Posts Tagged ‘ Hironobu Sakaguchi ’

Final Fantasy XIII – “Heartbreaking Nostalgia”

All it took for was one brief look at the Yoshitaka Amano title screen in a local megastore for a scream to build up inside. “Final Fantasy”. We grew up with the series and for that they will always hold a special place in our hearts. Despite we being old enough to acknowledge that they do not represent the epitome of video games’ expression (nor have ever represented), they still come out as great examples of the specific realm of their genre or aesthetic. Like those wonderful storybooks you read when you were younger or the fantasy films of yesteryear, we look past their ever-lasting naivete and ingenuity, and welcome their heart-warming fantasy. It helps that they were crafted by some of the most gifted artists and story-tellers that were present in the medium: Sakaguchi, Kitase, Amano, Naora, Minaba, Uematsu. These authors breathed life into these childish incantations, making adolescents’ imagination soar high with those beautiful, magical sceneries that the world could never see unless for the power of digital art. But though our hearts cry with joy at the sights and sounds of many old chapters, they shriek in horror when faced with the XIIIth! Why is this?

Some think we are too old to indulge in such infantile musings [like our dear friend dieubussy or Carless]. Such an idea seems puzzling, not just because older J-RPG’s still click today with many of us, but also because other mediums have consistently shown that family entertainment directed at children is possible. So much literature, film and music is non-age specific, despite apparently being directed at young ones, that one must question why such a reality is not possible in video games. Are we really that old not to appreciate a light fantasy story? We aren’t, and yet “Final Fantasy XIII” makes us squirm. Why? Is it the clear-cut plot? The plastic theatricality of anime aesthetics? The combat system, high on acrobatic thrills, yet devoid of meaningful strategy and, in a clear step backwards from “XII”, also absent of naturalistic control and animation, drowned in decades of turn-based prejudice? Are these elements worse than they were 10 years ago? Somehow the memory of past titles, however tainted by nostalgia, inclines us to say: these are worse in every possible way.

Perhaps it is just the fact that technology has opened doors that current age video-game creators still are not adept at exploring. Just as “Final Fantasy X” botched the expressive potential of adding voice-acting, maybe “Final Fantasy XIII’s” creators just didn’t know how to fill with detail that which once bloomed with mystery and so powerfully ignited the hidden corners of our imagination. But even that doesn’t explain everything. Because, not only does “Final Fantasy” avoid and even contradict welcome evolutions to basic video-game language – such as a predominance of spatial metaphors and real-time dynamics – as it seems crafted for audiences far less demanding than those of past titles. Impoverished storyline and characters, gun-crazy action sequences, fast beat soundtrack and sugar-caned visuals are all elements that mar the experience of a proper fantasy tale, making it only fully digestible by those with short attention spans, spoiled by the frantic plethora of inputs that governs this information age. Nonetheless, we remain in doubt. We know not why “Final Fantasy XIII” does not resonate with us. Perhaps for all the aforementioned reasons, or perhaps for none at all. But one thing we take for certain in the midst of these questions: “Final Fantasy XIII” isn’t good. Despite the big budget and technical finesse we’ve come to associate with Square’s productions, the game simply lacks the fine artistic craftsmanship of the past, and thus it no longer represents the standard by which all J-RPG’s should be measured. And of that, let no doubts remain.

Final Fantasy XII – “Braving New Skies”

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When Hironobu Sakaguchi left Square, he left an authorial void for the “Final Fantasy” series. Though he had relinquished his place as director many years before, he had assured a coherent evolution of the work through his mentoring as Executive Producer. When he left, his vision was naturally discontinued. While some might see this departure as the dire end of the “Final Fantasy” brand, it was a necessary evil for the series to move on. In the nineties, the name “Final Fantasy” was a synonym for new audacious ventures and the enlightened exploration of the boundaries of both video-games in general and role-playing games in specific, but since then the series had become enthralled in its mentor’s vision. What was once a guiding beacon had become a blinding beam of light. Change was needed. Enters Yasumi Matsuno [which I’ve already discussed briefly in this article], author behind “Final Fantasy Tactics” and “Vagrant Story”. Charged with the directing of “Final Fantasy XII”, Matsuno seems to have wanted to impose his unique take on the genre; the change that would ensue from his ego’s imposition on the series cannon would lead to some dissent from the more fervorous fans. But change bares its prices, and one cannot explore new landscapes without leaving the common and familiar settings which we grew accustomed to.

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The game’s backdrop is Ivalice; at first glance it is not that much unlike the worlds from previous “Final Fantasies”: its blend of science-fiction and high fantasy is very similar to its predecessors and the aesthetic follows many traditional tropes for the series (moogles, chocobos, spunky haired heroes, flashy colors and wardrobe, etc). But when probed deeper, it reveals some staggering changes in tone. Visually, the influence from Hiroshi Minagawa’s (art director and co-director) style is prevalent, with his use of earthy tones and eastern motif’s dominating the landscape. All of the game’s art builds these cohesive images in your mind, from the Archade’s art-deco meets Babylon’s hanging gardens, to Dalmasca’s middle eastern vibe, with its crowded streets, bustling street markets and sprawling deserts. Ivalice has that unique quality that good fantasy pieces tend to possess: it’s dreamy and magical, but it bares a cohesiveness and wealth of detail that we come to associate with the real world. Character design and soundtrack are also a departure for the series following the style of Matsuno’s previous games: Akihiko Yoshida took Nomura’s place in translating Amano’s paintings into each character, and Uematsu’s intimate and delicate compositions were replaced by Hitoshi Sakimoto’s and Masaharu Iwata’s more orchestral, opulent music styles.

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The game’s narrative themes also clash with “Final Fantasy” tradition, being more akin to a Shakespeare play than the typical high fantasy cliches that overrun the genre. Sakaguchi’s bed-time naivete is avoided, paving way for a medieval drama that deals with corruption, moral ambiguities and the troubles of monarchic and autocratic states, with royal family intrigue, the constant back-stabbing of political figures and the waging of a war serving as the forefront for the action. However, despite the well penned background (by Miwa Shoda and Daisuke Watanabe) and the enticing narrative structure, there’s a constant influence from “Star Wars” in many of the story’s motifs. From the presence of a sky-pirate and his furry sidekick, to the main character being a princess whose kingdom was conquered by an evil empire, not to mention the operatic climax, a battle being waged with many “star-ships” and “battle cruisers” (directed in similar fashion to recent “Star Wars” episodes), the references are simply too prevalent to discard as coincidence. This influence is ill-fated, as it creeps its way into the aesthetic background, and doing so, breaks away the consistency of the world which bares little relationship with Lucas’ universe.

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The biggest change in “XII” however, comes from where it was most needed: game-play. Turn based battle systems were starting to accuse their age, and perhaps more importantly, their constant lack of innovation. Despite all the good that previous “Final Fantasies” had introduced to make action more dynamic, tactical and well paced, none comes close with the revolution brought about by this twelfth iteration. Firstly, its MMORPG inspired battle system is seamless, featuring no awkward transition from exploration to battle, in essence making the world feel less fragmented. And because battles apparently run in real time, it makes them swifter, more frantic and engaging. In all fairness, it is still a turn battle system running underneath: you can still pause the game at any time, giving orders for each ensuing turn and characters only act when their ATB bar is filled. But the pacing is so fast, that actions really feel like they’re being executed in real time. More so, you can move your characters in real time, making the illusion more consistent and adding depth to tactical placement of characters.

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The problem when moving turn based battle systems into real time, comes from the fact that battles become too fast paced to leave space for tactical thinking and strategy planning. And this is where the game strikes a chord of genius, by introducing a customizable AI system named ‘Gambit’. It’s basically an interface to control each character’s AI, based on an “If Event_A happens then do Action_B” kind of logic. It gives you the power to accurately determine each character’s behavior in combat facing various situations and outcomes, thus allowing for a near infinite number of tactical choices. By combining speed with tactical thinking, the game gives you the perfect battle system – one that never feels old. Battles become fast and smooth and grinding becomes fun instead of a chore. It’s simple, elegant and above all, incredibly entertaining; without a shadow of a doubt, the best “Final Fantasy” battle system since “VII”. In fact, game-play in “XII” is so good that its only flaw is that it becomes a huge driving focus of the game, over-shadowing narrative, which ultimately ends up developing slower than would be normal for a “Final Fantasy”.

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“Final Fantasy XII” maintains all of the important qualities of the series, but in all of its expressive dimensions, there’s something new and fresh to it. It’s a game that tries to break free from the stylistic notions that ruled its predecessors, and that is in my opinion, its greatest accomplishment. If anything, Matsuno’s greatest failing in “Final Fantasy XII” is that he was not able to completely cut away Sakaguchi’s legacy. At times, the game does feel contrived and bounded by certain classic “Final Fantasy” precepts and whether that is due to Matsuno’s premature departure from the project (for health reasons) or for the known friction between the staff’s different teams, remains unknown. Despite the fact, what we’re left with is an a new adventure that revolutionizes what the name “Final Fantasy” stands for. Matsuno took a huge risk to brave new skies, challenging the genre’s preconceptions and venturing where few had dared to. And that is Final fantasy’s true spirit: to lead the RPG genre into new horizons. It just took Matsuno-san to break away from the past and actually do it.

score: 4/5

[Thanks to Rheinmetall for asking for this review. It’s a bit more traditional than I usually come up with, but I hope you enjoy it.]

Lost Odyssey – “The (Real) Final Fantasy”

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Few “Final Fantasy” fans like the new course of the series, with Yasumi Matsuno’s different approach in “FFXII” and the growing number of uninspired series’ spin offs. Let’s face it, after Square and Enix merged, Square’s brands have been milked far beyond comprehension: in between remakes, spin-offs, special editions and sequels, SquareEnix has released several dozens of games in the past years. And though that has netted a steady flow of cash into the company, it has sprouted a wave of disbelief in the company’s standards by long-time fans. For all of the motives above, it is fair to say that FFXIII is the least expected episode in the series in many years. So, when word got out that after leaving Square, Hironobu Sakaguchi formed a new company named Mistwalker, expectations reached an all time high for the “Final Fantasy” hardcore fans. “Blue Dragon” came out, and those expectations faded: it featured an archaic battle system and a horribly childish script. So, “Lost Odyssey” was released with little fanfare: reviewers everywhere dismissed the game as mild effort to repeat the “Final Fantasy” formula once more, and the hardcore fan-base of the 360 wasn’t mildly interested in a classical JRPG. So, the question that needs answering is: how does “Lost Odyssey” stack up when compared with the “Final fantasy” legacy?

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“Lost Odyssey” is the tale of Kaim Argonar, an immortal man that has lived for over a thousand years. It is set in a high fantasy scenario with sci-fi elements, in everything similar to that of “FFVIII”, where a number of political conflicts have engaged the world’s countries in a series of wars. Of course, the reason why the world is at war is rather simple: there is a powerful and somewhat mad wizard that wants to take over the world with his magic, and uses these conflicts to gain power; alas, nothing new on this front. Sakaguchi’s scenario is really poor, so much that it pains me to write so. The plot is so obvious and dull it hurts: in the first few hours it will be plainly obvious who the bad guys are and what they’re plotting, and what the good guys’ purpose is. No plot twists, no grand finale, no hidden meanings, no nothing. Yet, the old Sakaguchi charm still manages to creep up, with a cast of touching and funny characters giving the story a much needed interest. Jansen, a womanizer with the appetite for booze and prostitutes is delightfully funny; Seth, a cynical pirate that is Jansen’s complete opposite, picks on him throughout the game making them a great duo for any comedic act; and then there’s Sed, Seth’s son, an elderly pirate that still calls his mother “Momma”. The rest of the cast isn’t as interesting, and can seem mostly underdeveloped, especially, the main character Kaim, who is so “emo” it becomes annoying: all his dialogues can be resumed to a series of careless, dry, uninteresting one-liners. But that is where things get interesting…

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As you might already know, “Lost Odyssey” features collaboration from (supposedly) famous Japanese writer Kiyoshi Shigematsu with the name of “A 1000 years of dreams”, a collection of memories belonging to Kaim’s one thousand years of living. These memories were translated to screen only using text, a few abstract images and sound, and of course, Uematsu’s riveting soundtrack. The result is, by far, the best narratives “Lost Odyssey” has to offer. Here, Kaim is portrayed as a real, multifaceted character, with proper feelings and personality, and his life-episodes are much more deep and emotionally provocative than anything Sakaguchi can come up with. They can be described as somewhat philosophical tales about war and peace, love and hate, life and death, but nothing I could ever write could transmit how powerful and well written they really are. After the first one, I was literally hooked to these pieces of literary magic, that managed to make me weep (yes, weep) every single time, due to the intensity of those vivid dramatic moments, made all the more touching thanks to Uematsu’s music. It’s so damn good, that if “Lost Odyssey” focused on these “1000 Years of Memories” instead of the silly “Madman wants to take over the world” plot, it would probably have the best JRPG story ever. It’s not that Sakaguchi’s plot doesn’t have its share of powerful emotional moments, it does, it’s just that there are a lot of silly clichéd subplots in between each one, and they lack the depth present in Shigematsu’s tales.

The gameplay, as would be expected from Sakaguchi, is the standard in classical turn-based RPG’s, i.e. nothing new here as well. And if it does feel dated and overused, one must admit that at least it’s well executed. Some things have been improved: the player is fairly rewarded for exploring the world; grinding is not an issue, thanks to the use of an experience system that grants levels with great speed; and very importantly, the tradition of obscure side-quests is gone, with most of the hidden secrets in the game only requiring a healthy amount of exploration and reasoning to find. So if you like to reminisce about classical “Final fantasies”, then the gameplay will surely make you happy with nostalgia. Nobuo Uematsu’s fully orchestrated score will also make you very happy, as it follows the spirit of the series, meaning its one hell of a soundtrack. And it’s completely original, which allowed Uematsu to go to new, unvisited places, instead of having to rearrange time and time again the same melodies. The result does bear some nostalgia, but also manages to go forward in creating new sounds and styles: expect everything from metal to erudite music to be present.

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On the technical side, the game has its share of ups and downs. The art-direction is very good and translates well into the extremely detailed Unreal Engine, producing beautiful sets and characters. It isn’t, by any means, nothing that hasn’t been done before: most of the aesthetic is reminiscent of past “Final Fantasy” games, and the usual Japanese quirky silliness (like dresses that lack fabric in bosom and rear) is all too present to make the world’s environment feel believable. The fact that the game doesn’t run all that well, doesn’t help: there are many loading-screens and stuttering-cutscenes waiting players who want to get through to the end of the game. At least, the cutscenes and FMV are the best I’ve ever seen, with fast cut editing, dynamic directing (finally a game that masters the use of low and high-angle shots) and use of simultaneous multiple POVs (giving a comic-book feel similar to that of Ang Lee’s underappreciated “Hulk”). Apart from the simplistic lighting, the marvelous visual direction by Roy Sato (animator of “The Flight of the Osiris” from the “Animatrix” short stories) is highly commendable.

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So, is “Lost Odyssey” a worthy successor of the “Final Fantasy” legacy? The answer is… yes. Though “Lost Odyssey” has many flaws, it fares remarkably well in upholding the series’ concepts and production values. Everything one would expect from a “Final Fantasy” is present. Yet, “Final Fantasy” has always been a series that, in each episode, went further in the genre and “Lost Odyssey” feels exactly the opposite: it tries to go back to the roots of the genre. At first, that might be a letdown, but after crying endless times from reading every “1000 Years of Memories” and watching the gorgeous cutscenes, you’ll understand what Sakaguchi is trying to say with his game: why go forward, when the dramatic potential of the genre is still underachieved? “Lost Odyssey” is Sakaguchi’s greatest masterpiece, a game so heartbreaking, profound and beautiful that it fully deserves the title of “The (real) Final Fantasy”.

Overall: 5/5

Number 3: Yoshinori Kitase

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Of all the developers in this list, Kitase should’ve been the one with the most notorious name, but sadly, he got completely overshadowed by his mentor: Hironobu Sakaguchi. Kitase, as a writer and director, is behind the 4 more influential and well regarded RPGs in gaming history: “Chrono Trigger”, “Final Fantasy VI”, “VII” and “VIII”. So you see why he should be better known to the grand audience: just as Sakaguchi had been the father of the classic RPG genre, Kitase became the father of its modern current. And though his style feels like an evolution of Sakaguchi’s, he improved on many aspects of the formula and added a few twists of his own.

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The first thing that pops up when you look at Kitase’s RPG’s, is the change of a predominantly high-fantasy scenario to a mix of sci-fi and fantasy. In earlier “Final Fantasies” technology existed, but magic clearly had a more important role in the development of the plot; with Kitase, technology and magic were seen side by side, as two faces of the same coin. Though this is probably a shallow change, since the allegoric meaning of magic or technology remained the same (a representation of Man’s power and thus, a danger to the planet and Humanity), the fact is that it ended up establishing an iconic, aesthetical and conceptual trademark that would later be replicated in nearly every other RPG.

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But what really made him a great developer, was the way he deepened the narrative aspects of the genre. Though he followed Sakaguchi’s approach, of focusing the narrative on emotional “motifs”, he also complicated the plot mechanisms used to move things along. When you look back, Sakaguchi’s stories were no more than simple bed-time fantasy stories, where an evil man wants to destroy the world, and a couple of specially gifted magic-users fight back. All you had to do, as a character, was to follow the trail of the big baddie, from point A to point B (repeated “ad infinitum”), until you could terminate the threat; along the way the big bad evil monsters would destroy villages and kill some of the good guys, but in the end, good would triumph over evil; all in all, it was a very simplistic, straightforward narrative (even if at the time, it was the best you could find in a console). Kitase’s narratives are much more complex and above all, are highly manipulative, in an “Hitchcockian” kind of way: they’re conceived so that the flow of information can be controlled, allowing the director to effectively influence the gamer into believing certain facts, while hiding important plot details for a grand, exciting twist afterwards. From the memorable destruction of the Earth in “FFVI”, to the multiple fates of “Chrono Trigger”, not forgetting Cloud and Sephiroth’s mysterious past, every Kitase story is filled with complex and interesting plot twists. These are, of course, essential in capitalizing the focus of the audience, which becomes all the more engrossed if the stories are twisted and unpredictable. Add to that the emotional side of Sakaguchi’s stories, and you can begin to understand why everyone who played his games, fondly remembers Cloud and Barrett’s environmentalist struggle to save the world or Squall’s undying love for Rinoa (in what is probably the only good love-story ever to grace a videogame).

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Story-telling also took a slight shift from Sakaguchi’s games; Kitase opted for an epic and operatic overtone in his games, in direct opposition to Sakaguchi’s more intimate and somewhat “fairy tale-ish” approach. This tone was largely imbued in the cutscenes that bolstered a cinematic flair into the game, turning it into a more dynamic and touching way of getting across to players. It is hard to forget such memorable moments as the openings or endings from his “Final Fantasies”, or the all too famous death of Aeris. Of course, without the technology he had at his disposition, it would be hard to convey what he did, but still, he potentiated the means at his disposal with a far greater success than anyone else. He also deviated the style of the art department from Sakaguchi’s lines, by using a more anime-like art design, in charge of Tetsuya Nomura, and a more epic and grandiose soundtrack by series’ veteran Nobuo Uematsu. The result blended perfectly with Kitase’s more cinematic and epic outlines, giving the franchise exactly what it needed: a slightly more mature aesthetic.

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In the end, whatever your view of Kitase is, you have to admit it: he is one of the genre’s most influential developers: he opened up the world to the genre, by giving it a more complex and mature narrative structure, a different aesthetic goal, and taking advantage of the CD-medium to create highly-stylized cinematic cutscenes. If you’re a fan of RPG’s, than you’re definitely in love with at least one of his games, but chances are that you’re in love with all of his games. Today, if you think about a JRPG, you don’t think about childish and endearing bedtime stories, you imagine epic, complex and touching narratives, just like the ones Yoshinori Kitase told… when everyone else was still dreaming about the idea.

Number 4 – Hironobu Sakaguchi

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Sakaguchi-san is probably the only J-RPG developer most people know about. This is mainly due to the fact that he is the creator of the Square’s mythic Final Fantasy series. What most people don’t know is that the he only led the development of episodes I till V, with the most popular games from the Square brand, like “Chrono Trigger” or the modern themed “Final Fantasies”, being developed by a different man [we’ll get to him later]. The truth is: Sakaguchi-san’s most important contribution to the genre is the genesis of the Final Fantasy series, and not the popularization of the series outside Japan. From FFVI and beyond, he merely served as an Executive Producer for the franchise, which basically means he was the suit in charge of development control. Though in tradition with Japanese management, the man in that position also serves as a form of spiritual leader and manager, he is not, by any means, the main artist behind the game. His legacy, from episode VI forward, is of a much more abstract and philosophical nature, it’s still rather important, but not as much as most people think. Believe me when I say: FFVII is not this man’s work; it’s got his influences, but it is not his artistic endeavor. This is clearly evidenced by the remarkably different styles FFVI, VII and VIII show when compared to older Final Fantasies (that were directed by him).

Besides being the lead developer in the first FF’s, he also had a major contribution in FFIX, by creating the original concept of the game, which basically tries (and succeeds) in recapturing much of the series’ more classic trademarks. After executive producing FFX-2, he departed Square (for non-spoken reasons) to form Mistwalker, a Microsoft funded developer, from which three RPG’s have surfaced: “Blue Dragon”, “Lost Odyssey” and “Archaic Sealed Heat” (unreleased outside Japan).

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Throughout his long career, he laid down many of the foundations that all J-RPG’s follow. So, if he is one of the “de facto” creators of the genre, it probably seems strange to put him in the bottom tier of this list. This has to do with my personal view of his art, more than with his importance in the means (if this list was about that, he would definitely be on the first or second place). My problem with Sakaguchi’s games is that they usually portray the world with a rather “naife” and optimistic view, which despite being normal in the realm of fantasy-themed universes, is taken to a somewhat exaggerated extreme. “Good vs. Evil” is what his stories are all about; the very good, versus the very evil. This moral extreme tends to infantilize the narrative, by siding “pure” characters against evil doers that want to rule/destroy the world, for basically, no reason at all. Apart from the recent “Lost Odyssey”, that breaks the mold on some levels (emphasize *some*), all of Sakaguchi’s games can be easily fitted in the Monomyth theory perfectly. It’s a very, very traditional way of telling stories. Traditional is, in fact, the best adjective for Sakaguchi’s games. They follow traditional Japanese values; they regard the world in a traditional, classicist, moralistic way; the art therein used (whether its Yoshitaka Amano’s, or some other’s) depicts classic themes, and even the gameplay mechanics are extremely traditional, especially when seen according to today’s standards. He does tend to shake things up little by little, step by step, but he downright avoids abrupt innovation.

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But, if I disliked him so much, why would he make it into this list… for name-sake only? Surely not. First, he is the man who placed story as the main focus of J-RPG’s; for that fact only he must be revered. By doing so, he completely changed the way the genre was explored, giving a much need complexity to the basic “Dragon Quest” themed story: little boy saves princess from evil dragon. Though his stories might seem simple and somewhat dull today, they were progressive and innovative by the time they first appeared, and most of all, they were actual stories that were told by videogames, something unthinkable back in the 80’s.

Sakaguchi saw in games a mean of translating the most basic and powerful human feelings: the bound of friendship and family, the love for one’s nation, its core values, culture and philosophies. These themes are always conveyed in some way in his games, and though in earlier ventures they are treated a bit childishly, they usually have a significant emotional impact on the player. Sakaguchi’s tales of undying friendship and love manage to turn text and pixels into touching characters, stories and worlds, where imagination, fantasy and dreams become reality. It‘s never very deep or complex when compared to a movie or book, but at the time that was already a huge step forward for narrative in videogames.

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Of course, it helped that he had such great artists under his wings, like Nobuo Uematsu or Yoshitaka Amano. It’s also thanks to them that his stories have profound sentimental impact, and stimulate people’s imagination far beyond what crude abstract graphics could accomplish back in the day. Besides telling endearing stories, Sakaguchi also managed to go further in the ways of exploring narrative. Most likely influenced by Anime and Cinema, he became one of the fathers of in-game cutscenes, a concept far from being idealized by the time “Final Fantasy” appeared, let alone implemented in a game. These short story sequences, where characters would play out scenes like in a play, with appropriate music setting the tone, helped the story feel more like a fully fledged dramatic narrative, transmitting emotions and actions far more deep than the ones the player could interact with. Though not very important at the time of the first “Final Fantasies”, this ended up becoming a staple for every J-RPG.

Sakaguchi is as important to J-RPG’s as Tolkien is to fantasy novels; though there had been similar works before (“Dragon Quest”, “Ultima”), it took Sakaguchi to fully develop the potential of the genre. Its motifs, ideas and values are all consequence of this man’s thoughts and concepts. It is because of him that nowadays, nobody thinks of RPG’s as mere dungeon crawlers, but as larger than life fantasy adventures, filled with charming characters, deep plotlines and highly complex magical worlds. If games today can have narrative as its main driving force, then it’s probably because Sakaguchi’s made “Final Fantasy”; that’s his greatest legacy and the reason why he deserves all the praise the gaming world can give him.