she's Erim, a bad guy. Later she decides not to be. They kill the Sinistrals and save the world. Lufia has to make some sort of sacrifice, but it apparently only actually involves giving up all her memories besides those of how to make a mean cup of darjeeling. But that's okay, Turd is perfectly willing to settle for a witless girlfriend; surely those memories will grow back someday, like a cancer, right? And if they don't, it's not like he had to work very hard to win her infatuation the first time anyway.
So it's your basic cookie-cutter save-the-world deal with a small additional subplot of a cookie-cutter anime guy-falls-in-love-with-amnesiac-girl-who's-forgotten-that-she's-Satan romance. Neither something new nor interesting.
Lufia 2, on the other hand, adds a little more flavor to your gaming experience. Now, yes, it's still a save-the-world game as before, with the same grumpy deities taking the villain's position. This time around, however, the game adds a little flavor to the plot, making it a more epic battle of not between good and evil, but also free will and destiny, Man against God, that sort of neat philosophical thing. Everything about the game’s events just feels a lot more like a legendary quest of heroism and virtue. Not to mention that the romantic subplot this time around is much, much better, not only in simple terms of the characters interacting better, but also in showing a glimpse at a relationship AFTER the characters hook up, through marriage and childbirth--quite a rarity in an RPG. It’s solid and a welcome way to watch the characters grow and develop.
Speaking of which, the characters also really set the second game apart from the first just as much as the plot. Where Lufia 1 gives you a cast rank with uninteresting mediocrity, Lufia 2 gives you a cast of realistic, unique individuals teaming up for the greater good and actually interacting with each other as friends and sometimes rivals. They’ve all got good personality traits that set them apart from your average breed of questing bums, be it Dekar’s goofy attitude, Selan’s faithful strength, or even just Maxim’s ability to have fun while adventuring without losing his overall serious and strong demeanor. They’re all good characters, and they mesh well with the story, which makes it all the more enjoyable.
So in just about all ways, Lufia 2 is greatly superior to Lufia 1. But what really makes the gap so memorable to me is the length that Lufia 2 goes to in order to connect itself flawlessly to the first game as a prequel. It’s not just a case of one sequel doing its own thing and kinda sorta trying to tie itself to the previous game enough to call itself a sequel, like with Chrono Cross, nor is it just a game in the series completely separate from the previous one(s), like Grandia 3. Lufia 2 plants itself firmly in the same place and timeline as the first game, and actually defines its world, explaining the origins and expanding the knowledge of a ton of details from Lufia 1, from giving a little more explanation to the Sinistrals’ existence, to showing the origins of the flower that Lufia loves so much, to better understanding the nature of the legendary Dual Blade. Lufia 2 does such a complete job of setting up even minute details of its predecessor that it’s almost even worth it to play Lufia 1 just to see all the big and little connections. That, I think, is what really makes these 2 games stand out as being so different from one another--the fact that they’re so strongly connected, with more care than nearly any other RPG series you can find.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Breath of Fire 3's Plot
With the summer comes a lack of time spent wondering how to spend it whilst sitting in a college computer lab inbetween classes, and thus, I'm gonna cut my rants back to just Mondays for the season. Yes, yes, I'm sure you're all devastated.
Anyways. I've always been a big fan of the Breath of Fire series--bigger than the good-but-not-fantastic series might warrent, even. One thing I've heard from a lot of people who've played some/most/all of the series, though, is that BoF3 is the low point of it. This is simply just not true. (Spoilers ahead, like, of the whole game).
Now, I can understand where this comes from. People I've encountered largely criticize it as seeming pointless, a long adventure without any satisfying aim or conclusion. The reason for this is that Breath of Fire 3 isn't your standard, shallow save-the-world deal. It's not a typical world-spanning quest ending with a climactic showdown with whatever mentally-imbalanced villain with unspeakably destructive powers is threatening the planet/universe for reasons one can only describe as "stupid." In fact, the conclusion of the game has your actions putting the planet's people in more jeopardy than ever, because you choose to kill the goddess who holds a slowly spreading, all-engulfing desert at bay, giving it no obstacle to continue its expansion into the last untouched continent of the planet, where almost all of the world's civilzation is gathered.
The problem is that people don't approach the game with an open mind. They go into the game expecting what they do from almost all RPGs--an eventual happy ending with the world safe and sound and evil banished forever, with several aspects of human nature and interaction having been examined along the way. Well, with Breath of Fire 3, the philosophy IS the plot. The whole quest is just a series of events and characters that all build up to the moment at the end when you confront the goddess who watches over the world, protecting it from the danger of the desert, but stinting its growth and freedom. This moment, in which the main character Ryu must choose whether or not he'll submit to the goddess and allow her to keep coddling the world's people and restricting their advancement, or trust in the determination and strength of the world's people and strike her down to free them to live life as it should be lived--with freedom and choice, even if having those important qualities brings danger, is the defining point of the game, everything it's built up to. It's not MEANT to be a climactic battle showing that Good will overcome Evil. What it's meant to be is a moment showing that despite the dangers and hardships that come with it, people need to have their freedom to live as they wish to, without a parental entity holding them back to protect them from the harsh realities of the world. It's an excellent and thought-provoking message of hope, freedom, and individualism all wrapped into one, but it nonetheless does mean an ending of uncertainty rather than happy security, and that's just not what most people expect from a video game. It's certainly not an inferior method, but if you can't appreciate this original twist on RPG story-telling, then the game will, indeed, seem as empty and disappointing as its detractors claim.
Anyways. I've always been a big fan of the Breath of Fire series--bigger than the good-but-not-fantastic series might warrent, even. One thing I've heard from a lot of people who've played some/most/all of the series, though, is that BoF3 is the low point of it. This is simply just not true. (Spoilers ahead, like, of the whole game).
Now, I can understand where this comes from. People I've encountered largely criticize it as seeming pointless, a long adventure without any satisfying aim or conclusion. The reason for this is that Breath of Fire 3 isn't your standard, shallow save-the-world deal. It's not a typical world-spanning quest ending with a climactic showdown with whatever mentally-imbalanced villain with unspeakably destructive powers is threatening the planet/universe for reasons one can only describe as "stupid." In fact, the conclusion of the game has your actions putting the planet's people in more jeopardy than ever, because you choose to kill the goddess who holds a slowly spreading, all-engulfing desert at bay, giving it no obstacle to continue its expansion into the last untouched continent of the planet, where almost all of the world's civilzation is gathered.
The problem is that people don't approach the game with an open mind. They go into the game expecting what they do from almost all RPGs--an eventual happy ending with the world safe and sound and evil banished forever, with several aspects of human nature and interaction having been examined along the way. Well, with Breath of Fire 3, the philosophy IS the plot. The whole quest is just a series of events and characters that all build up to the moment at the end when you confront the goddess who watches over the world, protecting it from the danger of the desert, but stinting its growth and freedom. This moment, in which the main character Ryu must choose whether or not he'll submit to the goddess and allow her to keep coddling the world's people and restricting their advancement, or trust in the determination and strength of the world's people and strike her down to free them to live life as it should be lived--with freedom and choice, even if having those important qualities brings danger, is the defining point of the game, everything it's built up to. It's not MEANT to be a climactic battle showing that Good will overcome Evil. What it's meant to be is a moment showing that despite the dangers and hardships that come with it, people need to have their freedom to live as they wish to, without a parental entity holding them back to protect them from the harsh realities of the world. It's an excellent and thought-provoking message of hope, freedom, and individualism all wrapped into one, but it nonetheless does mean an ending of uncertainty rather than happy security, and that's just not what most people expect from a video game. It's certainly not an inferior method, but if you can't appreciate this original twist on RPG story-telling, then the game will, indeed, seem as empty and disappointing as its detractors claim.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Lufia 1's Characters
Yes, it's once again time for a review of one game's terribly stupid cast. Not that the rest of the game isn't equally stupid or worse.
Unnamed Protagonist: This hero is one of those annoying sorts who doesn't canonically have any name that I'm aware of, so there's really no way of easily referring to him. I myself named him Maxim like his heroic grandfather (the hero of Lufia 2), but that ended up being kinda confusing later on as I tried to distinguish which Maxim was being referred to when people discussed the virtues of granddaddy Maxim to his unnamed descendant.
However, I have to concede the possibility that not naming this guy was INTENTIONAL on the part of Lufia 1's creators, because they may have realized that a complete lack of any defining name would reflect his complete lack of any defining characteristics. As a character, he can be likened largely to a sack of wet sawdust. No personality whatsoever beyond "dur were is evilz i gotta killz0rz it!!" and "OMG GOTTA SAVE MY LOVE INTEREST."
Lufia: Certainly the high point of the cast, though not really by her own doing. Lufia, as herself, is about as devoid of interesting qualities as this game's hero. You ever see that Red Versus Blue episode where Church and Tex are in Caboose's head, and see Caboose's impression of what a girl is like, saying crap like "I like pretty pretty dresses!" and such? This is generally the impression you get of Lufia. Her joys in life are pretty pretty flowers! And making cinnamon tea for her protagonist boyfriend, who barely seems to acknowledge her existence until she's gone for a while! Half the time she's talking I expect a girlish titter to escape into the dialogue box.
Of course, what makes her interesting is that she's also the Sinistral Erim, who has always kicked ass, but it doesn't really last for long before her overwhelming desire to make flower crowns and various kinds of tea overcome her dark instincts and she comes back to her annoying self.
Aguro: Aguro is the very essence of a Grunt. His entire purpose in the game seems to be being a second physical attacker (and by attacker, I mean, he can Attack, and do NOTHING else), and to be a person in the party who is not the hero or Lufia to add important, insightful grunts.
Jerin: Jerin is a half-elf who looks and acts just like a child and may in fact BE a child (it's hard to tell given elves' longevity) who really really wants to get her lolicon freak on with the hero.
Amon, Daos, and Gades: These three evil superbeings known as Sinistrals are, um, evil, and, uh, they want to take over the world, and do bad things. That's about it. Oh yeah, and at the end of the game, they all mash together in order to form...SUPER MEGA MUTANT VOLTRON SINISTRAL! You see, somehow, when you combine 3 godlike evil dudes, who are 2 warriorish-looking jerks in armor and 1 guy in a robe, you get what looks like Lavos's spleen. Really, someone please explain the following equation to me:
Amon + Daos + Gades = Michael Jackson
Because I'm not quite seeing how it works.
Unnamed Protagonist: This hero is one of those annoying sorts who doesn't canonically have any name that I'm aware of, so there's really no way of easily referring to him. I myself named him Maxim like his heroic grandfather (the hero of Lufia 2), but that ended up being kinda confusing later on as I tried to distinguish which Maxim was being referred to when people discussed the virtues of granddaddy Maxim to his unnamed descendant.
However, I have to concede the possibility that not naming this guy was INTENTIONAL on the part of Lufia 1's creators, because they may have realized that a complete lack of any defining name would reflect his complete lack of any defining characteristics. As a character, he can be likened largely to a sack of wet sawdust. No personality whatsoever beyond "dur were is evilz i gotta killz0rz it!!" and "OMG GOTTA SAVE MY LOVE INTEREST."
Lufia: Certainly the high point of the cast, though not really by her own doing. Lufia, as herself, is about as devoid of interesting qualities as this game's hero. You ever see that Red Versus Blue episode where Church and Tex are in Caboose's head, and see Caboose's impression of what a girl is like, saying crap like "I like pretty pretty dresses!" and such? This is generally the impression you get of Lufia. Her joys in life are pretty pretty flowers! And making cinnamon tea for her protagonist boyfriend, who barely seems to acknowledge her existence until she's gone for a while! Half the time she's talking I expect a girlish titter to escape into the dialogue box.
Of course, what makes her interesting is that she's also the Sinistral Erim, who has always kicked ass, but it doesn't really last for long before her overwhelming desire to make flower crowns and various kinds of tea overcome her dark instincts and she comes back to her annoying self.
Aguro: Aguro is the very essence of a Grunt. His entire purpose in the game seems to be being a second physical attacker (and by attacker, I mean, he can Attack, and do NOTHING else), and to be a person in the party who is not the hero or Lufia to add important, insightful grunts.
Jerin: Jerin is a half-elf who looks and acts just like a child and may in fact BE a child (it's hard to tell given elves' longevity) who really really wants to get her lolicon freak on with the hero.
Amon, Daos, and Gades: These three evil superbeings known as Sinistrals are, um, evil, and, uh, they want to take over the world, and do bad things. That's about it. Oh yeah, and at the end of the game, they all mash together in order to form...SUPER MEGA MUTANT VOLTRON SINISTRAL! You see, somehow, when you combine 3 godlike evil dudes, who are 2 warriorish-looking jerks in armor and 1 guy in a robe, you get what looks like Lavos's spleen. Really, someone please explain the following equation to me:
Amon + Daos + Gades = Michael Jackson
Because I'm not quite seeing how it works.
Monday, May 8, 2006
Bahamut Lagoon's Love Triangle
I've been a pretty cantankerous RPG grump lately, so let's mix it up with another positive rant. And of course, as always, spoilers abound. I mean, I don't usually even bother putting that up these days, but sometimes I spoil so much of a game that I feel that I really HAVE to.
I don't expect too many of you are familiar with one of Square's more obscure old RPGs, Bahamut Lagoon, so here's a sum-up: A Silent Protagonist (God how I hate them) leads a small army of warriors, including Metallite, the original Adelbert Steiner, to save his world against the plots of an evil emperor and the encroachment of an usurper dragon god. Said world in need of protection is made up of large masses of land that float high, high in the sky, forming a world of aerial islands (and you thought Skies of Arcadia had that idea first).
So, yeah, history lesson done with. The game's definitely interesting and fun in its own right, with many deep, dynamic characters, an engaging and interesting plot, and a good share of goofy fun (Donfan is the most awesome RPG smoove operator lady-chaser EVER). But probably the most interesting and original aspect of it, to me, is its romantic subplot.
Now, before I begin, lemme just make a disclaimer here. A lot of this is gonna be based on my personal interpretation of the main character, Byuu, because, being the ever-irritating Silent Protagonist that he is, one has to piece his personality together out of actions, yes/no questions, and general demeanor rather than actual dialogue and monologue, meaning there's plenty of room for interpretation. But as we all know, my interpretation is always right anyways, so let's begin.
Now, at first, the love triangle of this game seems familiar to the point of stupid cliche--protagonist (Byuu) loves girl, antagonist (Palpaleos) loves girl, and girl (Yoyo--no, seriously, that really is her name) is caught in the middle of them. Antagonist turns out to be not that bad a guy after a little while, just to be on the wrong side. Byuu spent his childhood with Yoyo, and in their childish innocence, they went through a little ceremony promising to always be together (on this note, SquareEnix would later plagiarize itself in Kingdom Hearts 1). Palpaleos spent a few years later on getting to know and love Yoyo as she was a well-treated prisoner of his emperor's.
Now, here's where Bahamut Lagoon suddenly turns around and throws you for a loop: Byuu, the hero, loses. The hero of the game does NOT get the girl he loves. During her forced stay under the care of Palpaleos and his country, Yoyo falls in love with him (one can most likely attribute this largely to Stockholm Syndrome, which adds another very unique and intriguing dimension to the romantic story), and stays in love with him throughout the game. Byuu, however, still loves her as well, and his childhood memories with her hang heavily in his mind.
This whole triangle is carried out VERY well overall--it's not some stupid soap opera with feuds and jealousy, but rather a simple bittersweet affair. Byuu holds no grudges, and neither he nor Palpaleos battle one another out of jealousy or try to aggressively win/keep Yoyo's heart.
It's a story of having regrets that the world changed them as people, and that they had to move on from who they were to who they had become. Very poignant, and considering how easy it would have been to make it some violent, shallow affair that you could see on ABC during the daytime, I can really appreciate it. The closest I can think of to ever having seen a relationship ending up like this would be Final Fantasy 6's Terra's brief interest in Locke, but even she admits later that it wasn't substantial. I really enjoy and appreciate this game for taking a real stab at a new and intriguing angle to the tired love triangle.
I don't expect too many of you are familiar with one of Square's more obscure old RPGs, Bahamut Lagoon, so here's a sum-up: A Silent Protagonist (God how I hate them) leads a small army of warriors, including Metallite, the original Adelbert Steiner, to save his world against the plots of an evil emperor and the encroachment of an usurper dragon god. Said world in need of protection is made up of large masses of land that float high, high in the sky, forming a world of aerial islands (and you thought Skies of Arcadia had that idea first).
So, yeah, history lesson done with. The game's definitely interesting and fun in its own right, with many deep, dynamic characters, an engaging and interesting plot, and a good share of goofy fun (Donfan is the most awesome RPG smoove operator lady-chaser EVER). But probably the most interesting and original aspect of it, to me, is its romantic subplot.
Now, before I begin, lemme just make a disclaimer here. A lot of this is gonna be based on my personal interpretation of the main character, Byuu, because, being the ever-irritating Silent Protagonist that he is, one has to piece his personality together out of actions, yes/no questions, and general demeanor rather than actual dialogue and monologue, meaning there's plenty of room for interpretation. But as we all know, my interpretation is always right anyways, so let's begin.
Now, at first, the love triangle of this game seems familiar to the point of stupid cliche--protagonist (Byuu) loves girl, antagonist (Palpaleos) loves girl, and girl (Yoyo--no, seriously, that really is her name) is caught in the middle of them. Antagonist turns out to be not that bad a guy after a little while, just to be on the wrong side. Byuu spent his childhood with Yoyo, and in their childish innocence, they went through a little ceremony promising to always be together (on this note, SquareEnix would later plagiarize itself in Kingdom Hearts 1). Palpaleos spent a few years later on getting to know and love Yoyo as she was a well-treated prisoner of his emperor's.
Now, here's where Bahamut Lagoon suddenly turns around and throws you for a loop: Byuu, the hero, loses. The hero of the game does NOT get the girl he loves. During her forced stay under the care of Palpaleos and his country, Yoyo falls in love with him (one can most likely attribute this largely to Stockholm Syndrome, which adds another very unique and intriguing dimension to the romantic story), and stays in love with him throughout the game. Byuu, however, still loves her as well, and his childhood memories with her hang heavily in his mind.
This whole triangle is carried out VERY well overall--it's not some stupid soap opera with feuds and jealousy, but rather a simple bittersweet affair. Byuu holds no grudges, and neither he nor Palpaleos battle one another out of jealousy or try to aggressively win/keep Yoyo's heart.
It's a story of having regrets that the world changed them as people, and that they had to move on from who they were to who they had become. Very poignant, and considering how easy it would have been to make it some violent, shallow affair that you could see on ABC during the daytime, I can really appreciate it. The closest I can think of to ever having seen a relationship ending up like this would be Final Fantasy 6's Terra's brief interest in Locke, but even she admits later that it wasn't substantial. I really enjoy and appreciate this game for taking a real stab at a new and intriguing angle to the tired love triangle.
Friday, May 5, 2006
The Final Fantasy Series's Ara-Aga
You know what I miss about the old days of Final Fantasy? Besides the fact that Square hadn't yet discovered that they could make money without trying to give the player quality, I mean. Although, then again, I can't see them spending significantly more effort in making that crap heap FF5 than they did on FF10-2. So I guess they've always known that they could be lazy and make a profit off of any poorly-written swill they slap a Final Fantasy name on.
But what I REALLY miss about the old days was that spell names made some fucking SENSE. First of all, of course, there's the fact that lightning spells were called Bolt, as in, bolt of lightning, instead of Thunder, as in, the sound that lightning discharges make that have nothing to do with the lightning itself. And for that matter, spells involving ice were called Ice, instead of Blizzard, which doesn't make all that much sense since the spell typically involves hitting a foe with/encasing a foe in a big block of ice or something. Last time I checked, blizzards were snowstorms, involving a lot of wind, a lot of cold, and a lot of snow. Not really just a big chunk of ice materializing around you.
Square's complete and total ineptitude with meteorological terms aside, though, what I miss about the old spell names was that they were reasonable. You had Fire 1. Fire 2. Fire 3. Fire 4, in FF Tactics. The numbers denoted the power of the spell. It's a working, functional system, right? I mean, it's not fantastically creative--other RPGs might actually name their increasing spells differently to show their strength, where Fire 1 would be called something like Single Match, progressing up to Fire 3's equivalent, 5000 Volcano Explosions While In The Center Of The Sun, or something. But the numbers WORK. They make some SENSE.
Nowadays, we have Ara and Aga. Want to cast Fire 3? Too bad! Instead, you get to cast Firaga! Wanna cast Bolt 2? No dice; you're gonna have to make like Liono and start yelling about Thundara (seriously, now, I can't be the only one who gets a Thundercats rush when I see that spell name, can I?). I mean, where does it even COME from? How does adding an ara at the end of Blizzard suddenly make it a more powerful ice spell? No, really, if you were to look at the spells Firaga, Fire, and Fira, what sort of reasoning would bring you to the conclusion that Firaga is the best of them? I mean, hell, if I were asked which one I thought sounded the most powerful, I'd say Fire, because it's an actual word and doesn't sound as much like something a toddler would gurgle whilst drooling gobs of sour-milk spittle all over his stale, crusty bib as Firaga does.
I miss the happy golden days of numbers. They made sense and they worked. And since Square has not started naming its games Final Fantasara and Final Fantasaga, it can still clearly see the benefits of them. So for heaven's sake, Square, stop monkeying around and bring back the days when your spells were something other than nonsensical moron-babble.
But what I REALLY miss about the old days was that spell names made some fucking SENSE. First of all, of course, there's the fact that lightning spells were called Bolt, as in, bolt of lightning, instead of Thunder, as in, the sound that lightning discharges make that have nothing to do with the lightning itself. And for that matter, spells involving ice were called Ice, instead of Blizzard, which doesn't make all that much sense since the spell typically involves hitting a foe with/encasing a foe in a big block of ice or something. Last time I checked, blizzards were snowstorms, involving a lot of wind, a lot of cold, and a lot of snow. Not really just a big chunk of ice materializing around you.
Square's complete and total ineptitude with meteorological terms aside, though, what I miss about the old spell names was that they were reasonable. You had Fire 1. Fire 2. Fire 3. Fire 4, in FF Tactics. The numbers denoted the power of the spell. It's a working, functional system, right? I mean, it's not fantastically creative--other RPGs might actually name their increasing spells differently to show their strength, where Fire 1 would be called something like Single Match, progressing up to Fire 3's equivalent, 5000 Volcano Explosions While In The Center Of The Sun, or something. But the numbers WORK. They make some SENSE.
Nowadays, we have Ara and Aga. Want to cast Fire 3? Too bad! Instead, you get to cast Firaga! Wanna cast Bolt 2? No dice; you're gonna have to make like Liono and start yelling about Thundara (seriously, now, I can't be the only one who gets a Thundercats rush when I see that spell name, can I?). I mean, where does it even COME from? How does adding an ara at the end of Blizzard suddenly make it a more powerful ice spell? No, really, if you were to look at the spells Firaga, Fire, and Fira, what sort of reasoning would bring you to the conclusion that Firaga is the best of them? I mean, hell, if I were asked which one I thought sounded the most powerful, I'd say Fire, because it's an actual word and doesn't sound as much like something a toddler would gurgle whilst drooling gobs of sour-milk spittle all over his stale, crusty bib as Firaga does.
I miss the happy golden days of numbers. They made sense and they worked. And since Square has not started naming its games Final Fantasara and Final Fantasaga, it can still clearly see the benefits of them. So for heaven's sake, Square, stop monkeying around and bring back the days when your spells were something other than nonsensical moron-babble.
Friday, April 28, 2006
General RPGs' Minigames 1
Alright, folks, it's 4 AM right now, I've got 7 pages out of 10 done for my last paper this term, I've been promising Queelez I'm gonna use his rant idea for a while now, I haven't done a rant for too long, and if I spend any more time on that goddamn paper without taking a break I swear to God I am just going to find as many different ways to say "Kiss My Ass" as it takes to get to that 10th page.
So, minigames. Minigames. We all know them. They're as much a staple of RPGs as hit points, save points, and a complete lack of agreement between companies on what to call Lightning spells. No, I'm not going to let go of that one.
I've never been entirely sure where the concept came from, really. Whose idea was it to include a teeny-tiny, entirely separate game using separate, utterly simplistic rules inside their RPG? And why did they do it? I mean, I grant you that RPGs, as a general rule, are not very fun or interesting to actually play. No, seriously, come on. You could simulate most standard RPGs by jamming equations on a calculator. The biggest difference is that you won't see a little guy or girl or animal or plant or robot or genderless freak jump forward and bonk some hapless creature with a stick. It's not the ultimately powerful paintbrush of legends that you've got equipped on Relm that kills baddies, it's the little white numbers it creates that're lethal. Hell, if an RPG villain ever wanted to really fight dirty against the heroes, he'd just teleport them to Sesame Street and have the Count masacre them.
I think I've gotten off-topic here. This isn't surprising given the time and state of mind. So anyway, yeah, I can see where a game developer might figure that a change of pace from standard RPG battling might be a very good thing for his game. (Not to say, incidentally, that Action RPGs and Strategy RPGs are immune to boring battles as well--Strategy RPGs still often end up being partially a game of Arithmetic Fighter 2 Turbo, and with Action RPGs you always run the risk that a developer will get cute and inflict an unspeakable form of torture on you like in Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories).
But see, this idea usually falls apart in practice, because by and large, minigames are so simplistic and stupid that they're MORE boring than spending an hour fighting hundreds of palette-swapped goblins. For example, you take Chrono Trigger's soup-racing contest. The entire premise of this one is that if you press the A button enough times, you'll win. Not only is there no real logical connection with hitting a button repeatedly and drinking soup that I've ever been able to uncover, but this little minigame's "fun" is supposed to be derived from the challenge of whether you have the stamina and resolve it takes to push a button down, and then do it again a few times. You begin to wish that Ayla HAD just challenged you to actual combat; at least then you would have had to employ some skill, even if it's just more "Hit enemy with hardest attack and heal sometimes."
What makes this whole thing more ridiculous is that the button-mashing minigame isn't restricted to just CT. There are plenty of RPGs that use it. In fact, it's really kinda hard to find ANY minigame that's mostly unique.
So yes, anyways, we have plenty of minigames which are annoying in their simplicity. Look, game developers, I'm not playing an RPG so that I can mash buttons to beat some minigame machine in an arm-wrestle. I'm not playing an RPG so that I can get a miniature Dance Dance Revolution experience that magically makes my character do squats or win well-choreographed duels (and incidentally, Dark Cloud 1, way to go with encouraging me to look at the little buttons on the screen that I have to press so that I completely miss out on watching all the awesome fight moves I'm performing. Real rewarding). I'm not playing an RPG so that I can play Rock-Paper-Scissors for an hour. I'm not playing an RPG so I can learn how to correctly toss a ball in a circle, or engage in a rousing game of Look the Other Way, or move a green bar back and forth and call it fishing, or guess which hand the goddamn ball is in so that I can win a rotten mushroom. Look, give me something that I actually have to use some REAL skill for. Like, with my BRAIN.
Not to say that those don't also have their downfalls--those being, most of the time, boring repetition. FF9's Chocobo Hot and Cold, where you basically dig for items and maps and such, is fun for the first 20-45 minutes. But after that, it just becomes the same thing over and over and over again, repeated for several hours over several sessions until you FINALLY get all the great rewards you want. If you actually make a minigame that's ENJOYABLE, you need to ensure that the gamer can get what he/she wants from it BEFORE it gets dull.
The worst minigames, though, are probably the ones that aren't actually games at all. These are the ones that you acutally have absolutely no control over at all--things like slot machines, or betting on races. What you're basically doing here is giving up a bit of your Gil or Potch or Zenny or Gold or GP or Rupees or Dollars or whatever currency your game's world happens to use so that the game can wait for a few moments before deciding whether or not you win or lose. That's not even really a GAME. You could do the exact same thing by flipping a coin over and over for several minutes and guessing which side will face up when it lands. Not exactly the thrilling amusement one hopes for from a video game.
I've noticed also that casinos in RPGs seem to be the very worst hovels for minigames. You'll usually find slot machines, which I've covered, and sometimes races to bet on, which I've also covered. You'll also invariably find card games you can play against the game, most often Blackjack. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good few games of cards every now and then. But the thing of it is, when I want to play Blackjack, I don't NEED to turn on Super Mario RPG, because I already have a deck. I didn't need to pay $50 for the game, then win the damn juggling clown game 100 times, then find the super-secret exit from Bean Valley, all so I could play a goddamn game of Blackjack! Hell, if I REALLY want a video game element to my card-playing experience, I'll just use my Final Fantasy 7 deck! It cost like $2!
Finally, most of all, it's the mandatory minigames which annoy the hell out of me. Whether it's dicking around with Winnie the Assbrained Pooh, or trying to knock a 300-pound sailor off the mast of a ship while I'm playing as a skinny little angel princess, or throwing dice in a bowl and just sorta hoping they fall on favorable sides, minigames that you HAVE to finish to continue on with the game are ANNOYING. There are a few exceptions--FF7's motorcycle and snowboarding games were fun, and I actually enjoyed Final Fantasy 10's Blitzball--but by and large it's a pain in the ass to be told that you can't continue on or get the best ending if you don't play and win Solid Snake Visits Hyrule Castle's Indoor Garden Maze Filled With Mentally Inept Guards.
So come on, game makers. If you're gonna force these annoying time-wasters on us, at least make them fun and OPTIONAL, like the Xenosaga 1 robot battle game or Final Fantasy 8's Triple Triad (and none of that FF9 Tetra Master bullshit).
Oh, and incidentally, I will likely be doing follow-up rants on this, examining and shaking my head in disgust at several choice minigames that are just so dumb that I can't do them true MST justice here.
So, minigames. Minigames. We all know them. They're as much a staple of RPGs as hit points, save points, and a complete lack of agreement between companies on what to call Lightning spells. No, I'm not going to let go of that one.
I've never been entirely sure where the concept came from, really. Whose idea was it to include a teeny-tiny, entirely separate game using separate, utterly simplistic rules inside their RPG? And why did they do it? I mean, I grant you that RPGs, as a general rule, are not very fun or interesting to actually play. No, seriously, come on. You could simulate most standard RPGs by jamming equations on a calculator. The biggest difference is that you won't see a little guy or girl or animal or plant or robot or genderless freak jump forward and bonk some hapless creature with a stick. It's not the ultimately powerful paintbrush of legends that you've got equipped on Relm that kills baddies, it's the little white numbers it creates that're lethal. Hell, if an RPG villain ever wanted to really fight dirty against the heroes, he'd just teleport them to Sesame Street and have the Count masacre them.
I think I've gotten off-topic here. This isn't surprising given the time and state of mind. So anyway, yeah, I can see where a game developer might figure that a change of pace from standard RPG battling might be a very good thing for his game. (Not to say, incidentally, that Action RPGs and Strategy RPGs are immune to boring battles as well--Strategy RPGs still often end up being partially a game of Arithmetic Fighter 2 Turbo, and with Action RPGs you always run the risk that a developer will get cute and inflict an unspeakable form of torture on you like in Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories).
But see, this idea usually falls apart in practice, because by and large, minigames are so simplistic and stupid that they're MORE boring than spending an hour fighting hundreds of palette-swapped goblins. For example, you take Chrono Trigger's soup-racing contest. The entire premise of this one is that if you press the A button enough times, you'll win. Not only is there no real logical connection with hitting a button repeatedly and drinking soup that I've ever been able to uncover, but this little minigame's "fun" is supposed to be derived from the challenge of whether you have the stamina and resolve it takes to push a button down, and then do it again a few times. You begin to wish that Ayla HAD just challenged you to actual combat; at least then you would have had to employ some skill, even if it's just more "Hit enemy with hardest attack and heal sometimes."
What makes this whole thing more ridiculous is that the button-mashing minigame isn't restricted to just CT. There are plenty of RPGs that use it. In fact, it's really kinda hard to find ANY minigame that's mostly unique.
So yes, anyways, we have plenty of minigames which are annoying in their simplicity. Look, game developers, I'm not playing an RPG so that I can mash buttons to beat some minigame machine in an arm-wrestle. I'm not playing an RPG so that I can get a miniature Dance Dance Revolution experience that magically makes my character do squats or win well-choreographed duels (and incidentally, Dark Cloud 1, way to go with encouraging me to look at the little buttons on the screen that I have to press so that I completely miss out on watching all the awesome fight moves I'm performing. Real rewarding). I'm not playing an RPG so that I can play Rock-Paper-Scissors for an hour. I'm not playing an RPG so I can learn how to correctly toss a ball in a circle, or engage in a rousing game of Look the Other Way, or move a green bar back and forth and call it fishing, or guess which hand the goddamn ball is in so that I can win a rotten mushroom. Look, give me something that I actually have to use some REAL skill for. Like, with my BRAIN.
Not to say that those don't also have their downfalls--those being, most of the time, boring repetition. FF9's Chocobo Hot and Cold, where you basically dig for items and maps and such, is fun for the first 20-45 minutes. But after that, it just becomes the same thing over and over and over again, repeated for several hours over several sessions until you FINALLY get all the great rewards you want. If you actually make a minigame that's ENJOYABLE, you need to ensure that the gamer can get what he/she wants from it BEFORE it gets dull.
The worst minigames, though, are probably the ones that aren't actually games at all. These are the ones that you acutally have absolutely no control over at all--things like slot machines, or betting on races. What you're basically doing here is giving up a bit of your Gil or Potch or Zenny or Gold or GP or Rupees or Dollars or whatever currency your game's world happens to use so that the game can wait for a few moments before deciding whether or not you win or lose. That's not even really a GAME. You could do the exact same thing by flipping a coin over and over for several minutes and guessing which side will face up when it lands. Not exactly the thrilling amusement one hopes for from a video game.
I've noticed also that casinos in RPGs seem to be the very worst hovels for minigames. You'll usually find slot machines, which I've covered, and sometimes races to bet on, which I've also covered. You'll also invariably find card games you can play against the game, most often Blackjack. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good few games of cards every now and then. But the thing of it is, when I want to play Blackjack, I don't NEED to turn on Super Mario RPG, because I already have a deck. I didn't need to pay $50 for the game, then win the damn juggling clown game 100 times, then find the super-secret exit from Bean Valley, all so I could play a goddamn game of Blackjack! Hell, if I REALLY want a video game element to my card-playing experience, I'll just use my Final Fantasy 7 deck! It cost like $2!
Finally, most of all, it's the mandatory minigames which annoy the hell out of me. Whether it's dicking around with Winnie the Assbrained Pooh, or trying to knock a 300-pound sailor off the mast of a ship while I'm playing as a skinny little angel princess, or throwing dice in a bowl and just sorta hoping they fall on favorable sides, minigames that you HAVE to finish to continue on with the game are ANNOYING. There are a few exceptions--FF7's motorcycle and snowboarding games were fun, and I actually enjoyed Final Fantasy 10's Blitzball--but by and large it's a pain in the ass to be told that you can't continue on or get the best ending if you don't play and win Solid Snake Visits Hyrule Castle's Indoor Garden Maze Filled With Mentally Inept Guards.
So come on, game makers. If you're gonna force these annoying time-wasters on us, at least make them fun and OPTIONAL, like the Xenosaga 1 robot battle game or Final Fantasy 8's Triple Triad (and none of that FF9 Tetra Master bullshit).
Oh, and incidentally, I will likely be doing follow-up rants on this, examining and shaking my head in disgust at several choice minigames that are just so dumb that I can't do them true MST justice here.
Friday, April 21, 2006
General RPGs' Thunder Spells
Today, I shall be ranting on something which has bugged me for a long time, probably way more than it should as it really is pretty trivial. Today will probably be both short and not entirely funny, so, sorry in advance.
Now, it is very common in RPGs to have magic attacks based on elements, such as Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water (but not Heart; sorry Ma-Ti). One element very commonly added to an RPG's mix is the element of Electricity, usually most focused on its lightning aspect.
The standard spells for this element vary from game to game, with some being Lightning (such as in Chrono Trigger) and others being Bolt (as in Final Fantasy 6). However, there's one other very common name for these spells: Thunder.
This makes no sense whatever. Thunder refers to the SOUND made in a storm when lightning discharges. In itself, it has NOTHING to do with the electric discharge itself. A spell called Thunder, or Thundara, or Thundaga, or whatever dismally dumb name the FF series wants to give to Bolt 1, 2, and 3 these days, should do nothing but make a big booming sound. A spell using LIGHTNING should be NAMED as such, because that makes SENSE. Bolt is fine, as the term is "bolt of lightning," so it's not like the name couldn't be shortened to fit a smaller text space and still make sense. But for heaven's sake, thunder refers to something completely and totally different from lightning!
Who the hell is translating these games? Or, if it's a correct translation, who the hell is naming the spells to begin with? It's not a difficult concept to grasp. I mean, I think that the last time I got thunder and lightning confused, I might have been 6 years old, tops. Are the translators/developers for Kingdom Hearts and the Final Fantasies taking their work home and letting their kids handle some of the script, or what? Not to say that SquareEnix is the only company that commits this idiocy; there are plenty of other companies' games you find it in--off the top of my head, I know it occurs in Phantom Brave, and I'm sure with an extra couple minutes I could add at least 3 or 4 more examples. It is, frankly, just plain dumb.
Now, it is very common in RPGs to have magic attacks based on elements, such as Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water (but not Heart; sorry Ma-Ti). One element very commonly added to an RPG's mix is the element of Electricity, usually most focused on its lightning aspect.
The standard spells for this element vary from game to game, with some being Lightning (such as in Chrono Trigger) and others being Bolt (as in Final Fantasy 6). However, there's one other very common name for these spells: Thunder.
This makes no sense whatever. Thunder refers to the SOUND made in a storm when lightning discharges. In itself, it has NOTHING to do with the electric discharge itself. A spell called Thunder, or Thundara, or Thundaga, or whatever dismally dumb name the FF series wants to give to Bolt 1, 2, and 3 these days, should do nothing but make a big booming sound. A spell using LIGHTNING should be NAMED as such, because that makes SENSE. Bolt is fine, as the term is "bolt of lightning," so it's not like the name couldn't be shortened to fit a smaller text space and still make sense. But for heaven's sake, thunder refers to something completely and totally different from lightning!
Who the hell is translating these games? Or, if it's a correct translation, who the hell is naming the spells to begin with? It's not a difficult concept to grasp. I mean, I think that the last time I got thunder and lightning confused, I might have been 6 years old, tops. Are the translators/developers for Kingdom Hearts and the Final Fantasies taking their work home and letting their kids handle some of the script, or what? Not to say that SquareEnix is the only company that commits this idiocy; there are plenty of other companies' games you find it in--off the top of my head, I know it occurs in Phantom Brave, and I'm sure with an extra couple minutes I could add at least 3 or 4 more examples. It is, frankly, just plain dumb.
Monday, April 17, 2006
The Kingdom Hearts Series's Winnie the Pooh
You know, I really like Kingdom Hearts. I mean, sure, it's not perfect. Riku's an annoying doofus, the keyblade is the most fucking ridiculous and idiotic weapon I've ever seen (even including gunblades), and it would be nice if Nomura's ego or whatever it is stopping him from adequately putting in characters from any FF not his own would disappear. But overall, it's a fun and great set of games, and hanging out with Disney characters like Hercules and The Beast is awesome. While I certainly do wish Square would put in some REAL quality Disney stuff, like Gargoyles or Darkwing Duck, I have no complaints to the casts they've assembled so far.
Oh wait, no, I do have one single complaint.
Winnie the Pooh.
Now, I'll level with you on the matter--I've always thought Disney's version of Winnie the Pooh was stupid and annoying, right from the start. So I can't pretend there's not some bias possibly at work here. But good fucking God, Square, what is WRONG with you?
It's not enough that KH saddles you with this urine-colored simpleton in each installment of the series. But instead of just being able to beat up some bad guys, maybe solve a few puzzles, and advance the plot the fun way like every other place, you're required to do a bunch of hideously stupid minigames! Ohhhh, how I loathe mandatory minigames. I can think of very few games that have had a fun minigame that wasn't completely optional.
More on those in a later rant. Much, much more.
While I can think of a few possible minigames that would make the 100 Acre Woods reasonably enjoyable (most of them involve rifles and some very choice moving targets), these minigames are sadly as pitifully boring and pointless as their mentally-inept star's existence. They can't help but be, since they are by and large based on events from his show.
However, as paradoxically yawn-inspiring and rage-inducing as his general KH idiocy is, it's when he's doing NEW things in Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories that things are at their worst. You see, in this game, you have the deceptively easy-sounding task of guiding Pooh through a long level, looking for his friends, doing so reasonably quickly so that he won't run out of honey-fuel before he arrives at the next pot for another fix.
Well, there is a major problem with this. And that problem is that Pooh is certifiably blind. Because, see, he can walk RIGHT fucking past his friends and not even NOTICE them. Not to mention that if you step a full 20 steps away from him, he is completely incapable of seeing you waving your hands at him to follow you. Instead, his puny mind chooses to mock you by having him fall asleep. You have to practically close enough to hold his hand for him to properly follow you ANYWHERE, and even then he has to stop at times to ponder for a moment how to work his legs for the next step. Hell, I wish you COULD hold his hand so that you could just drag him along across the ground--hopefully over a few rocks in the process--and GET places.
So, while recently playing KHCoM and watching Pooh stumble along like a mentally handicapped zombie, I put my mind to work on creating a theory about why Pooh is so painfully unintelligent. It wasn't like I would be needing to focus on anything else for the next 10 minutes it would take for the slack-jawed moron to make the next 2 steps toward me. And here is what I came up with. You see, Pooh has a diet consisting of nothing but honey--one which we could only hope would eventually lead to his blissful, malnutritioned end. So I decided that perhaps one day, Pooh, while sitting on his cushioned ass, took a large dump of whatever the hell happens when a full pot of honey goes through a cotton-based digestive system. Being perpetually hungry, of course, he realized that this foul substance still smelled somewhat like honey, and decided to eat some. Only, he temporarily forgot which hole in his head was his mouth, and so started to busily shove it into his ears. And that shit, I believe, still resides in his otherwise vaccuous cranium, being used as a substitute for a brain. It at least explains why he feels the need to stagger around like a drunken toddler.
Oh wait, no, I do have one single complaint.
Winnie the Pooh.
Now, I'll level with you on the matter--I've always thought Disney's version of Winnie the Pooh was stupid and annoying, right from the start. So I can't pretend there's not some bias possibly at work here. But good fucking God, Square, what is WRONG with you?
It's not enough that KH saddles you with this urine-colored simpleton in each installment of the series. But instead of just being able to beat up some bad guys, maybe solve a few puzzles, and advance the plot the fun way like every other place, you're required to do a bunch of hideously stupid minigames! Ohhhh, how I loathe mandatory minigames. I can think of very few games that have had a fun minigame that wasn't completely optional.
More on those in a later rant. Much, much more.
While I can think of a few possible minigames that would make the 100 Acre Woods reasonably enjoyable (most of them involve rifles and some very choice moving targets), these minigames are sadly as pitifully boring and pointless as their mentally-inept star's existence. They can't help but be, since they are by and large based on events from his show.
However, as paradoxically yawn-inspiring and rage-inducing as his general KH idiocy is, it's when he's doing NEW things in Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories that things are at their worst. You see, in this game, you have the deceptively easy-sounding task of guiding Pooh through a long level, looking for his friends, doing so reasonably quickly so that he won't run out of honey-fuel before he arrives at the next pot for another fix.
Well, there is a major problem with this. And that problem is that Pooh is certifiably blind. Because, see, he can walk RIGHT fucking past his friends and not even NOTICE them. Not to mention that if you step a full 20 steps away from him, he is completely incapable of seeing you waving your hands at him to follow you. Instead, his puny mind chooses to mock you by having him fall asleep. You have to practically close enough to hold his hand for him to properly follow you ANYWHERE, and even then he has to stop at times to ponder for a moment how to work his legs for the next step. Hell, I wish you COULD hold his hand so that you could just drag him along across the ground--hopefully over a few rocks in the process--and GET places.
So, while recently playing KHCoM and watching Pooh stumble along like a mentally handicapped zombie, I put my mind to work on creating a theory about why Pooh is so painfully unintelligent. It wasn't like I would be needing to focus on anything else for the next 10 minutes it would take for the slack-jawed moron to make the next 2 steps toward me. And here is what I came up with. You see, Pooh has a diet consisting of nothing but honey--one which we could only hope would eventually lead to his blissful, malnutritioned end. So I decided that perhaps one day, Pooh, while sitting on his cushioned ass, took a large dump of whatever the hell happens when a full pot of honey goes through a cotton-based digestive system. Being perpetually hungry, of course, he realized that this foul substance still smelled somewhat like honey, and decided to eat some. Only, he temporarily forgot which hole in his head was his mouth, and so started to busily shove it into his ears. And that shit, I believe, still resides in his otherwise vaccuous cranium, being used as a substitute for a brain. It at least explains why he feels the need to stagger around like a drunken toddler.
Monday, April 10, 2006
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time's Money Limit
Odd of me to rant twice in a row about a game I haven't played in over 2 years, but ideas come to me as they come to me.
So, in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Nintendo decided to add a new aspect to the series--an actual limit to how much money you can accumulate based on the size of your wallet. Now granted, RPG gamers are used to dealing with numerical limits to various parts of their characters--the infamous 999 or 9999 damage limits in most games, the standard 255 stat limit for the Final Fantasy series, etc. We expect a certain limit on the amount of money we can gain by looting corpses in a game. It's just part of the programming, and usually it's high enough that you're unlikely to ever normally reach it anyway--and you certainly would never NEED to most of the time.
Well, TLoZOoT changes all that. You're limited in the beginning of the game to being able to carry a measly 99 rupees, which is barely enough to buy anything of interest, and you can increase that amount to 200 and later 500 by getting bigger wallets. Well, on this matter, I'm going to have to call Bullshit. Once you actually work the money-limit into the plot, you get absolutely fucking ridiculous.
Are we expected to believe that if Link has 99 rupees and his wallet can't carry any more, that he's going to just look at a red one (worth 20) and say "Gee, I sure do wish I could take that, but my wallet just can't hold it, so I guess I'm out of luck?" Look, if I see a glittering gem on the street worth $20 that no one's claiming, I'm gonna find SOME way to carry it, regardless of whether my pocket's full. You trying to tell me that Link couldn't just throw a few of those absolutely useless Deku Nuts away to make a little space in his inventory for a few extra bucks? That he couldn't just empty one of his bottles of the fairy or bug or juice or milk or whatever the hell he's keeping in it to eat later and put in a few cool 50-Rupees? Hell, for all I care he can stick them down his damn tights; from the looks of him, it's more than likely he's got little else to fill that space. I don't care HOW they wanna work it, but Nintendo needs to stop fucking me over every time I find a golden 200-Rupee prize and can't do a damn thing with it because my tiny useless little wallet refuses to carry it.
EDIT FROM THE FAR FUTURE: I am totally not the only person who thinks this is bullshit.
Friday, April 7, 2006
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time's Characters
I'm actually running kinda low on RPGs whose entire casts were largely dull and stupid for me to ridicule here. Sure, there are a few boring and lackluster casts out there, but really, what can I even TRY to say about the characters of Final Fantasy Mystic Quest or Lufia 1? And some games have had casts so forgettable that...well, I've pretty much just forgotten them altogether, and I certainly don't want to have to go and subject myself to the pain of Seiken Densetsu 3 or Dragon Quest 5 again just to remember them. I'm not THAT dedicated. After today, I'm really only going to have Chrono Cross left, which is both a daunting task in that there are so many characters to cover, and yet also the easiest since I can sum 90% of them up with one word: Empty.
So anyway, yeah, let's take a look at this game's cast. I'll be counting the Sages as party members, since, well, if I don't then it's just 4 characters, only 2 of which are even human, I'm looking at.
Link: Well, right off the bat we've got Link, the least manly-looking RPG protagonist of all time. Seriously, people who complain that FF10's Tidus looks like Meg Ryan and so on should be thankful that he at least wears clothing that SORT OF identifies him as a man. Link, on the other hand, true to form after about 10 years since he originally hit the screen, still stubbornly insists on wearing his little forest-elf outfit, which consists of pantyhose, little booties, and a skirt. Not that it's the clothes alone that negate his masculinity, of course--he himself has the face and hair of a woman, and his flat-chested woman's body doesn't help. Honestly, he looks more like a man in his 10-year-old form in this game than he does as an adult.
You may notice I'm not commenting on his character here. Well, this is largely because Link HAS no character. You may recall my last rant mentioned him as being one of the poster children for silent protagonists. Well, what this means is that we pretty much know absolutely nothing about him, as usual. From the knowledge gathered in the game, we can safely assume that pain hurts him, surprising things surprise him, he enjoys taking money from dead monsters, and he has monumental patience when dealing with fucking annoying fairies.
Zelda/Sheik: Apparently jealous after all these games that Link continues to be a prettier woman than she is, Zelda decided to get into the whole gender-confusion thing in this one by using her magic to change herself into a man for 7 years. A man whose idea of helping Link to accomplish his hero work is to talk about touchy-feel-good emotions and teach him how to play 7 consecutive notes that are somehow classified as a song.
Despite all this, she's still clearly the best Zelda incarnation as of this game, given that she's at least out doing SOMETHING instead of just standing around, kidnapped or waiting to be.
Saria: Saria is a little forest elf girl who, like Link, cosplays Peter Pan. Her cosplay is more dedicated than Link's, though, as she really does take Pete's policy of "I don't wanna grow up, I'm a Toys-R-Us kid" seriously.
Darunia: Darunia is a big Goron, which as close as I can figure is sorta like a race of rock trolls with the combined mental abilities of a tapeworm. When Link goes and kills a big dinosaur thing that causes the Gorons trouble, Darunia is so overwhelmed by the idea of a person who doesn't sit on his ass in a hole eating rocks all day and actually gets shit DONE that he decides to name his son after him.
Impa: Impa is basically the Anti-Link. While she does very prominently have breasts, every other aspect of her screams "Man!" There's not much to her, really, she just stands around, waiting for Zelda to give her orders.
Ruto: "Wow, you went crawling around in the intestines of a huge fish just so you could hork my royal family heirloom! You are turning my freakish fish-body on SO much. Let's get married!"
You know, aside from the fish-body thing, I could actually see Rinoa saying that to Squall at some point under like circumstances.
Rauru: "Hi, I'm Rauru, Sage of Light. So, you've aged 7 years, Hyrule's a desolate wasteland ruled by evil now, most everyone you ever knew is probably dead, and you have a whole new quest. What's that? You need some time to come to grips with your entire world having collapsed? Well, do it some place else. Get the hell out!"
Nabooru: Nabooru's intense warrior's training and powerful Earth Sage's magic give her the amazing ability to be immediately captured in a quicksand trap by the Twinrova sorceress sisters, the Bebop and Rocksteady of witchcraft.
Epona: Epona the horse is actually the most powerful being in the world, in that she is invulnerable to any and all attack. She's not particularly brilliant, as her judgment on who she deems safe or a threat relies entirely on whether they can hum 6 notes the right way.
Ganondorf/Ganon: Despite having more screen time and dialogue in this game than ever before, Ganon continues to be a dull, unimaginative villain with no motivation for being an asshole beyond just plain being an asshole.
Navi: If you have played and beaten this game, you are REQUIRED to hate this annoying attention-whore bug thing, and all the annoying fairies who will follow in her footsteps. Every goddamn minute, you will hear her shriek, "HEY! LISTEN!" in her squeaky little fairy voice. The designers try to pass this off as her trying to help you by pointing out things of interest, but no, oh ho ho no, I know better. She is pointing out things of interest to HER, not ME. I myself am not going to get excited over her interest in the same rock I passed 2 minutes ago that she already screamed about. She has a memory like Leonard from Momento, only Leonard has the goddamn sense to leave himself notes. That's what I wish I could do in this game, is obtain an item, Stack of Post-It Notes, and just put one on every single damn pebble and blade of grass that Navi starts wailing like a police siren about. Notes that say, "ALREADY EXAMINED THIS, TINKERBITCH" and "I FUCKING KNOW, YOU ADHD-ADDLED TWIT" that she could read every time she sees this amazing patch of dirt for the 7th time and wants to share its existence with me by making a scene.
What I wouldn't give in that game for a can of fucking Raid.
So anyway, yeah, let's take a look at this game's cast. I'll be counting the Sages as party members, since, well, if I don't then it's just 4 characters, only 2 of which are even human, I'm looking at.
Link: Well, right off the bat we've got Link, the least manly-looking RPG protagonist of all time. Seriously, people who complain that FF10's Tidus looks like Meg Ryan and so on should be thankful that he at least wears clothing that SORT OF identifies him as a man. Link, on the other hand, true to form after about 10 years since he originally hit the screen, still stubbornly insists on wearing his little forest-elf outfit, which consists of pantyhose, little booties, and a skirt. Not that it's the clothes alone that negate his masculinity, of course--he himself has the face and hair of a woman, and his flat-chested woman's body doesn't help. Honestly, he looks more like a man in his 10-year-old form in this game than he does as an adult.
You may notice I'm not commenting on his character here. Well, this is largely because Link HAS no character. You may recall my last rant mentioned him as being one of the poster children for silent protagonists. Well, what this means is that we pretty much know absolutely nothing about him, as usual. From the knowledge gathered in the game, we can safely assume that pain hurts him, surprising things surprise him, he enjoys taking money from dead monsters, and he has monumental patience when dealing with fucking annoying fairies.
Zelda/Sheik: Apparently jealous after all these games that Link continues to be a prettier woman than she is, Zelda decided to get into the whole gender-confusion thing in this one by using her magic to change herself into a man for 7 years. A man whose idea of helping Link to accomplish his hero work is to talk about touchy-feel-good emotions and teach him how to play 7 consecutive notes that are somehow classified as a song.
Despite all this, she's still clearly the best Zelda incarnation as of this game, given that she's at least out doing SOMETHING instead of just standing around, kidnapped or waiting to be.
Saria: Saria is a little forest elf girl who, like Link, cosplays Peter Pan. Her cosplay is more dedicated than Link's, though, as she really does take Pete's policy of "I don't wanna grow up, I'm a Toys-R-Us kid" seriously.
Darunia: Darunia is a big Goron, which as close as I can figure is sorta like a race of rock trolls with the combined mental abilities of a tapeworm. When Link goes and kills a big dinosaur thing that causes the Gorons trouble, Darunia is so overwhelmed by the idea of a person who doesn't sit on his ass in a hole eating rocks all day and actually gets shit DONE that he decides to name his son after him.
Impa: Impa is basically the Anti-Link. While she does very prominently have breasts, every other aspect of her screams "Man!" There's not much to her, really, she just stands around, waiting for Zelda to give her orders.
Ruto: "Wow, you went crawling around in the intestines of a huge fish just so you could hork my royal family heirloom! You are turning my freakish fish-body on SO much. Let's get married!"
You know, aside from the fish-body thing, I could actually see Rinoa saying that to Squall at some point under like circumstances.
Rauru: "Hi, I'm Rauru, Sage of Light. So, you've aged 7 years, Hyrule's a desolate wasteland ruled by evil now, most everyone you ever knew is probably dead, and you have a whole new quest. What's that? You need some time to come to grips with your entire world having collapsed? Well, do it some place else. Get the hell out!"
Nabooru: Nabooru's intense warrior's training and powerful Earth Sage's magic give her the amazing ability to be immediately captured in a quicksand trap by the Twinrova sorceress sisters, the Bebop and Rocksteady of witchcraft.
Epona: Epona the horse is actually the most powerful being in the world, in that she is invulnerable to any and all attack. She's not particularly brilliant, as her judgment on who she deems safe or a threat relies entirely on whether they can hum 6 notes the right way.
Ganondorf/Ganon: Despite having more screen time and dialogue in this game than ever before, Ganon continues to be a dull, unimaginative villain with no motivation for being an asshole beyond just plain being an asshole.
Navi: If you have played and beaten this game, you are REQUIRED to hate this annoying attention-whore bug thing, and all the annoying fairies who will follow in her footsteps. Every goddamn minute, you will hear her shriek, "HEY! LISTEN!" in her squeaky little fairy voice. The designers try to pass this off as her trying to help you by pointing out things of interest, but no, oh ho ho no, I know better. She is pointing out things of interest to HER, not ME. I myself am not going to get excited over her interest in the same rock I passed 2 minutes ago that she already screamed about. She has a memory like Leonard from Momento, only Leonard has the goddamn sense to leave himself notes. That's what I wish I could do in this game, is obtain an item, Stack of Post-It Notes, and just put one on every single damn pebble and blade of grass that Navi starts wailing like a police siren about. Notes that say, "ALREADY EXAMINED THIS, TINKERBITCH" and "I FUCKING KNOW, YOU ADHD-ADDLED TWIT" that she could read every time she sees this amazing patch of dirt for the 7th time and wants to share its existence with me by making a scene.
What I wouldn't give in that game for a can of fucking Raid.
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