Dragon Quest 7: The 100 Hour RPG

In Dragon Quest 7, most of the story comes from the sub-plots on each island. This means that some NPCs on these islands have as much development as the main characters. It also means that the game can tackle a bunch of different stories with varied themes and presentation. The main problem with these is the same as other aspects of the game: Quantity over quality. Trying to fit over 20(!) stories into one game means none of the characters you meet get enough time to make an impact, even if This Game is 100 Hours Long.

As much as I disliked the wait for classes and completely eviscerated the Rashers and Stripes fight, that segment was one of the game's best points, writing-wise. It’s an interesting set-up with some twists along the way and a satisfying conclusion. Though the focus is as always on NPCs, we get some with visible personalities and drama that comes from how their characters interact. Apart from the dull dungeons and awful boss fight, I was fairly engaged.

But even this high point in the narrative still serves the argument I’m making. One of the reasons it’s a better part of the story is because it lasts longer, giving the characters time to grow. And then once this quest is over? Those interesting side characters limply trail off into oblivion, never to be heard from again. You never go back. Never hear what became of them afterwards. They’re from the past, so they don’t even get a late-game cameo. For all intents and purposes, they had zero effect on the world, the plot, or the main characters.

They had an ENRAGING effect, but only out-of-character.

Dragon Quest 7: The High-Quantity Narrative

It’s said video games have low standards for writing. On average, this is true. What most neglect is why this is the case. The obvious answer is “bad writers”, but there’s more to it than that. Video games are a different medium than books or movies, and writing them requires a new approach we haven’t collectively figured out yet. I’m not just talking about interactive narratives or branching paths, but how the introduction of gameplay completely changes the pacing and tone of plain ol’ linear stories.

This video outlines some of the problems with writing game dialogue. Not only do games have far less words per minute due to all that pesky gameplay, many of those words are spent on where to go, what to do, and reminding you of current events. It might’ve been an hour since the last conversation, let alone major plot point. Game writers, on top of sharing their story with a team of dozens of people with changing agendas and budgets, have to be economical with dialogue to keep pacing tight and stories interesting in between your lazy afternoons killing a thousand rats.

RPGs are often heralded for their stories, but in truth, they’re not much better. A lot of what makes RPG stories enjoyable isn’t their quality, but their quantity. They’re just as wasteful with their words, but bring enough along to make up the difference. 40+ hours is a long time to properly explain yourself. Dragon Quest 7 has 100, and it’s not shy about packing them with words. The key question is does it use those words well?

Weeeeeeell…there are some parts of the writing I like! And we’ll get to those. Eventually. But first, let’s talk about characters.

Dragon Quest 7: The Turn-Based Traditionalist

  

There’s nothing wrong with tradition. There’s nothing wrong with sticking to what’s reliable. There’s nothing wrong with iteration over innovation. This is good for Dragon Quest 7, as it’s a traditional RPG that sticks to what’s tried and true. What’s bad for DQ7 is that it executes what’s tried and true poorly. This happens frequently.

Blatant Classism

Dragon Quest 7 uses a fairly standard class system for 80% of the game. You’ll note that, since This Game Is 100 Hours Long, it leaves 20 hours unaccounted for. This is how long it takes to unlock the bloody feature. In the time it takes to unlock the core mechanic for advancing your character, you have gone through a lengthy intro, several completely separate story arcs across time and space, and the entire development of a major character. If you’re playing in short bursts, like me during commutes to work, this takes weeks of real world time.

That’s not to say that there’s zero character progression before this. Your party still earns experience and levels up, increasing their basic stats. There’s a fairly standard array of equipment: A weapon for damage, a shield, helm and armor for defense, and an accessory for wild card bonuses. Only certain characters can equip certain things, and everyone learns a few set skills early on to compensate for the lack of classes. But what they don’t give you is options. It’s all set in stone and you don’t feel like you’re working towards a greater goal, which is half the fun.

Dragon Quest 7: The Neglected Best-Seller

Once upon a time, in the days before Mario, Pac-man or even Spacewar, there lived two men named Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson. The pair had a fondness for miniature war games, to the point where they spent time creating their own. Together, they collaborated on a system of pen-and-paper fantasy adventure called Dungeons and Dragons. This was the codifier of a thousand gaming tropes and standards that came to be known as RPGs (role-playing games). RPG is a vague, messy label, and it’s been increasingly difficult to nail down what constitutes an RPG as games have evolved. But it’s hard to argue with games directly inspired by, if not outright ripping off, Dungeons and Dragons.

There were many, many such games even in the infant days of gaming*. But there were two in particular that reached such ridiculous popularity that they defined the genre for years to come. The second of these released was called Final Fantasy. It’s a long-running series with dozens of entries. It’s one of the most popular franchises in video games. You’ve heard of it, seen it, probably even played it. The first of these released was called Dragon Quest. It’s a long-running series with dozens of entries. It’s one of the most popular franchises in video games. Most of you vaguely recall the name, and that’s where your knowledge ends.

*Ultima, Wizardry, and many others commenters would yell “I forgot” had I not made this qualifying sentence.

Dragon Quest is the one about the Super Sayamen, right?

Final Fantasy 2: Dungeons, Combat and Music

Last time we contested the logic of a cat hair moustache, discussed the perils of fearsome Clown Dragons, and explained why you can’t stop hitting yourself. This time we’re jumping right into the fray by discussing who’s in the fray. Let’s talk about how Final Fantasy 2 handles enemy design.

Old School Eeeehnemies

There’s a simple question to ask any time you’re evaluating the usefulness of a new enemy, attack, or feature in general: Does this change player behavior? Ultimately, this is the entire point of adding new content beyond aesthetic appeal. Different foes provide different challenges, which you strategize and respond to appropriately. To speak bluntly, most old RPGs were bad at this, and Final Fantasy 2 is a prime example.

There are a large number of different enemies in FF2, technically speaking. But a significant number are only separated by stats, their vast web of techniques summed up in a word: Attack. They hit you and you hit them, then one of you falls over. Sometimes even bosses do nothing but attack, and not just the “bosses” that are literally groups of enemies with different theme music. Stat differences are usually too slight to noticeably separate monsters*. The vast majority all blend together as things to hold the A button against. To the game’s credit, it does have several enemies that utilize different tactics than just attacking. The problem is most of these are terrible.

*I wonder if this is due to how varied the encounter tables are. The number of foes you fight can range from two to eight in just about any configuration. Perhaps monsters are mostly the same power level because that way they can be mixed and matched in differing quantities without worry. I prefer the approach of later games: lower encounter rates and fewer foes per fight but higher HP and longer battles to compensate. At least then you’re likely to see everything an enemy has to offer before giving it the ax.

"Big Horn A, I've just come up with another magnificent strategy!"

"Fantastic Big Horn B! We can always count on your keen intellectual mind!"

"So first: You attack them. And then, and this is a work in progress, try to keep up: I attack them."

"Brilliant! Big Horn B, you've done it again!"

"What do I do?"

"Sorry Big Horn C, I haven't gotten that far ahead."

Final Fantasy 2: Story and Leveling

Two of my favorite franchises in video games are The Legend of Zelda and Final Fantasy. The two have several things in common. They’re both extremely popular and long-running series. They both tend to shun traditional sequels, kicking off each title with a different setting and story. They also both have a second entry that tried something drastically different and ended up as the black sheep. I played both black sheep years ago, gave up in frustration, and eventually revisited each of them for reviews.

But upon further examination, their similarities dry up. The Legend of Zelda may hit the reset button almost every entry, but there’s a lot that stays the same. Up until its most recent title, the biggest criticism anyone could level was that it was formulaic. It dealt in presenting new lands, challenges, and incremental tweaks. Iteration rather than innovation. But Final Fantasy?

The most you can say is it stays roughly within the same genre.

And then there's the spinoffs, which are often ARE different genres. For better or worse.

The Great PokeClone-Off Finale

On this winding path through lame jokes and Poke-themed armchair game design, we are finally at the beginning of the end, which is author-speak for “whenever sounds most dramatic.” The sun is setting, the ship is leaving dock, and the fat lady is running low on lung capacity. We have reached the end of the road, the line, the journey, the thread, our wits, and the overextended intro sequences. And we’ve hit that point with a whole mess of baggage still waiting to be packed in.

So it’s time we got to it! This final post will focus on the miscellaneous, those nuggets of critical gristle that don’t fit within the neat, juicy cuts of analysis covered before. I’ve condensed these turbulent storms of raw opinion into five sorta-distinct categories: Level Design, Difficulty, Post-Game/Multiplayer, Economy/Interface, and Mini-Games/Side Quests.  Each will be worth five points, which I have ingeniously combined with my incredible skills of basic multiplication for a 25 point total. The critiques will be doled out quickly and efficiently, like extremely condescending machine gun fire. And that rapid rain of ravishing reverence and ravaging ridicule will begin…

…

…

…hold on, let me just check my wa – RIGHT NOW!

The Great PokeClone-Off Part 4: Customization and Writing

There is a series that is very good at one particular thing. It excels at long-term strategic planning. It embraces widespread personalization. It’s the master of modification. Customization is its middle name.

…No not Custom Robo! Customization is its first name. I am of course talking about Pokemon. Its full name is Pocket Customization Monsters. It had some weird parents. Or maybe they were just a fan of underwater creatures and stealth puns.

There’s another series that’s very good at a different thing. It shines at designing an intricate narrative. It loves crafting characters and directing dialogue. It’s the sultan of scripting. Writing is its middle name.

…No not Pokemon! Are you kidding? This stuff is serviceable at best. I am of course talking about…actually, I don’t even know what series I’m talking about. I’m sure one exists out there. Somewhere. Probably. I just know it’s not Pokemon.

The Great PokeClone-Off Part 3: Combat

When you go to visit the Mona Lisa, you may notice they don’t react kindly towards your attempts at rotating the painting, plugging it into a wall charger or smooshing Poffins all over her face. As was explained to me by an unusually patient police officer, this is because the Mona Lisa is not a video game. Through rigorous abuse of the term “scientific method”, I’ve done some testing and confirmed that:

1. Some things are not video games.

2. Video games are different from other things.

I’m planning on writing my thesis on this one: 3. Video games are things you can play. And the first thing you think of when you hear the word play? Murder. So it’s high time we broke down the “playing a game” aspect of these video games, starting with the part where you physically harm others to become successful. These gameplay sections will be worth extra points, because horrific violence is inherently hilarious. Or because it’s a big part of the experience, if you’re feeling boring and accurate.

The Great PokeClone-Off Part 2: Audio

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, every other possible sexual orientation and all manner of living creatures on Earth (except sharks): Welcome back to The Great PokeClone-Off!

This week’s installment of The Great PokeClone-Off is brought to you by PokeMart Incorporated. Remember: Shop smart, shop PokeMart! (Guys that, uh…that line doesn’t work as well with the letter swapped out. Also, I don’t think our target demo will get the reference? That movie came out like 6 years before – okay okay I’ll stick to the script!)

Last time we explored a feast for the eyes by comparing game visuals. This time the meal is moving a few inches back on your cranium, because I’m serving up a feast for the ears. I’m assuming that’s where your ears are. If you have eyes on the side of your head you’ll have to go elsewhere, sharks.

The Great PokeClone-Off Part 1: Visuals

Several months ago, I visited a Gamestop with some friends. It was the first time I’d set foot in a physical game store in over a year. As digital markets like Steam rose in popularity, I cut down on corporeal visits. Soon I made the decision to buy nothing used if I could pay the actual creators, and a second nail flew into that coffin. Now I’m a post-college adult with a day job, several creative hobbies and a backlog of dozens upon dozens of games I already own. Brick and mortar outlets are so far off my radar that Gamestop could start doing trade-ins for human skulls and I wouldn’t notice. On top of that, I’d never visited this particular store. So while waiting for friends to inspect some trading cards, I did what any sensible person would do:

I stripped that whole store down to the god damn marrow.

The result was what I’d like to call The Discount Fifteen. 15 games purchased for 30 US dollars. I dug through mountainous drifts of sports games, shovelware and sports games again (there were a lot of sports games) to find the diamonds in the rough. Or more accurately, the gravel shaped like funny faces in the rough. The games I selected were not all good - though you’d be surprised what Gamestop will let sink to the bottom after an arbitrary amount of years. But even those not “good” were at least interesting, and the first I popped in a console was a game called Spectrobes: Beyond the Portals.

Super Paper Mario Part 4: Writing

Super Paper Mario is a game with flaws. Even the most ardent fans wouldn’t call the game perfect. But when complaints about it arise, there is a common response. There is one element of the game that supposedly makes up for everything else. From the moment you start writing a critique, you can see a vision flash in your mind’s eye, a person countless miles away with fingers poised above a keyboard. If you listen to the whispers on the wind, you can hear their call: writing!

When people complain about Super Paper Mario’s transformation into a platformer, you hear the call: writing! When people moan about Super Paper Mario’s removal of RPG elements, you hear the call: writing! When people whine about Super Paper Mario’s complete absence of difficulty, you hear the call: writing! When people trip over a discarded Super Paper Mario disc, you hear the call: writing! When you stub your toe and Super Paper Mario happens to be in the room, you hear the call: writing! When your dog urinates on the good rug and Super Paper Mario wasn’t in the room at the time but you were kind of half thinking about it in the back of your mind a minute or two before it happened, you hear the call: writing!

An exaggeration, but not as much as you’d think. In my experience, the common defense of the game is not to support the gameplay. The gameplay is dismissed as “good enough” and people gush about how great the writing is to make up for it. And though I can quibble on particulars, I agree. The writing is not some shining savior that absolves every other sin in the game, but it helps a lot. So it’s high time we dissected it, to see what it is that works so well for people.

Super Paper Mario Part 3: Odds and Ends

Greetings yet again, weary web travelers! Sit and gather round the fireside for toasty tales of amateur game analysis. Don’t actually do that though. What, did you bring your laptop on a camping trip? Knock that off, there’s friends to tolerate or s’mores to be swiped! Only reason to bring a laptop while camping is to look up how to avoid a deadly bear mauling. I’ll give you a hint: It’s not by sitting out in the open with a laptop, you doofus. By the time your browser loads “Buzzfeed’s 11 Most Shocking Bear Accidents” the animal will be enjoying it alongside a midnight snack of your succulent flesh.

And what’s the alternative? That you’re started an indoor campfire next to your desktop? I appreciate your dedication to verisimilitude, but this blog isn’t worth a case of fatal arson! At best, it’s worth a few felony misdemeanors and some light insurance fraud. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yes. Super Paper Mario. We gon’ talk ‘bout it mo’.

Super Paper Mario Part 2: RPG Mechanics

Welcome back, spambots and tumbleweeds that make up my recurring viewers! Last time on our thrilling adventures of hobbyist armchair game blogging, we cracked open Super Paper Mario. We took a break for the more literal minded among you to tape your game discs back together, but now you’re all back, for some reason. Today I’ll be talking about the gameplay unrelated to the old run-and-jump. Specifically RPG elements. So enough intro! As a famous man* once said: “Let’s-a go!”

*Though for the life of me I can’t remember who. I think it might’ve been a wrestler. The Great Gorgonzola or something.

Numbers That Go Up

Super Paper Mario handles RPG elements poorly.

There. We’ve got it out in the open, and now we’re gonna break it down, piece by piece. We’ll start with one of the most basic elements of an RPG: leveling up.

Just don’t level up Resistance, you casual.

Super Paper Mario Part 1: Jumpin and Jammin

Introduction

The first two Paper Mario games are some of my favorites of all time. The first game was a light-hearted storybook adventure with a colorful cast of characters and locations. It created combat that was fairly simple, but in doing so actually drilled down to the essentials for refreshingly minimalistic gameplay. It offered the strategy of turn-based RPGs with none of the unneeded complexity, and an added boost of tactile/timing based challenge.

The second game, Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door was an improvement on the already excellent original in several ways. The combat received a plethora of small but notable tune-ups, the dialogue was funnier, the plots were more varied, and the soundtrack was phenomenal. The series was an amazing one, and eventually I’ll have to do them justice with their own write-ups here on the blog. Especially since…well, it’d help to keep things positive. You’ll note I said the series was an amazing one.

Child of Light: Combat and Progression

This Child of Light series has seen plenty of genteel discussion so far. We’ve spent some time admiring the serene beauty of the visuals. Whisked ourselves away to the soft and atmospheric soundtrack. Carefully and thoughtfully dissected the root problems within the writing. That’s all well and good. But the obvious follow-up question any sane person would ask: When do we get to the gruesome murder? That’s right, stuff away your pacifism you non-gender-conforming-deragotry-word-implicating-you-as-weaklings, it’s time we talked about the combat.

I really like the combat in Child of Light, except when I hate it with intensity unmatched by mortal men. This dichotomy is also present in the game’s RPG progression, albeit to a much subdued degree. In an effort to pace things properly and give you time to clean the bile spewing out of your monitor, we’ll be alternating on the good and bad. Think of it as eating a delicious ice cream cone in a flavor of your choice, then intermittently washing it down with a forkful of dumpster treasure and insect chitin. Now that I’ve whetted your appetite and fully convinced you how great this idea is, let’s launch right in!

Child of Light: Writing

The first post I made on Child of Light was pretty positive. Sure there were some minor grumbles round the middle. But I mostly said nice things and good feelings were had by all. I prostrated myself before the screenshots on my monitor, hailing such praise for the visuals that you’d think I’d started a new religion. The compliments I gave the music were so enthusiastically comprehensive that in certain countries the soundtrack and I are now legally married. I’m pretty sure every member of the audience got a free dirt bike.

That was then, and this, assuming my rudimentary understanding of time and written tense is correct, is now. Things will go a little differently this time, but I hold up last post as a shield against accusations that I am that most reviled of animals: the “hater”. Like a used nose ring in a bowl of cheerios, the bad must be revealed so it can be avoided in the future. I’m not trying to shoot the messenger or deride the culinary merits of cheerios, it’s just the nature of criticism. You know what they say: If you love something, sometimes you just have to kick it in the dick. That’s what they say, right? Pretty sure it is. If it isn’t then I’m beginning to suspect my parents were full of shit.

Child of Light: Art, Music and Miscellaneous

In a turn of events that’s pretty rare these days, I actually finished a video game last weekend two weeks ago relatively recently. The game in question is Child of Light, an independent RPG developed by Ubisoft Montreal in 2014. I quite enjoyed it, but for all the parts I liked, there were some I was indifferent towards, and some that outright frustrated me. Polarizing experiences such as these are always more interesting to write about. So much so, that this article had to be split into multiple parts! Next week is going to be about the game’s writing. The article after that will tackle the game’s combat. As for right now? Everything else. But specifically, we’re going to start with...

Bravely Default: Filler and Plot Twists

Four weeks ago, I wrote an article about Undertale and Completionism, and in it I briefly mentioned a game called Bravely Default, grumbling about it having filler. Three weeks ago, I finished playing Bravely Default, and decided it was time to voice opinions that had been bubbling over a saga of a hundred hours. Two weeks ago, I wrote about the good in Bravely Default, of its marvelous combat and its magnificent music. One week ago, I discussed the story of Bravely Default, my tone slowly souring in the face of thoughtless clichés and disconnected, diminished side quests. This brings us tumbling towards that land on the precipice of both the foreign and familiar, the present. Ladies and gentlemen, we have, in all senses of the word, reached the endgame.

And with it comes one emphatic warning. This post will not just contain spoilers. No, it will contain MAXIMUM SPOILERS. Should you choose to read on, you will be like a barrel of fish shipped to Kansas in a sunbed. Like a child whose parents buy him every Amiibo, Skylander and trading card on the market. Like a banana with a peel black as the deepest abyss. SPOILED, SPOILED, SPOILED, down to the very core. Everything is on the table, and that table is under a spotlight of a worldwide live television broadcast. If you have any ambition of experiencing the late-game revelations of Bravely Default for yourself, turn back.

Well, uh, maybe not literally. That would make it hard to operate your computer. Just navigate to a different webpage, I guess.

Let it never be said that I am thoughtless with plot details. Here is that warning one final time:

SPOILERS!

With that out of the way, let’s begin with a recap...

Bravely Default: Story and Side Quests

Last week I opened up a new series on Bravely Default, and I started things out pretty positive. This is key to keep in mind, because it’s all downhill from here. This second post will focus on the writing of the game, and will feature MINOR SPOILERS. Specifically, I’ll be going into various details of the story and spoiling some mid-game side quests. However, all the major plot twists and late-game story will be saved for a third and final post. It’ll take some effort to avoid talking about them, but they deserve their own time to shine (or, uh, the opposite of shine. Absorb light?). Let’s dive right in with a basic overview of the story.

Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before

The writing in Bravely Default isn’t terrible. It has some neat ideas and there’s some untapped potential, but the execution is questionable from the moment you open the game. It begins with a couple brief cutscenes that, even in retrospect, contribute absolutely nothing. This video shows the introductory scenes, but the actually important ones start at 2:30, with one scene for each main character. They’re about as generic as they come (though the music remains excellent throughout).

First we have Anges (pronounced ahn-yes), a serious shrine maiden stereotype spouting overwrought dialogue about a crystal of the four elements. Next we have Ringabel, a dashing rogue who’s also a womanizer and amnesiac. Third up is Edea, a headstrong daughter to a major political power. Finally we have Tiz, a simple farm boy from a sleepy village that’s instantly blown to bits along with his brother. Sound familiar? It should, if you’ve played literally any JRPG ever made. This is the type of set-up you’d give to a parody of JRPGs, but Bravely Default plays this premise completely straight for much of the game. You’re four extremely generic protagonists following along a generic plot to re-light four (generic) magic crystals.

Also, you reawaken the crystals with a quick-time event. Wa-hoa, Bravely Default, save some innovation for the rest of us!