*Spoilers*
I think that is a grossly innacurate description of a great game with a GREAT story. So it doesn't have a main love story to it? It's a story about politics, which never really shows who the real bad guy is until late.
I don't think I mentioned the lack of a love story so that doesn't reflect any of the problems I found with the game. In fact, FFXII has at minimum two love stories although neither is quite well-developed. The game begins with a wedding after all. But I don't believe a great political story needs any romance factor to prop it up and never implied that. The problem here is that I wouldn't call FFXII a "great" political story by any means. It has all of the ingredients but lacks a recipe.
To be fair, no FF has had a worse story than 8,9, and X-2, which I lump them together for being completely god-awful to rationally thinking human beings.
I think that is correct when considered in pure story terms. FFX-2 is a bizarre and freakish nightmare of a game, right from the get-go with Priestess Yuna dressed up as Britney Spears for a trash pop concert, Former Al-Bhed officer Rikku's uncharacteristically soft-porn displays, and their butch admirer Paine thrown in for good measure. Though some parts of it were fun and I like the gameworld to begin with, I can't defend the game cause it's a huge disservice to FFX.
FFVIII as I see it wasn't about a great spinning story so much as it was about character growth and human bonds. That approach doesn't sit well with everybody, but I found it pretty well done for what it was. It had a few turns that were unpredictable and unique, most notably the orphanage episode. The raw plot sequence itself was nothing like the twisted road of FFVII, but I don't think that was a failure of narrative so much as it was an intentional decision to simply hone in on character growth, love, insecurity, and psyche (ie Squall). It seems to be the largest and most ambitious entry in the series to date and is very thorough, complete, and charismatic overall.
FFIX also doesn't carry any pretense of a great story. It was a straightforward coda and point of reflection for the series. Some games push the envelope, and then others fill it in. FFIX fell into the latter category for sure. I can't fault it for having a run-of-the-mill storyline (which I actually found more colorful and original than FFXII's, with the Lifa Tree, ridiculous Queen Braham, and Kuja as an above average villain) because its purpose was only to celebrate Final Fantasy's history.
So in sum, I agree with you that neither of the above have mind-blowing stories, but of those three, I would only consider FFX-2 to be a real failure.
I see from your reviews, you've played Suikoden, so you already know that a couple of other RPG series are the way to go for harder and more in-depth stuff.
Yes, and after 2006 Suikoden has officially replaced Final Fantasy as my favorite console RPG series.
While I give FFXII's "big picture"-centric storyline more credit than you would, it's still just an above-average RPG rather than the cream of the crop as previous games in the franchise were.
Suikoden V is indeed still the best RPG to be released in the recent past.
Well said. And I agree that Suikoden V is definitely the best RPG I've played in many years. Now there is a
great political story. Incidentally, Suikoden V is the title that won IGN's Best PS2 Story of 2006 over its Best PS2 RPG, Final Fantasy XII. Certainly the right call; the comparison is unequivocably lopsided in Suikoden's favor.
I don't think we played the same FFXII. The one I played was much better than what was described here.
Feel free to elaborate.
I respectfully disagree. I think the thematic motif of power versus self-determination was writ large in the story, from the introduction of Ashe's character in the early stages of the game. Committed to her late husband's cause and to avenging her kingdom, she couldn't take advantage of the chance to live out her life quietly and peacefully despite Marquis Ondore's best efforts. Instead Ashe is forced to chase after the power needed to restore her kingdom. This dilemma of self-determination becomes more grandiose in scope when she acquires Nethicite and must face for the first time the choice to use her newfound power to reduce Archadia to another Nabudis in the name of restoring Dalmasca's sovereignty, or whether to risk the kingdom's future in her search for another way. This theme becomes clearer still, and encompasses more than just Ashe, when the Occurians are introduced and it's revealed that human history and the balance of power between kingdoms is little more than the end product of the designs of engimatic godlike beings who dole out the power to rule and the power to destroy to their willing servants who are seduced into serving their agenda by the promise of power.
DA,
Your extraction of the story is clearly well processed and plausible. However, I am not convinced the game itself supports such a profound or deferential interpretation. While there are empirical elements and themes in Final Fantasy XII that may serve as springboards for more cosmic or philosophical lines of questioning as you raise, the same can be said of just about every game in the genre and beyond. A bright imagination can construct symbolism or links to broader concepts that bestow greater meaning upon any work of fiction that may or may not be justified by the creator's efforts. Despite the game's scattered tethers of a self-determination premise and its abrasive diversion of the storyline to "w00t! War of the deities!" (more below) I don't find the raw material worthy of the romanticized reading you've given it. In essence, that you are able to depict Final Fantasy XII so thoughtfully is more a testament to your own talent than anything the writers themselves have actually produced.
The figure of Venat is in many ways the most powerfully ironic illustration of this theme in the game. An Occurian itself, Venat seemingly defies the machinations of its peers and is ousted from Giruvegan and condemned as a heretic. In aligning itself with Vayne, Venat resorts to the very same manipulative tactics as the other Occurians; it directs the future of a kingdom by dangling a carrot on a stick in front of someone easily influenced by power. However, in the end it's revealed that while Venat's means may have been similar, its ends were completely different. On the deck of the Bahamut, Venat shows its goal all along was to destroy the source of Nethicite, restore the balance of power, and place the reins of history back in the hands of man.
This segment of the storyline is exactly what called to mind for me the concept of deus ex machina that I mentioned in the initial review. In fact, its definition is so painfully spot-on, I'll paste it here for emphasis.
http://www.webster.com/dictionary/deus%20ex%20machina
Main Entry: de·us ex ma·chi·na
Pronunciation: 'dA-&s-"eks-'mä-ki-n&, -'ma-, -"nä; -m&-'shE-n&
Function: noun
Etymology: New Latin, a god from a machine, translation of Greek theos ek mEchanEs
1 : a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek and Roman drama to decide the final outcome
2 : a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty Following Giruvegan, we have several powerful dangling plot threads that could easily provide the basis for a remarkable and unforgettable freefall of conflicts, revelations, and major personal/political realignments.
Among others, we have:
-Young widow Ashe's "dilemma"
-A yet (and unfortunately never realized) unintroduced political body and continent of Rozarria
-Ondore's curious repositioning as an open opponent of the Empire and hints of predilection towards Rozarria
-Likewise, Ondore's arguably occluded motivations, unexplained connection to Reddas, and role as narrator (what isn't he telling us?)
-A looming confrontation between Basch and his apparently nefarous and vengeful identical twin
-A maniacal loose force in Dr. Cid, incidentally Balthier's father, whose interests appear more grandiose than the Empire he serves
-Larsa as an inexplicably benevolent and optimistic inside ally of Dalmasca, ditto for Al-Cid
-Lingering remnants of a disbanded Senate, an executed judge (Drace), an assassinated Emperor and his first two sons
-An unexplored Necrohol of Nabudis and mystery enshrouding the true nature and purpose of its destruction
-The (ultimately forgotten once raised) suggestion that Rasler viewed his marriage to Ashe as a sterile political arrangement while she (more vulnerably) construed it as personal in nature
-Unresolved tension among the motley cast of the main group, notably Fran's jealous tinge of Ashe, whose ring Balthier still holds after its callous seizure
-A vague relationship among Mist, Jagd, Occuria, and the unusually sensitive Viera
-Several intriguing characters scattered about Ivalice, any of whom might have logically enjoyed a second run in the plot's limelight (Jote, Dalan, Migelo, Reddas' band, presumed dead Judges, a new regime in Mt. Bur-Omisace, etc.)
-12 fallen godlike insurgents clearly linked to the Occuria as evinced by Belias unsealing the door to Giruvegan
This is an extremely fertile conjugation of circumstances for storycraft. Needless to say, right there we have the basis for a truly spectacular unfolding of the latter half of the game, but instead the following sequence occurs:
Main party is immediately sent to the emptiest and longest gosh-darn dungeon outside of Might & Magic VII. Gabranth makes a weak attempt to taunt Ashe, the ensuing exchange feeling like lost dialogue from an unaired low-budget made-for-TV fantasy skit. Ashe decides to use "good sword" over "evil sword," spawning a sudden soap opera moment from Reddas who in one fell swoop confesses he was the judge that destroyed Nabudis and sacrifices his life to shelter everyone and everything from the "big nasty exploding Crystal." Vaan laments this loss of a man he barely knew by unconvincingly exclaiming, "Reddas!" Then a large airship, endearingly named in honor of Bahamut, is summoned from beyond and the main party is directed to fly into it to defeat a one-dimensionally power-hungry Vayne Solidor, who gets on his villain soapbox for the standard final monoluge. Blithely unaffected by family ties or an aristocratic upbringing, prepubescent Larsa asserts, "No, you are wrong brother!" and helps the party defeat Vayne, who turns into Super-Foozle-Demon "Vayne Novus" (meaning Vayne augmented by the supernatural Venat) for the Final final battle. At some point the estranged identical twins kiss and make up, but not before the dying twin confesses his hatred for the other stemmed from envy, misunderstanding, and admiration. Very touching. Credits roll, Penelo has a trendy new haircut, Balthier and Fran are alive and well, Basch is Larsa's protector, Ashe has moved on; everyone is happy.
The overarching explanation and resolution of all the above intricate circumstances is that the political/military firestorm was just a big predetermination of the Gods, everyone else is a pawn, but the renegade God Venat wants to "free" mankind from the shackles of divine agenda, and appears to succeed. To this, I say simply, "deus ex machina" and wonder why I spent 90 hours on the game.
Naturally, because the series has typically succeeded in accomplishing ambitious objectives, I find myself believing that the original intent was to resolve the storyline in a much denser and much lengthier manner. Hence, it's not hard to see why I envison the final result as the unfinished product of what I outlined earlier, "The stockholders are getting anxious so please wrap it up. If you're that concerned with the integrity of the storyline, save it for a sequel."
I mean, can anyone honestly believe that, right off the bat, the intent was to conjure a framework about a small kingdom wedged between two larger entities, and omit the second entity entirely? "Thank you for playing Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Our artistic vision guided us to systemically exclude the Sun clan from this installment without exception. We hope you enjoy." It's difficult to imagine the project was conceived like that. I am much more ready to infer that FFXII is simply incomplete, rather than poorly planned from its inception.
Likewise, the City of Archades is a wholesale let-down. The quantity and yes, quality, of screen time devoted to the intriguing political landscape there does nothing but kindle a legitimate expectation that it will harbor some climactic expansion and major evolution of the storyline. This is especially true considering you trek through five mammoth world maps just to reach the destination with only a lone Phon Coast cutscene to sustain the journey's narrative focus. Arriving there, the last thing I expected after going through its slums was that I would have to gossip for Pine Chops (!!?) so that Balthier could fly us into Metroid.dungeon where almost nothing happens... "almost" meaning that there is in fact an unmoving megalomaniac-father and rebellious-son reunion and the introduction of Reddas. The Senate we heard so much about in the early game has been conveniently exterminated and Dr. Cid pulls a "catch me if you can!" presumably flying to the Feywood that originally drove him mad. So much for Archades.
That said, I do see your point about a common thread of self-determination in several of the main characters, but that concept is broad enough that it can be inferred from just about any scenario involving a personal change of position. There is also a definite tie-in (however tenuous) between the character's individual self-determinations and Venat's aspirations of enabling a free-willed mankind, but if that were the crowning jewel of the tale, it would certainly benefit from more explicit emphasis and philosophical development.
Additionally, the instances of self-determination in FFXII are far from innovative and aren't implemented with any particularly inspired or non-hackneyed context. We have the ambivalent princess torn between revenge and the good of humanity (isn't the "right" answer rather obvious?). Then there's the forest creature who leaves the comfort of her village to confront the outside world on her own two-feet (or ears

). Balthier (and I'm in accordance with you that he's a great character) is a fallen noble who forsaked his privileges for the freedoms of sky-piracy. We also have two orphans, one of whom dreams of becoming a sky ninja and another whose self-determination, if one could even call it that, consists of fastening herself by the side of the other. Then I suppose one could construct an argument that Basch somehow exemplifies some facet of self-determination but it would then be just that, a construction. Perhaps Final Fantasy XII could be plausibly construed as a rough foray into the idea of self-determination. But for me and I suspect many others, a few loose connections to a concept as ubiquitous as that does not make for a great story. And even if exploring that ideal were the primary goal of the writing team, I don't find it was implemented with much artistic proficiency or advanced well enough to leave a lasting impression. Given the series' legacy of success in quasi-philosophical narrative and the five year break after the benchmark FFX, yes, I consider it disappointing.
The story, while undeveloped and somewhat secondary to other considerations in the development of FFXII, was nevertheless impressively clever and strikingly sophisticated. I thoroughly enjoyed the game.
Except for the part about it being clever and sophisticated, I think you hit the nail on the head. Anyway, I hope the above helps to clarify why I find the Final Fantasy XII storyline so unimpressive. Thanks to everyone for the input.
-BPK
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