Final Fantasy XIII is a game that I am really unsure about. The pervasive warcry of “a step backward” from the gaming press and fans has set up a discussion that I feel requires one to take sides on the truth of that statement. Michael Abbott’s Deep Fantasy post at The Brainy Gamer avoids this framing to focus on the depth of the narrative elements of the game and the creation of some positive female lead characters. In doing so he cites Simon Ferrari’s analysis from Chungking Espresso to argue that the paring back of the game systems is what allowed the narrative to shine through:  ”ease the complexity of the game’s formal systems and increase the complexity of the game’s storytelling”.

The Final Fantasy series is nothing if it is not a journey. The places you go on that journey are the story arcs and moments of character development whilst the landmarks are FMV cutscenes and orchestral scores but the vehicle is always the gameplay; the motive force bringing you to the next stop on your travels.

The vehicle of FFXIII was supplied to me in a very careful and deliberate way. As a result I felt confident in my understanding of the game systems and my ability to guide this vehicle along the journey, which I suspect was the designers intention. By fostering this high level of player comprehension the complexity of the storytelling is allowed to shine through, unimpeded by player frustration. Where I differ from Michael is that I cannot agree on the gravity and importance of certain scenarios and characters within the narrative. This is not because he was incorrect in the identification of places and landmarks along his journey but because we were driving different vehicles. The level of player understanding fostered by FFXIII meant that my party was configured to be the set of abilities and paradigms I needed to traverse the current series of combat puzzles. The journey of FFXIII for me did not elevate Lightning l suspect it did for Michael. This is because she did not occupy a central position in the gameplay the filter through which, as a player, I combine the narrative elements.

Personally my narrative experience of videogames is that of gameplay as a lens to interpret the elements more traditionally associated with storytelling. Whilst reflecting on what stood out in the narrative of Final Fantasy XIII I thought of the strength of Fang and to a lesser extent the personal stories of Hope and Lightning whilst Sazh and Snow barely register in my recollection beyond their early actions. I am unsure of the exact breakdown but I feel that the game is balanced in how the amount of development it provides for each member of the ensemble cast. The only difference I could find is that Fang was almost always the leader of my party with Lightning and Hope in tow. My personal vehicle on this particular Final Fantasy journey is what enabled a subjective narrative experience.

What is exciting is that even with such a wealth of content FFXIII was able to provide a cohesive narrative journey through places and landmarks across the different vehicles created by player choice. I am unsure about Final Fantasy XIII because I have found that the slow and methodical introduction of gameplay elements and characters, the first port of call when crying “a step backward”, is precisely what was needed to enable personalization of the narrative. To give me what I needed to play the game and enough of each character to feel a connection no matter who formed the parts of my vehicle. This was unexpected.

If someone every told me that they play Torchlight for the authored narrative I would probably end the conversation. However I will immediately follow up that statement by saying that narrative is what has kept me going back to the game over and over again. This narrative I speak of does not involve chasing down Alric or the fate of the town of Torchlight, it is about the adventurer alchemist known as Ytill. If Runic Games diverted resources away from building a compelling narrative for their dungeon crawler it most definitely went towards the loot system and as a result it creates a means by which I as the player can create a story for Ytill much in the way I create my own story, through the items that he obtains, uses and keeps.

The story of Ytill for ten levels was linked to the weapon pictured above, an unassuming sword that outclassed any other I would find for hours to come. My growth as a character was linked to this item as my slightly melee focused Alchemist became a hand to hand combat machine because of this sword. This item, real in the gameworld, held not only the gaming moments of victory over hordes of “evilplacespawn” but also the ways that Ytill grew and changed and how I internalised the rules and systems of Torchlight. In the same way that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is not just a simple book, this sword was not just an awesome weapon. Many a time I would find new weapons, half hoping to find something better but secretly wishing for the opposite. So much of my narrative thus far was contained in this sword and thus when I found the Dismantling Sparkling Staff of the Bear with it’s higher damage per second, it was a moment of sadness. It was time to move on.

Much in the way my room tells a story of who I am, the items that Ytill uses and wears define my narrative in Torchlight. They are touchstones, memory markers and a means by which we as players can construct narratives through games like Torchlight, Borderlands and obviously Diablo. It is an active process different from other cultural forms. But this is not the end of the story of the sword, it now sits in the ingenious communal storage chest in the town of Torchlight, accessible to any character I chose to create. It waits for the time when Shaggy the level 2 Destroyer is ready, the time when I can once again be reminded of what my narrative in Torchlight, and what the future might hold.

All the items I gain in the game are linked back to this villa, on display to remind me of their existence whenever I return. My ever growing art collection is punctuated by largely empty rooms, set aside for weapons and armor. This reminds me of how I have chosen to progress in the game. The game has three collectibles items, feathers, codex pages and seals of your ancestor Assassin’s. It is not enough to simply retrieve them, they must be returned to the villa in order to contribute to that magical counter. I am reminded of the narrative justification for collecting feathers by the perpetually catatonic form of Ezio’s mother as  I deposit them in her room. I am reminded of the importance of finding all the Codex pages, a feeling reinforced when I place them amongst those already gained and as the Assassin’s seals unlock the gate to the ultimate final reward I feel motivated to explore just one more tomb.

The Villa at Monteriggioni at it’s most simple is a virtual trophy room, one which continually reinforces a holistic recollection of my gaming experience. When I equip my Condottiero War Hammer and Iron chestguard I cannot help but remember the common sword and leather armor that served me well during my early days in Florence. My anticipation of gameplay to come is increased by the memory of gameplay now past. Beyond a trophy room it is a benign region of Ezio’s world that provides for moments of practice and experimentation. With each new building upgraded, I gain access to the treasure chests that taunt me through their presence on my map. I practice many a jumping puzzle before needing those skills for the real challenges that I face in the greater world. I refine my combat reflexes without consequence or fear. The need to return to the Villa  to collect income means that whilst you might not need the safety net that it offers you are most definitely aware of it.

The open world genre can simultaneously intimidate and excite by the wealth of options for play that they offer. The inclusion of an area like the Monteriggioni Villa takes away much of the anxiety of being let loose in such a world that does not force you to participate in the authored narrative. It provides a virtual home, a safe place to exist in the world as well as an anchor for your memories of the game. This is a vital element that is missing in many open world games that often provide rich emergent experience but provide no means to hold onto them, leaving them to fade away with the next cool brush fire, assassination or car crash. When my time with Ezio is finished the Monteriggioni Villa and town are restored and alive with colour and movement. My trophy room has expanded out and every step through this place is a reminder of the things I have done and the fun I have had along the way.

The screen goes black, a stray bullet had struck me in the head. I am dead

The moment to moment action in the new Operation Flashpoint game, Dragon Rising is what makes this game an amazing experience. There is an ever present possibility of death, independent of choices made and you never feel the hand of the developer in these events. They have set up the base conditions and your presence is what causes the scenario to play out. Dragon Rising provides the intial (and expected) escapism and empowerment on a videogame letting you play soldier. Your actions are shown to be integral to each victory, you are the active force in this world. But you also inherit the realistic chance that as a soldier, your death is only one bullet away. Operation Flashpoint avoids many other gaming traditions aimed at reminding you of your empowered existence. There is no swell of orchestral music when you order a charge and no canned character dialogue for when a team member dies. The game succeeds because it does not try to elicit emotion or reaction from me in any way except through gameplay and given the large open nature of every mission, and unscripted AI, this comes at unexpected times. I do not need a large explosion or vista to reward me for being successful, overcoming the challenge of the game is it’s own reward. When a mission is complete there is no cutscene to form my character’s story, there is only the things I have just done, the moments that have just passed. The screen simply fades to black until I next take up the role of the soldier and define my experience by actions. The game does not try to force feed the empowerment fantasy to the player, anytime you act in a way that results in feelings of agency they feel earned and are much more effective.

Spoiler alert. This post talks about some key points in the narrative of Zeno Clash. Regardless of how this affects your choice to read further, I highly recommend that you gives the game a play.

Zeno Clash is exactly what I enjoy about this medium, that it creates places that never existed so that I can do things that will never be possible. My playthrough was a unique and memorable gaming experience and I wish to thank Michael Abbot for the strong recommendation he gave the game during his Summer of Confabs. Zenozoik, the world of Zeno Clash is at the same time pleasing to the eye and completely alien. During my journey through this I discovered that Zeno Clash deals with the universal human experience of family, with Ghat and his conflict with the creature, Father-Mother being front and center. The ambiguity of the narrative in regards to family is what makes Zeno Clash so fascinating and opens the game to a variety of readings. Ace Team achieve this by mixing up how family is communicated through plot, gameplay and stylistic choices.

The game opens with Ghat fleeing Halstedom with a female companion named Daedra. Halestedom is the city of his family and he has just killed his Father-Mother. The partnership of Ghat and Daedra seems to be as a result of the implied relationship they share. This sets up the first conflict of Zeno Clash. Ghat confirms a commitment to the formation of “family” through his coupling with Daedra alongside what appears to be a disregard for his own family through the killing of a creature that was both his father and mother. This sets up Ghat as a defender of family but only when it acts to reaffirm the norms of gender roles and social responsibilities (both he and Daedra are a clear heterosexual couple). He is rejecting the queer, more fluid idea of family that Father-Mother represents. Suitably so the family of Halstedom is diverse with no one member being firmly tied to a particular gender, culture or even species. Yet they are continually confirmed as being a part of one family during the game’s combat. Zeno Clash’s on-screen health bars are not only functional but bear the name of Ghat’s early opponents and whether they are his brother or sister. This is of no obvious advantage to the player other than to reinforce that they are grouped together, they are a family, in spite of Ghat’s position. This grouping of opponents occurs throughout the whole game and includes the Corwid, what I consider to be another “family” in Zeno Clash.

Through a series of flashback levels the player learns Ghat’s more advanced combat techniques, the same attacks that the player utilizes to defeat Father-Mother (during another flashback later on). These lessons are given by Metamoq, a member of the Corwid. The Corwid are described as beings that give in to all impulse without regard for morality. They are essentially a group of people beholden to their Id. This is an important moment in the story of Zeno Clash for a few reasons. When Ghat leaves his family to go learn from from the Corwid, he becomes one of them in the eyes of his brothers and sisters. Ghat’s actions in Zeno Clash can therefore be seen as being falling into a more instinctual realm, validating his preference of family as one that is right and beholden to a more “natural order”.  Ghat’s fighting ability is linked solely to the training received from Metamoq, the game provides no other explanation for his combat prowess. Metamoq’s contribution to game is completed with the words, “do what you feel you must do, no matter what. Then you will have reached perfection”. The actions that lead Ghat to the present moment, his partnership with Daedra, are now framed as being his movement towards perfection.  The player’s agency and power in the game world is now tied to  being a Corwid and further justified by the final words of Metamoq. The visceral combat of Zeno Clash is an affirmation of the power and inherent  ‘rightness’ of what Ghat appears to be presenting as “family” in the narrative. He is shown as right to have slain Father-Mother because of  what we later learn is a secret that is kept from her children. But when it comes time for Ghat to reveal that secret, his previous position becomes untenable.

The final confrontation, entitled Family Reunion, comes after a return trip from the End of the World where Ghat revives a creature known as Golem. Of note in the return trip is one of Daedra’s only meaningful lines in the game, her wish to have children of her own some day, to fulfill the role expected of her as a female. In Family Reunion, Ghat faces off against the still living, but wounded, Father-Mother. When defeated Father-Mother thanks him for deciding to destroy him instead of revealing his secret. Ghat subsequent refusal to do either is punctuated by the words “I do consider you my father and mother”. Ghat acknowledges that Father-Mother created a real family based upon the nurturing of young to maturity. But immediately the secret is then revealed by Golem, who remarks of Ghat’s words, “this is a problem”. He tells the family that Father-Mother is in fact a male creature who cannot give birth and who stole every single one of his children from their real parents. Within a space of moments we see a vindication of the family of Father-Mother alongside the secret, which undermines it. The game concludes with no clear position regarding the family, only the promise of Golem that he will guide them into a new age with Ghat and Daedra sitting together over Father-Mother.

The narrative of Zeno Clash presents various ideas about what constitutes “family”. This is done through plot, gameplay elements and even the game’s HUD. The game considers this: Can family only be the end product of the coupling of male and female partners or can it be formed by other means, as a grouping of people reaffirmed by their common existence and nurtured by parents that need not be what is expected? Zeno Clash is demonstrative of the ability of games to present such themes in new and interesting ways. Such things have no easy answer but with a Zeno Clash sequel confirmed I am looking forward to seeing Ace Games pursue the family in the future.