“An odd little game that tries to be something special”
Odd. It’s a word that almost describes itself. In this world there is no shortage of things that come off as odd, whether it’s the creatures that inhabit it or the creations of mankind it’s safe to say that odd is here to stay. Really, can anyone explain to me why bread is square and bologna is round? Regardless of what kind of spin one puts on it to satisfy their curiosity, we often poke fun at things that are strange because we often lack the words to define them. They’re just “odd” and that’s all there is to it.
Still, when it comes to video games – a boundless arena where one’s imagination is pretty much allowed to roam free completely uninhibited – one can’t play more than five minutes without encountering a few oddities. Some of these are self-created, like my indecisive feelings towards Final Fantasy IV. I’d love to know the reasons why this game feels so alien to me when I play it but the answers just escape me. I can’t understand my immunity towards a game that easily deserves the acclaim it has received over the years. Even crazier still is how I can embrace a flawed piece of work like Final Fantasy II. One would think that the game that was actually deemed strong enough to be localized the first time around would go down a lot smoother than one that was brought over in a late-era PS1 remake a decade later. Perplexing as the whole situation is in reality, I know the problem lies more with me than it does with either game.
Fortunately there are times where the exact opposite holds true, times where things are more attractive because they are odd. I’m sure anybody who is familiar with gaming could easily come with half a dozen with very little thought. That said, considering the point being discussed here there is only one title that fills the bill: Harmony of Dissonance. Why Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance? Well, like Final Fantasy above the answer is far from simple but much easier to postulate. Blunt as it may seem, map design is something Castlevania has struggled with to various degrees since Symphony of the Night, the original “Castleroid.” There was something about the layout of Dracula’s Castle in that game that was brimming with intelligence, something the eventual follow-ups couldn’t tap into. While Harmony of Dissonance did little to fight this feeling, it had its own intangible x-factor, a constant sensation that something was off. This (and its strange color palette) ultimately made the game more memorable than it would have been otherwise.
So what does all of this have to do with Final Fantasy: The 4 Heroes of Light? Well, a lot because The 4 Heroes of Light is also weird game. How weird? Weird enough to make one question the fact that “Final Fantasy” is present in the title. Does Matrix’s stab at a Final Fantasy benefit from being “odd” or does it only add to the bottomless list of products that use the moniker to attract consumer attention? That’s a good a question as any….
Sights and Sounds
As odd as it may seem, the first element of Final Fantasy: The 4 Heroes of Light that made its impression on me was the music. In being a huge fan of video game music, it may have only been natural for me to focus on this aspect of the game, but in no sense is it an automatic response when taking in video-based entertainment. That said, a few hours in I was dying to know who the lead composer was. Why? Crazy as it sounds I was curious as to who could write something so fitting yet so underwhelming. It couldn’t have been Nobuo Uematsu, who even in the twilight of his career could compose circles around something this bland and serviceable. Anyway, a bit of research later I came up with the name Naoshi Mizuta, something that wasn’t too surprising given how far this game is from being a legitimate part of the series numbered continuity.
So why would I start this review by critiquing Mizuta’s work, a body of work that fails to make a name for itself? Because it exemplifies how the vast majority of elements that make up The 4 Heroes of Light work but are ultimately conflicted. Agreeable as the score is to the world it represents it has the uncanny “gift” of getting into trouble here and there. One of the best illustrations is when the music shifts in battle when one of the player’s characters is in critical condition. Considering how many RPG’s have gotten by without the employment of such a technique it’s as harsh and unnecessary as it sounds. A similar event occurs in boss fights when a boss’ hit points get low. Generally that’s a bit more useful even though it still falls into the realm of superfluous. Other issues, like the games over dependence on key tracks during the second half of the game, also take their toll and, perhaps most telling of all, is how flaccid the Dragon Harp jingle is.
The above situation applies to the game’s art direction as well. While I can’t imagine saying that character designer Akihiko Yoshida’s work is bad (it did have somewhat of a unique charm to in Final Fantasy III) it certainly leaves a lot to be desired here. For the lack of a better phrase it feels second rate and at the end of day I’d have a real hard time calling anything in The 4 Heroes of Light beautiful – drawn or rendered. If anything, it looks like a mishmash ambitions (similar and otherwise) that I’ve seen elsewhere. However, I will admit I’ve always had odd relationships with games that employ a dull color palette. Breath of Fire IV on the original PlayStation is great example; it’s washed out colors clashing with the bright colors Capcom used throughout the first three games. I can’t say the darker tones make the game less attractive when it comes to my personal hierarchy (of which Breath of Fire games are my favorite) yet the possibility exists. Another game that immediately comes to mind when presented with art of The 4 Heroes of Light is 1999’s Legend of Mana. Despite the fact that the bright and bold world presented in Legend of Mana is the exact opposite of what’s presented here, both games are obviously geared towards creating a mystical fairytale feel. Unfortunately for this game, Mana’s color palette makes it much more attractive even though it too is a conflicted creation.
Character Conundrum
The 4 Heroes of Light also runs into some trouble with its story and characterization. Most of the time the game is good at letting you know what your characters are thinking (something that’s achieved by having your characters split up when visiting towns much like a private action in Star Ocean) but there are times where the dialog seems to skip over or botch emotional extremes. For the sake of all that’s good and holy I expect a much more believable expression of grief after a plague has befallen Horne than “what the hell, at least we’re fine, screw it, let’s just leave.” Yet ironically, it’s this exact same “harshness” that fuels the characters personalities for the first half of the game and makes them a lot more interesting than they’d be otherwise. Brandt, Jusqua, Yunita and Aire are not exactly the most likeable people in world when the game opens and, oddly enough, the character introductions are very honest about that. I found something strangely genuine about that. What I enjoyed even more than that was how certain characters (especially Jusqua and Arie) bickered with one another. As silly as it sounds such interaction added a level of realism that most role-playing games tend to gleam over in favor of overall focus.
Unfortunately, like all good things this comes to an end. There’s a moment near the halfway point where the scenario takes on that typical, super-sappy “we’ve grown so much since we were last together” thing that tends to invade all role-playing games. I understand the importance of these characters putting their problems with one another behind them to focus on the tasks at hand but do they have to literally tell me that in a block of text? Having them tell me that they’ve grown – instead of showing me – only cheapens the experience and destroys the relevance of such epiphanies. Weak-kneed at this moment truly is (in all honesty it’s terrible and hard to swallow) the game does a surprisingly good job at burying it in the back of the player’s mind with some of the later revelations. Still, entertaining as some of twists end up being one will find the plot is in league with older Final Fantasies and lacks the complexity to compete with that of a full-fledged console-based title. In a certain sense I guess I’m “prettying up” what the story has to offer because in reality it doesn’t ask a whole lot of the player but then I can’t real consider it a real flaw as most handheld titles tend to be shorter and self-contained.
Fight or Flight
Whereas previous sections have focused on areas where The 4 Heroes of Light falls in line with the status quo, combat presents the player with the one area where the game manages to mix things up. Combat is a turned based affair that throws out the concept of MP in exchange for a similar yet different ability point based system. Each command or spell consumes a set amount of AP with one point being refreshed at the start of each round. Also of vast importance are battle messages, snippets of information presented on the bottom screen that gives the player the most recent data on which effects (buffs) have been activated and which ones need to be recast. Another departure is the implementation of auto targeting. Physical attacks automatically target the front row of the enemy party while spells automatically target the back.
Of all these changes the one that is most likely to strike doubt in the heart of potential players is the auto targeting. I was skeptical at first but the game handles it pretty well. I’ll admit there where times where I would have liked to have more control over what ally was resurrected or which character had their status abnormality cured but these sacrifices are ultimately necessary in making the enemy encounters in the 4 Heroes of Light as brief as possible. Why does combat need to as brief as possible? As simple and quick as combat seems at the start of the game it is quickly bogged down by commands you’ll constantly back with buffs. These “buffs” lengthen battles considerably and make combat a rather formulaic endeavor despite the vast number of choices the class system provides. There are only so many classes that can get away without self-buffing (these generally tend to be physical-oriented classes who rely on other characters and classes to do that for them) so there is no real way to depart from this style of gameplay; you’ll constantly be buffing, attacking and boosting (defending to restore AP) to fuel your offense/defense.
Another aspect affecting the game’s combat is the handoff between the first and second “worlds.” Enemies in the first world have set levels and statistics and can only be as powerful as they start out; the opposite holds true for enemies in the second world where your adversaries level up and scale with the level of the party. This means after a certain point it is senseless to try and overpower a boss solely by gaining levels. Different as this approach is, it really flies in the face of common sense, making one question why a game (and a development team) would employ such a dramatic shift in an experience system midway through a game. Why not just implement it from the beginning? Like combat itself I’ll concede it manages to work to a point, but the switch eventually plays havoc with the accuracy of certain classes, creating a slight mess that seems to come and go as it pleases. Regardless, there are moments where both systems show their inadequacies.
Still, perhaps the most problematic aspect of battles is the over reliance on elementals. Most role-playing fans are familiar with the concepts that make ice creatures weak towards fire spells and make machines susceptible to lightning. These general “rules” may change a little between games but the general science usually holds true. Anyway, after the switch above takes place the practice of elementals takes on a whole new importance in The 4 Heroes of Light. Before this point it’s nice to have the correct elemental shield to block a given boss’ biggest spells but it literally becomes mandatory in the second half as is attacking with the correct element to adjust for the increased boss hit point totals. What makes this such a chore is that prior to fighting a boss (unless you’ve beaten the game before) you’re not going to know what element to protect against/attack with. So this means a lot of trial and error since a) you can’t change equipment during battle b) you can only carry so much equipment to begin with and c) most enemies have physical attacks are infused with unseen elemental aspects.
The literal abuse of elemental combat above (and the broken yet lifesaving application of the Elementalist class) also tries back into something learned in Matrix’s reworking of Final Fantasy III: if you know what’s good for you do NOT ignore the magic defense statistic. Really, you don’t want to see what happens when a character lacking in this department is tagged by a spell. Also adding the vast list of idiosyncrasies seen in combat is the reality that attacks don’t do a static amount of damage. Damage for the same attack can vary wildly from turn to turn for no real reason - even if you hit an enemy’s weak spot.
Delightful Dungeons?
Despite the title of this section (I only named it that so I could employ some sweet alliteration) exploring dungeons is actually another thing The 4 Heroes of Light does right. Unfortunately, as if it’s any surprise, it’s complicated by the problems above – especially the elemental problem which may have you leaving a dungeon here or there for the correct gear. Regardless, the developers took note of the limited on-hand inventory space and avoided loading the dungeons to the brim with treasure. You may have to make a decision on what to keep every once in a while (especially when combined with enemy drops) but you won’t be stressing over what and what not to keep or leaving a dungeon over and over to store items at the storage shop. The bite-sized dungeons go well with the inventory system and shows one an area where designer forethought finally coincides with the current reality.
That being said, dungeons really don’t bring the goods graphically or intellectually. Considering how The 4 Heroes of Light tries to emulate older games more than newer ones (again, it’s no accident that the game shares several similarities to Final Fantasy III) this may be another area where being hypercritical may be ill-advised. Still, there are times where the dungeon concepts wreak of desperation. In fact, one dungeon is more-or-less ripped straight out of Breath of Fire II. I know Capcom doesn’t have complete jurisdiction over that specific “kind” of dungeon but it’s so close in spirit it’s not even funny.
Working Class Warfare
Given how Matrix worked on the DS remake of Final Fantasy III, it should come as no surprise that The 4 Heroes of Light employs a similar yet slightly different job system. Rest assured the classes everyone has grown up with are accounted for, but some of them are a bit redefined and repackaged to make things a bit more intriguing. However, the real change occurs in how the player expands upon their powers. Rather than relying on an age-old concept like a numerical level that’s based on accumulating a set number of experience points or performing so many actions, The 4 Heroes of Light takes a cue from Final Fantasy X’s sphere grid. Abilities (or commands) are unlocked by placing “gems” into “crowns.” Crowns are basically fancy sets of headgear that grant your characters their classes or jobs. It’s actually pretty satisfying to place your gems into these crowns but the appeal is ultimately limited by the number of gems you have on hand. Enemies have a set percentage at which they drop certain gems but there never seems to be enough to go around, something that prohibits any real, unbridled exploration of the classes available.
While there is little doubt you’ll be grinding for gems at one point or another, gems also come in handy when it comes to upgrading equipment. Upgrading the attack and defense parameters on weapons and armor is the only way to get ahead of the curve in the second half of the game proves to be essential when tackling the bonus content. Still, if I were to cry fowl about any one aspect of The 4 Heroes of Light it would be how one is expected to make money. One doesn’t receive money from winning battles but by selling off their extra goods. From a straightforward point of view this is a clever approach, but from the view of your typical completionist it is an utter nightmare. For those wanting to complete the game with one of every item (there is actually a reward for this to boot) enemy drops take on a whole new level of importance.
Yea or Nay?
After all this talk you’re probably wondering what my final take on Final Fantasy: The 4 Heroes of Light is. Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is despite all the problems contained within I actually had a pretty good time and I look forward to replaying it at some point down the road. The bad news? As much as I enjoyed it I find I have to be honest and be a bit harsh while judging it. Still, while some will see the resulting six out of ten as a sign of failure nothing could be further from the truth. Sometimes ratings are just that – ratings. Ratings are not always an accurate way to calculate the intangibles that occasionally work their way into the equation. Oddly enough this is one of those times.
“The kind of game you want to hate… until it grows on you.”
Final Fantasy III: a title that can mean two different things. On one hand, Final Fantasy III refers to the now outdated and somewhat disfavored title of the SNES version of Final Fantasy VI. On the other, Final Fantasy III refers to the real Final Fantasy III, a twenty-one year old Famicom game that was never officially released in any market outside Japan, a fate its immediate predecessor Final Fantasy II once shared. Also on the list of previously unreleased, missing-in-action titles was Final Fantasy V.
Be that as it may, most fans know this page of history by now and how fallible a philosophy it was to renumber these games in the first place. Still, while three of the six games in the series were unavailable outside of Japan before the launch of Final Fantasy VII, the missing episodes would get their shot at western audiences in the years that followed. Final Fantasy V would be released in the Anthologies package and a remastered edition of Final Fantasy II would accompany the original adventure in 2003’s Origins. Both games would even see a few re-releases in the future on the GBA and PSP, but the fact remained that Final Fantasy III was still relegated to it’s homeland outside a back alley option like emulation or flat-out importing.
As sobering as time can be in a predicament such as this, I’m sure I’m not the only one that found this to be quite bothersome. For the lack of a better analogy, it was akin to having a series of books only to have one missing right in the middle. Granted, given that each Final Fantasy is its own self-contained entity (well… they use to be before sequels became the in thing) it’s not like Final Fantasy III was a missing chapter in continuous story. However, I’m sure there are those who would use such a word to describe a missing installment given the over arching themes and influences. Thankfully, despite some of the sins they have perpetrated since the damaging yet life sustaining merger, SquareEnix decided to right this wrong by releasing an updated version of the game on the Nintendo DS.
Now given how late I am to the DS party, I was pretty sure I knew what I wanted to write about Final Fantasy III – a game that time has somewhat forgotten despite the facelift. About ten hours in I assumed I had enough information (or gripes) to do what I wanted: tear the game down and put another nail in the preverbal coffin of a series and company that has literally lost its way. Yet for some reason I waited; I didn’t start writing this a third of the way through the game like I planned – the one third of the game I had played in its original form years ago. I can’t really explain why I waited – that great mystery remains unsolved – but I’m glad I did. Not only did I save myself the time I would have spent rewriting this review in a more positive light, but I was reminded that first impressions are often lousy to begin with.
Recon Confliction
As with anything that receives a fresh coat of paint, Final Fantasy III on the Nintendo DS takes a few liberties with its source material. First off, this time the player’s characters are given default names and basic, cardboard cutout personas. It’s no longer a boy’s day out as one of the characters (Refia) has been designated as female – so no one can anyone call Final Fantasy III sexist anymore. Anyway, as PC as this is in reality, beyond that lies the second major change: the fact that you no longer start with a full party like the Famicom original. In falling down into Altar Cave with Luneth, the player will find they must wait a bit to get the other members of their party. Because of this, the events that follow are switched around a bit and the future aspects of the story are ultimately placed under more scrutiny. How much scrutiny? In the original all four “boys” were raised by Elder Topapa in the village of Ur. In this rendition, only two of the characters (Luneth and Arc) are raised by Topapa; the others (Refia and Ingus) are raised by the mythril blacksmith Takka and the citizens of Sasune. Now why does this change take center stage? Because it makes the game’s first twist even more implausible than it was before. We’re talking Final Fantasy VIII-esque bad and anyone who’s played both games should have an immediate clue as to what I’m talking about.
Okay, so attacking a plot point in a game this old is rather moot given there aren’t too many NES games that are known for their plot. Still, I point it out because as weak-kneed as this moment truly is, Final Fantasy III is able to make up for it with the revelations that follow even though they break no new ground. I’ll admit I’m not completely pleased with the bad guy who seems a little too content in sending out his various cronies while he sits in his castle when other Final Fantasy villains like Golbez actually got their hands dirty. Disappointing and disposable as he is in the end, I liked the reasons behind his actions even though I couldn’t really identify with them.
Freelancer Employment
Much like Final Fantasy V, Final Fantasy III employs a job system that grants the player a tremendous amount of freedom. Unlike the original Final Fantasy, your characters are not locked into their given class for the duration of the game. Now you can switch jobs on the fly (minus a brief, statistical-based penalty) and tweak your party to face the challenges in front of them. Generally, the game lets you make your own decisions, but there are times where the game will make a suggestion. These cues range from the subtle (like presenting the player with certain equipment at shops or in treasure chests) to the blatant blathering of a no-name NPC who rambles on and on about a particular class. These types of hints are really divided upon themselves because while they’re both intended to make your life easier, not following a major hint can really throw a kink in your progress - especially if it’s early in the game. Still, following the given advice may not be enough - you may need to compensate in other ways to accommodate the given situation.
Antagonizing as these moments are, I found I had a lot more success – and fun - blazing my own trail. Yet a lot of my success was due to certain classes proving way too useful. Perhaps more than any other Final Fantasy I can think of employing a Thief in my party was a pure pleasure and paid off huge dividends. Stick with the class long enough and you’ll see how easy it is to master it long before any other. Related to that success is just how invaluable it can be to wield two weapons. This is something I’ve often avoided in past Final Fantasies because it seemed somewhat unnatural not to have a shield but once you start scrapping enemies left and right you start to warm up to it. Another class worth its weight in gold is the Warrior. The game tries to offset the offensive power of the Advance command by lowering the defense of the character prior to it’s activation but such an attempt is futile – much like trying strike a balance between spell casting and attacking with the disappointing Red Mage.
While there are obviously some class/team set ups that won’t work, there really isn’t a “brick wall” point in the game for most classes when it comes to usefulness. I bring this up because the writers of the official strategy guide try to dive home the idea that once you enter the final stage of the game you need to give up on certain classes (like those from the crystal of wind) in order to advance. This simply isn’t true. Sure, you’ll want to upgrade your While/Black mages to the Devout/Magus classes in order to gain access to level eight magic (that’s a no-brainer) but that’s about it. I never encountered the “invisible wall” they alluded to until the last battle but that was due to other, rather ill-explained gameplay factors like…
…Magic Resistance? What’s That?
Most Final Fantasy veterans know that magic resistance is the statistic that determines how much damage their characters will take from a magical attack. In past games I (and others I’m sure) have looked at this number with secondary importance compared to things like attack power and physical defense. Well, those days are over. Magic resistance is of the utmost importance in Final Fantasy III because the field before magic resistance is even factored in is completely skewed. Confused? Let me explain…
In role-playing games (and in D&D where a lot of role-playing mechanics are lifted from) it is generally believed that a “magically oriented” character should take less damage from a magical attack than one that’s “physically oriented.” Okay, I’m not the smartest cookie on the face of the earth but I generally believe that makes sense to a certain degree – a magician should excel at defending against the kind of techniques they employ themselves. This idea can be seen in nearly every role-playing game in existence and Final Fantasy III is no exception. The problem? The degree to which it is practiced. On average, melee characters take five times more damage from a spell than their spell casting counterparts. That’s a four hundred percent difference! So if a spell does one-hundred points of damage to your spell caster (which excludes red mages) expect to see a five hundred pop up on your fighters. This is ridiculous in the purest sense of the word. At the most I would expect a spell to do 1.5 or double damage to a physical character at the most but five? The real kick in the pants is when your levels are high and spells start doing zero damage to your mages yet still take a sizable chunk out of your fighters.
Bad as this may seem, there’s more to the story. As much as I talked up dual wielding earlier forgoing dual wielding is actually the key in helping amend a fighter’s defense against spells. Despite the fact it doesn’t show it in the equip screen (the game only shows your physical defense power on this screen) equipping a shield will increase your magical resistance. You’ll have to switch between the equipment and status screens in the menu before and after to see the difference numerically but its there. Anyway, while this helps the situation (trust me, it makes the last fight a heck of a lot easier) the gap between fighters and mages is still quite wide in this respect despite what the numbers would have you believe. My suggestion? Feel free to dual wield during random encounters but ditch the extra weapons for shields during boss fights. It’s amazing how the additional damage adds up and causes a nightmare scenario for your healer. Random encounters are usually over before they begin and if you focus on eliminating spell casting foes first there really is no threat. As for the boss-fest that is the end of the game it’s best to drop the extra weaponry altogether and opt for shields – the extra bit of resistance is invaluable and the weapons you have at the point should be more than enough to get you through despite being solo affairs. The official strategy guide suggests this in its section on the final confrontation but doesn’t really explain it fully.
Another Final Fantasy Completed!
Despite the bump in the road that is magic resistance, I enjoyed my time with Final Fantasy III. While I don’t really enjoy being schooled I’m glad the game put me in my place for wanting to fire a volley in its direction solely based on the company that made it. Still, Final Fantasy III doesn’t succeed because of its facelift (in fact, a remastered version of the game like Final Fantasy I & II on the PS1/GBA/PSP would have been fine if not better) but because the core game is worth experiencing despite all the advancements the genre has seen since its original debut. I won’t deny all the faults listed above, but if a game like Final Fantasy II can still work despite its myriad of problems than who’s to say Final Fantasy III can’t as well?
“Yeah, it’s good… but can we please keep things in perspective?”
When it comes to me and music, things have been in a major state of upheaval the last few years. Gone are the days where I could pick up the latest release from a given band and enjoy it without reservation. Yet it’s uncanny how many of these bands – most of them hailing from the European school of heavy metal – have fallen by the wayside; how many of them can be summed up with a small handful of selections from some very large catalogs. I’ll admit that cutting through the musical clutter accumulated over the last decade has been kind of nice, but a part of me misses the days when a lot more of this stuff was still viable.
Be that as it may, regret is only natural when one is parting ways with something that was a large part of who you were. Moving on is never easy, even when you don’t know you are, but then the situation is hardly one-dimensional. As much as I pine for the days when this stuff suited me more, I also miss the days when I could listen to a new album and not have it come off as an aimless mass of instrumentation. Yet if every album since Sonata Arctica’s Unia has taught me anything it’s that the likelihood of this not happening is next to nil. It’s only after a dozen or so listens that the proceeding finally comes together.
So what does all of this have to do with Imaginaerum? Well, pretty much everything because despite how much clout the Nightwish name brings with it Imaginaerum – and Nightwish’s material – isn’t immune to such decay. Okay, I’ll admit I’m always in the mood for a “Deep Silent Complete” or a rousing “Ghost Love Score” but the simple truth is I can leave ninety-nine percent of the band’s Turunen era material to the ages at this point. Additionally, the second part of the conundrum explained above proved true as well: Imaginaerum initially coming off as a potluck of ideas and ambitions that initially seemed displeasing.
Anyways, with first impressions pretty much shot to hell, the first thing that really stuck me about Imaginaerum was how the ethnic flair heard in tracks like “I Want My Tears Back” was more or less “borrowed” from the concluding tracks of Dark Passion Play. Actually, saying it was borrowed is putting how I viewed it nicely – it really felt like it was ripped-off. I know that sounds silly, not allowing a band to emulate something it quote unquote cultivated, but given the sense of pride Nightwish puts into each album and making each one a unique entity this hardly seemed like something one would have to deal with given the four year period between releases.
The backwards step that was aside, Imaginaerum battled back ever so slowly. The first single (“Storytime”) was pretty much a no-brainer of a creation, a solid tune that holds no real surprises and doesn’t ask too much of the listener. As for the remainder of the album its acceptance teetered on whether or not I could get past not having any context to chew on given the increase of film score influences. Given that there’s a story going on with these tracks it’s kind of hard to see this release as an “album” (in the traditional sense) and not a soundtrack – at least at first. With such an obstacle in the way, it really falls on tracks like “Arabesque” and the instrumental parts of other tracks to break down the wall and forge a connection with the listener as items like the blues influenced “Love, Slow, Love” and seemingly congested “Ghost River” can’t really change perceptions on a dime.
Still, as for when the album turned the corner between chaotic mess and melodic marvel I am still unsure. All I know is that the tracks that seemed to get lampooned for their brief moments of lyrical “oddballness” turned out to be the best tracks. I love when Anette says “the bride will love you, cook you, eat you!” in “Scaretale” and as silly as it sounds out of context saying “an old man gets naked and dances with a model doll in his attic” it actually makes sense within the second half of “Song of Myself.” These tracks are ironically targeted for criticism by listeners for other reasons as well but those are the things that make them stand out. Yes, one can say Anette’s voice is stretched thin by the vocal approach used in “Scaretale;” yes, about half of “Song of Myself” is more of a monologue than an actual song but then I wouldn’t change these tracks for anything.
After discovering that the album’s highest highs where what some considered its lowest lows everything else started to fall into place. I neither craved that context I was looking for earlier nor did I mind the elements I perceived to be “stolen” from Dark Passion Play. The delectable burn of a track like “Slow, Love, Slow” became more than apparent and finally the last domino to fall was the stubborn “Ghost River,” sounding nowhere near as awkward as it initially did.
So, in the end, the story ends with sunshine and rainbows despite its glum beginnings. At the outset of this review I broke down the trouble I had with this album and genre in general, but there’s another problem that it and Nightwish face that’s all about perception and specifically deals with the fans. What’s the problem? That when a new Nightwish album comes out a large portion of the people reviewing it act like the previous albums mean squat. I get it, you’re excited - especially given the long wait for this one but (and this is going to sound hypocritical coming from someone’s that’s become disinterested in the band’s older material) this isn’t the musical equivalent of the Madden video game. The latest “version” (or in this case “album”) doesn’t make the last one completely obsolete. In other words, as good as Imaginaerum is, it doesn’t make Dark Passion Play any less important and I shouldn’t have to explain why that is so. So for the sake of everything that is good and holy, do not call Dark Passion Play Imaginaerum’s “practice run.” That’s complete and utter garbage and it doesn’t give a great album – and what it represents – it’s due.
Conclusion:
My ill feelings for some of the dribble “fans” write aside, Imaginaerum proves I’m not willing to give up on the genre – or Nightwish - just yet. As annoying as it’s become to have and “dig” for the enjoyment a given album can bring, I can safely say the end result is more satisfying because of it. Additionally, like the slight change in style Sonata Arctica debuted on Unia, the switch from Tarja to Anette was a change I didn’t know I wanted until I was presented with it and “got it.” Thankfully, for all intensive purposes, I still “get it.”
As odd as it may seem to some considering how many video games I have squirreled away in my closet, I want to take some time and talk about a downtrodden title that is of little consequence to most: SaGa Frontier.
Why take the time to talk about SaGa Frontier, a game that was – quite literally – left in the dust despite the massive upheaval and embrace Final Fantasy VII managed to create for the genre outside its port of origin? Well it’s simple: I’m a fan. Outside the aforementioned Final Fantasy VII (maxing materia for the various master materia) and Blizzard’s Diablo II (moo!) I don’t think there’s a game that’s consumed my gaming hours like SaGa Frontier did. Okay, that “140 hours of gameplay” they boast about on the back is a bit bogus (it takes what, about eight to ten hours to clear any given scenario with a group of adequately powered characters; times that by seven and it takes roughly half the touted time) but like most I wasn’t typically happy with just beating a scenario. No. I always wanted to see how powerful I could make my team. Hit the hit-point cap of nine hundred ninety-nine? Can’t resist. Try and get every sword/fighting/gun technique outside Dragon Turn (oh don’t even get me started on Dragon Turn!) on my human characters? Definitely, expect nothing less from one of my files thirty to sixty hours later.
Still, this piece isn’t about how buff one can make their characters (which is pretty fun) but about an aspect of SaGa Frontier that was left out to dry. While some are obviously screaming “the whole game was” right now I’m a little more focused in my pursuits. What am I talking about? It’s not really one particular element per say but rather how the elements in the game are explained – or rather how they were left unexplained. Looking at the manual for the game and comparing it to those from other role-playing games like Legend of Legaia or anything else on the market at the time does anyone see this as the giant FU that it is? Sure, we get some “bare bones” idea of what some of the game’s systems do but beyond that SaGa pretty much leaves the player to their own devices. It’s a lot like an inept father giving a child a bike and saying “ah, screw it, you’ll figure it out.” This pretty much sums up SaGa Frontier to a lot of Western gamers: fiddle around, “feel out” the situation, get murdered and form the hypothesis that you’re not meant to do “this particular” thing yet. So you’ll come back later. Also popular is the whole “don’t save here! Point of no return! Quicksave only!”
Now, I don't point this out to paint SaGa in a bad light. Hell, part of what I like about the game is the sheer lack of direction even though there is a finite list of things to do. The real reason I point this out is because where the manual dropped the ball on really explaining the mechanics of the game’s world Brady’s official guide could have picked up the slack. That would have been the smart thing to do and would have made Brady’s guide a little more than the semi-memorable footnote in the minds of SaGa Frontier fans. Nice as that would be, we all know how this story ends, the player being thrown into the pages covering Riki’s scenario as fast as it takes to turn past the acknowledgements page.
So what does this lack of explanation (which fans have been more than willing to make up for on sites like GameFAQ with their own text-based guides and through reverse engineering) have to do with modern reality? Not much, in fact the idea that SaGa might have caught on with a wider audience with a more concise explanation of it’s in and outs is pretty much moot, but it calls to attention this really isn’t the case in Japan where the game has some stellar media documenting how complex of a game it really is.
Enter “The Essence of SaGa Frontier” and “The Complete of SaGa Frontier” by Studio Bent Stuff. While “The Complete of SaGa Frontier” takes on the role of Brady’s strategy guide to a much greater extent (which is hardly a surprise given the quality of Japanese goods) “The Essence of SaGa Frontier” is something else entirely. Everything a SaGa Frontier fan could want is in this book; from a scenario recap that explains how all the quest eventually tie together (hey, Slime IS important!) to the real ending to Blue/Rouge’s game (and who acquired which magic and won the one-on-one duel) and much, much more. Working with the limited knowledge I had of the book before purchasing it, I thought it be an artbook first and everything else second. Boy was I wrong. Despite the fact I can’t read even an inch of it’s text to save my life (if there was ever a moment outside video game music soundtrack tracklistings that made me want to know Japanese this is it!) it’s easy to tell even beyond the illustrations that The Essence does the game justice – even the parts that didn’t make it into the final product!
Regardless, a truly comprehensive of this book a still a long ways off even fourteen years after the fact. Granted I can’t see someone translating all 336 pages of this thing (that’s excluding the illustration section) but the tidbits of this book that have made their way onto the internet in English – interesting as they may be – are hardly enough. Let’s hope someone out there corrects that some day….
“An odd little game that tries to be something special”
