mercredi 28 décembre 2016

Final Fantasy III: A Retrospective


“Your meeting with the crystal was not happenstance. It was the crystal's will. You have been chosen.”

When I first started my daunting journey through the Final Fantasy series for IGN at the start of 2016, I did so opting for the most convenient and cost-effective methods available to me. For the earliest games in this beloved franchise, that meant resorting to remasters, the trade-off being that I could easily carry the first ten Final Fantasy games around with me on my Vita, grind a few levels whenever I had spare time throughout the day and speed up my playthroughs massively.

As I half-expected, when the first piece in this series landed on IGN’s homepage back in January, I drew some criticism in the comments for not playing the original NES version of the first Final Fantasy. I get it: long-term fans of classic franchises tend to want others to experience what they experienced and in the way they experienced it. It is, of course, not only unrealistic to expect that everyone has had the same formative experiences as you, it’s simply impossible, and is what makes your fellow human beings so damn interesting.

When it came to Final Fantasy II, I had a free pass on this matter as it hadn’t seen the light of day officially outside of the East until it was eventually remastered. The same is true of Final Fantasy III. With the previous two entries at least, despite very minor formula changes, I was essentially playing prettier versions of the original releases, yet Final Fantasy III proved a different proposition entirely.

Final Fantasy III was completely rebuilt from the ground up for the Nintendo DS (subsequently ported to PSP and recently released on Steam), boasting not only several gameplay modernisations and story tweaks, but also a 3D game engine, making it almost unrecognisable next to the version that the good folks of Japan experienced back in 1990. It's a fascinating journey nonetheless.

Final Fantasy III introduces us to the peaceful Village of Ur, a valley-based hamlet situated on an unnamed continent that inexplicably floats high above a world shrouded in darkness and long forgotten. An earthquake soon disrupts Ur’s peace, opening new areas in nearby Altar Cave, and it’s here we find orphan Luneth literally falling victim, plummeting through a hole deep into the caverns below. This leads him to stumble upon the Wind Crystal during his eventful attempts at escape.

Luneth after falling into a dungeon.

Luneth does a little inadvertent dungeoneering.

To his amazement, the Wind Crystal speaks and names him a Warrior of Light, explaining that he and three others like him are destined to combat the growing Darkness and bring balance back to the force world. Before he has the chance to pose a few practical questions, the Crystal transports him outside without further elaboration.

I must admit, after the surprising maturity and intelligent twists and turns of Final Fantasy II, I felt a bit disappointed to see that then-Square had returned to the safety net of ‘prophecy’ to explain the meteoric rise from humble orphans to world-saving champions. For me, prophecy often feels a cheat, saving creators the bother of laying out relatable motivations for their characters, and the most successful uses in other fiction have been when the prophecy turns out to be completely bogus and the heroes are left reeling. That never happens here. Had I been playing the original version, those fears would have been realised even further, with all four characters available from the start and all named heroes by the mysterious crystal at the same time, with precious little backstory.

In the remaster, at least, Square Enix recognised this as a weakness and did a solid job in retrofitting context into each party member’s involvement, cleverly introducing them one at a time and in relatable ways. When we first meet Arc, for example, Luneth’s best friend and adoptive brother before being named a Warrior of Light, he’s being bullied by the local children. Rumour has it that Ur’s neighbouring village, Kazus, is plagued by ghosts. Arc is sceptical, but his scepticism is taken for cowardice, so to prove he’s not craven, he runs away to Kazus, and it’s up to Luneth to bring him home.

Four characters around a crystal.

You are the children of prophecy... sorry about that.

When they arrive at Kazus, they find that the rumours are half-true, with the village under the control of a mischievous Djinn that has placed an invisibility-flavoured curse on its inhabitants. After exploring the area and returning to the airship that friend Cid had lent them, they find a stowaway in Refia, the adopted daughter of a Kazus blacksmith, and the only one unaffected by the hex. Thankfully, Refia knows where to find a Mythril Ring forged by her father, which is the sole item capable of sealing the Djinn away and lifting the curse.

The ring was made for the King of Sasune Castle, however, the trio soon discover that the castle too has fallen victim to the Djinn, and that the ring disappeared along with Princess Sara just before the curse took hold. Terrified that the Djinn is in possession of both his only daughter and its only weakness, the group are tasked by the invisible King Sasune to head to the Djinn’s cave and rescue Sara, but not before the trio become a foursome. Feeling guilt-ridden for not being around when the curse took hold, Sasune’s most loyal King’s Guard, Ingus, becomes the final member to join the party (Kind of. More on that later).

Friendship. Bullying. Fear. Guilt. Everyone has experienced these things at some point or another and, in my case, these scenarios helped put the focus on prophecy out of my mind long enough to form a lasting investment in the fortunes of my fate-chosen foursome.

Nearly every character and key NPC encountered throughout was wonderfully three-dimensional thanks, in part, to likeable personalities, but also to very human flaws.

Yet they weren't the only ones I found myself invested in, as nearly every character and key NPC encountered throughout was wonderfully three-dimensional thanks, in part, to likeable personalities, but also to very human flaws. They were also particularly endearing when the interactions with the party didn't play out as I'd anticipated.

As an example, similarly to how the original Final Fantasy began with a damsel in distress scenario but then dropped it quickly for more interesting developments, Final Fantasy III’s damsel-routine also comes with a twist. Princess Sara had not been kidnapped at all: She had set out, Mythril ring in hand, to tackle the Djinn herself, and is found wandering the caves, bravely seeking the creature. When Ingus demands that she returns to Castle Sasune, she refuses; her sense of duty is such that she means to save her people and will see that through to the end. Brilliant.

She too joins the party, but not in the same way as the others, and this marks Final Fantasy III’s first major systematic departure from the previous game. In Final Fantasy II, there were three main party members, with a fourth slot reserved for interchangeable adventurers as the story dictated. Here, you’ll keep your main four throughout, but when a fifth member joins the party, they do so more passively, only providing their services during battle at timely intervals. Sara is the first of which, and has white mage abilities, casting Cure or Aero randomly as fights play out, although the impact of these 'fifth wheels' only feels like a true benefit in lengthy boss fights.

A dungeon fight alongside Ingus.

Let's not blow it, guys.

When the Djinn is finally defeated, the team are transported back to Altar Cave, back to the Wind Crystal, who explains that all four are now blessed Warriors of Light, and must henceforth venture into the world to dispel the darkness. That’s it. They have no clear goal, no common enemy and no direction, which leaves them wandering around places they’ve already been, trying to find something to do.

Heading back to Sasune Castle, they arrive just in time to see Sara break the Djinn’s curse, which then leads onto the next set of events, but it feels like an age before the team even find out who the main antagonist is - Xande, by the way, a wizard manipulated into evil by the Cloud of Darkness shrouding the world underneath - and he’s barely in the game at all. Despite really enjoying this world and its characters, Final Fantasy III’s lack of narrative direction made it harder for me to care about their fates than in the other early games. This is a problem with Final Fantasy III's writing generally, however; it's a bit… inconsistent.

Continues

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