RPGs were long considered by many to be best handled by Japanese developers like Square Enix, Level 5, and Game Freak. Square Enix’s Final Fantasy titles have all sold over one million copies, some of them having sold more than four million, like Final Fantasy VII which has pushed ten million copies to date. Game Freak is responsible for developing the highest-grossing RPG series Pokemon, which by 2011 had been purchased over two-hundred fifteen million times. The continued success of games released by these and other developers is a testament to the staying power of genre themes with which people are not willing to part. Character customization, the ability to level-up those characters with the allotment of experience points, side quests, and a grand storyline (often involving a female cat-humanoid) are all few a components that comprise the familiar JRPG.

Western RPGs are taking massive leaps forward, however. Whereas JRPGs have the tendency to be completely linear, meaning the player is told where to go the entire way through the game, WRPGs have become traditionally open-world, meaning the player has the option to explore the vast reaches of the games, making their own respective decision to follow the main quest-line, complete side-quests, or simply just eliminate the game’s population of wildlife. Bethesda Game Studios is one western developer that is largely responsible for the rise in popularity of these games. They have released massive titles like the Elder Scrolls I-V, as well as Fallout 3 and its expansion, Fallout New Vegas. These games, like many JRPGs, allow the player to allot skill points to various attributes and abilities that they wish their character to have, often allowing for a character which is very powerful in its field of expertise. I can hardly do these games justice in simply describing them as games where you “allot skill points,” though. There are simply so many routes the player can take their character both in terms of their abilities and where they want their character to go. The scope is simply huge in games like Fallout and the Elder Scrolls, as well as in Bioware’s Mass Effect series, which, similar to Fallout 3, allows the player to determine the general morality of their character.

In my opinion, character customization has been handled more efficiently by western developers, because they give the player such a wide range of abilities to choose from that by the game’s end, the player can feel accomplished in having created a truly unique avatar. Despite this opinion, it cannot be understated how well some JRPGs pull off telling a story which perhaps could only be told in a linear setting, where the game itself leads the player through the story. In some ways, the difference between JRPs and WRPGs is like the difference between movies and games as a whole. Movies, like JRPGs, progress exactly the way the director intends them. The story is displayed without an ounce of the audience’s input and movies are largely successful because of it. Story-telling is in our DNA, and we soak up other people’s ideas like sponges. Video games, like WRPGs, are the marked difference in that they allow the audience to actually immerse themselves in the story. Instead of simply showing the plot, video games give the player an exploratory view, and one that perhaps leaves them more invested with the characters.

In many ways, I appreciate these genres for their differences between each other. JRPGs and WRPGs are so unlike that they can barely be said to be in the same genre. It also has to be noted that these two categories contain numerous subcategories like tactical RPGs, action RPGs, and the gigantic massive-multiplayer online RPGs, each with their own good and bad attributes. There are moments in these games that, at least for me, define my experience with video games and these moments seem to be directly tied to the genre they were produced in. The ascension out of the vault into the desolate landscape of Fallout 3 was unbelievable. The initial glare of the sun in the player’s eyes, followed by endless hours of post-apocalyptic gameplay left me astonished. Similarly, I will never forget how moved I was when I learned the fate of Yuna in Final Fantasy X, and how the main character reacted to her ill-fated purpose. The xenophobic tendencies of the Japanese seem to impress upon game developers that they do not need to change certain JRPG archetypes, but that is only true to a certain extent. Much in the way that western developers have taken ques from Japanese developers and then improved upon them, so also do Japanese developers need to capitalize on the attributes which have made WRPGs so successful.

In a previous Checkpoint, I discussed the recent fad in the video game industry where games from previous console generations are being rereleased in HD. My main focus was whether or not this fad was proof that consumers are purchasing games either for graphics or for gameplay, and not necessarily for both. I wanted to narrow my focus on a specific developer and discuss how well their more recent releases hold up against their older entries. Square Enix, who before 2003 was simply Square Co., are touted as the creators of the hugely popular JRPG series Final Fantasy, which has no final game in sight due to the success of nearly every game. The games that gained this developer so much respect, however, contrast sharply from their most recent releases, and in several ways.

 Final Fantasy I through VI solidified Square Co. as a developer who knows how to make games with epic journeys, amazing musical scores, and, most importantly, really good gameplay. Turn-based RPGs were generally unheard of before Final Fantasy, and really only became popular in the U.S. following the release of Final Fantasy I. This battle system consists of the player wielding a party of usually three to four characters, each with differing abilities and equipment. Each character is given one turn per round to attack, defend, or use an item. Final Fantasy made these battles interesting in that the battles always surrounded a greater plot, whether the characters were simply fending of fiends in a dungeon or defeating an epic boss in a dilapidated castle. Additionally, the characters would grow stronger by “leveling up” and this would give them access to greater abilities and equipment, all of which would be more aesthetically pleasing to the player as they leveled up further. FF I through VI were 2-D, although they did receive more graphic detail as the series progressed. It was Final Fantasy VII that changed everything.

Final Fantasy VII was the first fully-3D entry in the series but what really set it apart was the delivery of a deeply heartfelt and engaging story that perhaps connected the players to the characters more than ever before. A skill system called the materia system was also introduced in which special orbs could be placed on characters’ weapons and armor and would allow for greater skills, magic, and even summons of creatures. Despite the game being fifteen years old, I don’t want to reveal any spoilers. The game is nonetheless worth playing to those who have already enjoyed it as well as those who never got a chance. To date, this is likely the most popular title in the series and is still regarded as the height of Square’s creativity. This game did not rely on graphics simply because home consoles didn’t have the capacity to run anything better. This in no way created a void of enjoyability, however. In fact, since it is relatively difficult to find a decent copy of the PS1 original, Sony chose to make it available digitally on Playstation Network on the PS3. FF VIII and IX were both worthy entries and are considered by some to even be superior to VII, but in terms of popularity, the two were greatly overshadowed by VII.

Final Fantasy X was another leap or, a staple, in the series. This game proved yet again that fans of the series appreciate a good story more than anything. The graphical leap from PS1 to PS2 was a plus and added to the fans’ general adoration of the game. FF X did not use graphics as a crutch and focused on a love story surrounded by the greater story arch of the possible end of the world. Perhaps even more than the story, it was the characters who really engaged players and gave them the desire to see them through the game’s end. A boy transported far into the future, a girl tasked with sacrificing her life for the sake of her world, and several guardians with their own individual story lines created an even larger fan-base for the series and it even led to a direct sequel. The sequel was quickly maligned as a cheap way to capitalize on a greater story, coming off as vapid and generally worthless. The gameplay was actually somewhat interesting because it involved a new battle system, but that was the extent of any possible enjoyability. More recent entries seem to be so graphic-oriented that something has certainly been lost in the process.

Final Fantasy XI gained some attention before its release in 2003, but because the game was a poorly-created MMO, it only ever gained a specific group of players – namely those who simply enjoyed punishment in the form of endless grinding, nearly impossible bosses, and genuinely impossible drops of useful gear. Most of the servers running this game have since been shut down but certain masochists continue to enjoy its supremely difficult gameplay. Yet here again it is proven that gameplay (which in this case only ever supports the storyline) and not really graphics, is what the players respect. Final Fantasy XII received generally mixed reviews and is truly hit-or-miss with most people. The graphics and gameplay seemed to be limited because it is a product of a fading console generation. I can’t help but feel it would have been better received on the PS3. It is rumored that this game, like FF X, will eventually receive an HD remake which, in my opinion, is actually warranted in this case. XII was, after all, marketed as a single-player game set in an MMO-sized world. I just don’t think the PS2 handled it as well as the game deserved.

Final Fantasy XIII is somewhat of a consumer-minded abomination of the series. When you ask a fan of this game what is so markedly impressive of the title, the ubiquitous answer is the graphics.

Other than the main character, the characters in this game lack any reason for the player to care about them. The main character does not carry the game, though, nor should she. Instead, like every Final Fantasy, the game jumps from the personal story of one character to another. Were the characters actually interesting, this would be acceptable, but they simply aren’t. Most of them have stories that either aren’t interesting or actually don’t even matter for the purpose of the main storyline. What’s worse is the gameplay. I feel like Square Enix thought the graphics were so good that the gameplay needed to be cut back in order for the player to gaze at the beautiful polygons even more. This was a huge mistake on their part, in reference to the respect of their fan base. Since consumerism determines “the shinier, the better,” XIII has done well and has even spawned an even worse direct sequel. It’s disgusting that a developer which is so obviously capable of amazing games has taken this direction and it’s really inexcusable.

This is the interactive storyline I created for my project.

Max’s Avenger, as I titled it, is set in a future where humanity has moved to a new galaxy. Humans are spread across various planets that they share with other sentient races. The story focuses on a nameless character who comes to find that his friend has been murdered. In their world, the galaxy is basically run by a single government called the Galactic Coalition and the enforcers of the G.C. are the frost necromancers. These people have the ability to wield frost magic, channeled through the unholy powers of death and the underworld. The main character finds a pile of ashes which he believes to be the remains of his friend, Max, as Max’s belongings are scattered with the ashes. He believes the murderer to have been a frost necromancer due to the blue, icy nature of the ashes. Without giving away much more of the story, I want to talk about my inspirations as well as why I used Twine.

My intention for the story was that the galaxy the main character inhabits would be expandable through the use of Twine’s linking. Instead of using the links to offer the player optional choices and changes of direction for the story, I wanted the links to actually explain and expand the story itself. This was largely inspired by Mass Effect. Although the game is acclaimed for the options it gives players to control their character’s destiny through choices, I really admire the game’s ability to extrapolate on it’s universe as a whole. Everything from the game’s races to its locations are given greater detail because the player can often directly interact with these items. The menu then prompts the player to read about it in their codex. The universe that Bioware created is so large in scope that it makes sense for them to have employed the use of a codex.

I decided to include the frost necromancers because I often choose magic-based characters in RPGs. In World of Warcraft, for instance, my character was an undead warlock. In most science fiction, warlocks and necromancers are painted as evildoers, so I thought it made sense to make frost necromancers the ultimate evil force working for the Galactic Coalition.

Caster Gun

Growing up, I watched a lot of anime and I still appreciate several anime series to this day. One of my favorites that I admit I enjoy out of nostalgia and not out of its credibility is Outlaw Star. I’ve always wanted this show to be re-imagined by another, more capable studio because the basic storyline is really interesting. It just ends up suffering for its lack of character development and nonsensical approach to story-telling. In the universe of Outlaw Star, there is a group know as the outlaws. The term outlaw is used to describe those who don’t really work for anyone other than themselves. They often do odd jobs, selling random equipment or services in their local. The outlaw which the story focuses on, however, is one has a slight upper hand as he wields what is called a caster gun. These guns require special shells which are infused with tao magic. This comes in handy when the main character faces tao masters who use their magic for darkness and generally invulnerable to normal attacks. In Max’s Avenger, I delegated the use of caster guns to high-ranking officials within the frost necromancers, and somewhat of a birthright to Max, who also wields the magical gun.

Faith is a term whose meaning and value rely within the interpretation of the one(s) using the word. According to some, it is merely seen as a system of belief, perhaps even at times a system which is misleading and often hedged by the dogma of religion, the symptoms of which are “faithful” followers. However, others would use the term as the defining point of stability upon which their lives rest. That is, faith allows them to carry out their human functions which, in these cases, often means serving a higher being. Faith, as it is today, concordantly indicates both weakness and strength.

I read the interactive poem entitled “Faith,” expecting it to present a cynical view on the word and its connotations, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t so generic. The poem initially presents the word faith alone, elegantly strewn. As it stands, the word “logic” trickles over its edges, indicating two clear norms which the author Robert Kendall wanted to suggest. Faith is always at war with logic but the way the words are presented in the beginning of this poem could indicate the virility which faith has over logic as a tool (of control) used by people. The other norm in question is concerned with the fact that faith is something which people use to lie to themselves, or to deny their realities, ultimately choosing to be delusional in respect to things they cannot change.

 The poem goes on to question the implementation of faith and perhaps the reason for its introduction into the average person’s psyche. It petitions the reader to ask themselves what is left when logic runs out. This happens to everyone. When we cannot reconcile what we consider to be logical either with the events of our own lives or those of the world at large, we must ask ourselves what illogical force is at work. Some would label this force as faith.

What is left is the leap to be taken, that which is required by the mind to discern between right and wrong, good and evil. It is the determining factor which will bring a person to make a decision, or an assertion, either when logic coincides with the leap of faith or when it is in direct contradiction. The end of the poem sees all the other words falling to the bottom of the screen, and Faith, in all its glory, rests atop the heap of logic which was actually used to describe that very faith itself.