• Final Fantasy

    Final Fantasy

    Released: Dec 18, 1987
    Version played: 20th Anniversary Edition (2007)

    And so, their journey begins…

    Four heroes crest a hill as birds fly overhead, pure black silhouettes against the blue-green sky. A castle can be faintly seen in the distance, fading into the fog as the heroes begin their quest into the unknown. In this moment, this one final look back at their humble beginning, a melody plays as if carried by the wind.

    Final Fantasy belongs to Nobuo Uematsu. Obviously Square’s original FF team is full of heavy hitters, from wunderkind programmer Nasir to Pixel Art legend Kazuko Shibuya – and I don’t mean to downplay any of their contributions – but Uematsu is the reason you have heard of this game. It is nothing without that theme.

    Because Final Fantasy is ultimately not that impressive of a game. Not yet. It’s fine, but Dragon Quest is a masterpiece. It is only in fleeting moments, like that title screen, where you feel that you are standing on hallowed ground, with echoes of what this series will go on to become.

    No, unlike its main competitor and rival, Final Fantasy has a much more humble beginning. Whereas Dragon Quest was extremely forward thinking, Final Fantasy is instead looking backwards at Wizardry and Ultima and seeing what elements can be reintroduced to the more simplified and approachable form of the console JRPG. You have a simplified version of Wizardry’s party mechanic, a simplified version of Ultima 1’s plot twist and a simplified version of the entire DND beastiary because copyright was more of a suggestion than a rule in 1987.

    Amongst all the homage and blatant theft it is harder for Final Fantasy to establish its own identity, but not impossible. The two core pillars here are the tone and mood carried by Uematsu’s soundtrack and the graphical battle system developed with Hiroyuki Ito’s design and Kazukuo Shibuya’s spritework. You don’t just roll your party but you see them take the field, you see them get wounded, you see them celebrate their victories. This is the first step that differentiates Final Fantasy from the blank slate parties of Wizardry and The Bard’s Tale and the self insert protagonists of Dragon Quest and Ultima, towards the thing that will define not just Final Fantasy but JRPGs as a whole; the RPG not just as a vessel for player agency and scenario design but a form through which you can express characters. Party members you care about for reasons beyond their utility to you. Characters you invest in. Characters you would laugh and cry for. Characters you would harass Kazushige Nojima over for your shipping wars. Characters perhaps, you would pull for? Hiroyuki Ito, you are an almost singular genius in the field of game design but I’ve come back from the future and it’s for the greater good, I have to stop you from opening pandora’s box.

    But that’s all in the distant future. Here and now it’s just sprinkles of personality and presentation on what is ultimately a pretty solid Dungeon Crawler. This time for a change I played the PSP version and did the bonus dungeons; everyone who said they suck was right. Why did I do that. You shouldn’t do that.

    The best moment in this game, obviously, is the circle of sages. I love the circle of sages. The game is fairly light on story, and barely has what can be called characters, and chooses to reveal the bulk of the plot in a moment where you reach a village and find twelve sages standing in a circle, who simply explain the whole thing to you, which in what will become Final Fantasy tradition is of course way more complicated than it needs to be for basically no reason. It breaks my heart that no one in Square has thought to recreate this moment in a modern game, just twelve lovingly rendered old guys with their Unreal Engine 5 hair standing in a perfect circle saying shit like “the timestream was broken 2000 years ago but also today, to start the circle of hatred 400 years in the past.” That this has not happened demonstrates a fundemental misunderstanding of why Final Fantasy is good by the powers that be at Square Enix. But I digress.

    Chaos.

  • The Ancient Land of Ys

    The Ancient Land of Ys

    Released: Jun 21, 1987
    Version played: Ys I Chronicles+ (2013)

    There is an invisible third pillar in the development of the first decade of RPG video games. The first pillar is of course Wizardry and Ultima, the two titans that emerged as the commerical successors to the early hobbyist RPG scene of the late 70s, and the golden age of Computer RPGs that followed as the 80s continued. The second pillar is Dragon Quest, combining elements of both with simple adventure game logic to create the Japanese Console RPG, the first domino in a chain that persists to annoying genre name debates up to this very moment. But Japan had computers too, among which developers and players evolved a scene of their own – both before and after Dragon Quest canonised what an RPG looks like. It is a scene that is hard to grapple with in the English speaking part of the world, for whereas ports and fan translations are rife on the Famicom, the various less popular RPGs for various less popular pre-Windows Japanese PC platforms were not so lucky. Safe to say, it was a thriving space in its own right, with tons of developers experimenting with the genre in many diverse ways. By which I mean I understand how reductive I am being when I say this, but nevertheless it must be said. The third pillar was motherfucking Falcom.

    Xanadu sold 400,000 copies in 1985. This is a number that is legitimately bonkers given the size of the market at the time. It was so successful that it led to one of the funniest what if moments in video game history, Richard Garriott himself flying over to Japan to make a licensing deal with Falcolm, uniting the PC RPG giants of both sides of the pacific and cementing their dominance for years to come. It was not to be because it turned out all the art in Xanadu was traced from the Ultima III manual. Quite simply: lmao. One wonders what world we’d be living in if Richard Garriott had the foresight in that moment to let it slide.

    I did not play Xanadu however. I didn’t play Hydilide and I didn’t play Dragon Slayer. I played Ys, an influential and important game in its own right but certainly less foundational a starting point than Dragon Quest and Wizardry when coming to look at the space of PC RPGs in Japan. I would have played Sorcerain but Sorcerain Original, the PS1 remake universally agreed upon to be the best version to play, doesn’t have an English Translation. Look what happens when you step outside of the light of privilege of “being a Final Fantasy fan.” Back in the day we watched Dragon Ball Z two episodes a time on tape, etc. etc.

    The most remarkable thing about Ys is its to this day extremely unique structure. It is a game split entirely in half, the initial open world exploration and levelling, and then ascending the Tower of Darm, the game’s 25 floor final dungeon. As opposed to most RPGs both before and after, where progress in the dungeon is incremental, as you make decisions to stretch your resources to gain as much experience and gold as possible before returning to town and completing the cycle again, Ys locks you in the tower at max level, with no progress aside from equipment gains and losses along the way.

    It is an incredibly effective choice. Dragon Quest uses RPG systems as the foundations on which to build an adventure, but Ys uses RPG systems as texture; as tempo; the rhythm section over which Falcom Sound Team JDK will be adding shredding guitar solos. It works in tandem with the famous bump system, to create a game in which every level gained and gear piece found is a change you immediately feel, taking enemies from walls impeding progress to buckling at your sword. The open fields and the cramped dungeon walls. Pressure and release. Builds and drops. The RPG not as self expression or mechanical challenge but pure backing track. No menus standing between you and the next bar.

    This combines with a light narrative touch that tells a very simple story of getting the Things to stop General Bad Guy from bringing back The Darkness that had been sealed away Hundreds of Years Ago, with Ys choosing to focus less on this rote mechanical story and invest more in the sense of Esteria as an inhabited space. Every NPC is named, they worry about their family in other villages, they complain or make peace with their Islands supernatural stasis, they know each others names and react to the story in real and human ways. That girl that you rescued Adol, she’s waiting by the lake. Should I talk to her? Do you think she’d like me? When you find her sprite staring out at the ocean she tells you she doesn’t even need to get her memory back, she’s already so happy here. But it doesn’t ring true. She’s too important to the plot, and both of you know it.

    It’s little touchest like this that make Ys really sing. The mysterious fae girl who immediately falls in love with you and is some type of reincarnation of the Goddess who exists to power up the shonen chosen one is boring and cliche, so Ys leaves that unsaid and does a really good job focusing on the small moments. The Seer who knew she would die as a result but still chooses to help you has a Grandmother across the Island, and that Grandmother takes care of Feena as she recovers. That Grandmother also has a son who leads the Thieves Guild, who the Mayor wrongly blames for stealing the Town’s supernatural treasure that has protected them until now – but he’d never tell the town. He can’t cause a panic. Lines drawn that didn’t have to be drawn, NPCs relationships crossing over in believable ways, it all creates a real sense of community in Esteria, a world worth saving because you know and care for the people in it.

    Also the soundtrack is absolutely incredible. Like you already knew that but god damn.

  • The Bard’s Tale II: The Destiny Knight

    The Bard’s Tale II: The Destiny Knight

    Released: Dec 31, 1986
    Version played: The Bard’s Tale Trilogy (2018)

    I do not have much to say about The Bard’s Tale II.

    The Destiny Knight is not a bad game, but it is a much worse game than its predecessor, despite key steps forward in basically every area. There are more dungeons, there are more towns, more puzzles and more story. By which I mean there’s like three lines of story. But one of them is a plot twist! That ain’t nothing in 1986.

    And it’s a game that feels like it never ends. Not just because it is much longer, but because every battle is harder and more involved. There’s no push and pull, no difficulty spikes and cliffs, the tightening of the balance between your party and the enemies has somewhat unintuitively made the game much worse.

    How much slack should you give your players is a question that can never be resolved, for every player is different. Some want to grind and overpower the whole game, some want to be challenged in every fight. I tend to prefer a mix of both, with a leaning towards easier individual fights when the challenge is dungeon exploration and resource management, and tough mechanical puzzles of skill and knowledge in boss fights. I am a simply raised by Final Fantasy, I am who I am. The Destiny Knight instead greatly expands the enemies options while not really giving you many more tools to deal with them. There is a final Archmage class, and it’s helpful, but its tools are nowhere near enough to walk over the mobs here, spread out as they are among 90’ sized battlefields. This means every fight you have to be at the top of your game, and these dungeons go on forever. If Dragon Quest is no mechanics and all pacing, the language of the genre repurposed to punctuate and heighten moments along a simple hero’s journey then The Destiny Knight is the exact opposite, a gruelling monotomous slog.

    The dungeon design is actually greatly improved, with the increased number of dungeons meaning each can be designed around its own mechanical gimmick. There are some really fucking terrible dungeons in here, but they are identifiably terrible, in a Zeldaesque way. No one likes the one where you can’t use magic. But at the same time, there’s a dungeon where you can’t use magic.

    Each dungeon culminates in a Trial, which is one of those 80s sequel ideas that people call experimental when trying to be nice. These are part riddle-solving, part exploration, part combat and sometimes part plain old luck. The riddles are so much more obtuse than in the first game that in this modern age you will simply be looking these up 80% of the time, but even that can’t help much when a Trial requires you to complete a series of steps seven times in a row with no feedback that it’s working til the entire process is complete. I like to think of myself as open hearted when it comes to playing old games, and I think I certainly am, but sometimes you have to summon your inner Angry Video Game Nerd. What, indeed, were they thinking?

  • Might and Magic Book I: The Secret of the Inner Sanctum

    Might and Magic Book I: The Secret of the Inner Sanctum

    I did not finish this one, though not for lack of trying. The wonderful PC Engine version, with a full soundtrack and beautiful spritework finally got a fan translation recently so I made it my version of choice, but the further I got into the game the more and more it just would not stop crashing. And it broke my heart, because this game is really damn good.

    It does not make a particularly strong first impression. The choice to make the entire world, essentially, one contiguous dungeon initially felt offputting to me. Ultima may have shallow dungeon crawling and kind of crappy combat but the one thing it had, the thing that Dragon Quest knew to steal almost 1 for 1, is the abstracted overworld. Dungeon Crawling isn’t so much an activity done inside a dungeon so much as it is a gameplay style that evokes a certain tone and mood. Wizardry’s first person perspective, the inability to see what is mere steps away, create an ever present anxiety and tension that is not present in that game when you’re going shopping. In Might and Magic, you have to individually map out every single town and even inside their walls aren’t safe from random encounters. There’s towns, dungeons and castles – all connected by a massive overworld, and every moment takes place from the perspective of the desperate first person crawl.

    It leads to a game that is slow and deliberate – some might say tedious – but I started to be won over after I gained my first few levels and visited the tavern to listen to the local rumours.

    The Bard’s Tale had puzzles, but its hints were cryptic riddles, that feel like they encourage a more collective style puzzle solving that persists through the genre to this day. Might of Magic is far more direct; the game is the antithesis of Dragon Quest in every way and yet the one thing it shares is the clarity of communication when it comes to what to do next. You are rewarded very directly for talking to everyone, exploring the towns to their fullest. The overworld is littered with signs pointing you on your way. If you pay attention, Fast Travel isn’t just convenient and easy but neccessary for avoiding the dangerous monsters that lurk in the wilds. Once you get used to its rhythms, Might and Magic is ultimately not a Dungeon Crawler in the literal sense – when everything is a dungeon, nothing is – you aren’t descending through a linear progression you’re crisscrossing your way through a vast and open world with your smarts and inginuity as much as you are with your sword.

    Not to say your sword isn’t important. Combat has far more in battle complexity than anything I’ve played so far, and while the game allows for tons of freedom in party composition (even dynamic multi-party playthroughs are supported, as you can rest different characters in different inns all over the game world), it is clearly intended and balanced for six characters of the six classes avaliable. Battles are tough from the start and you are immediately out-numbered and out-classed by the foes the game send your way. There is no easing you in. Yet you gain power relatively quickly, and with a couple of levels and a few good equipement slots you can hold your own and make progress through encounters that seem completely unwinnable at first blush. It’s certainly time consuming but incredibly satisfying, which is really a summation of the entire game.

    Which brings us back to the start and the tragic reality of these old western RPGs. Ultima is owned by EA, and Might and Magic owned by Ubisoft. These companies are absolutely never going to give a fuck enough to port them to modern storefronts beyond letting GOG host DOS roms, let alone to preserve all the various versions from the wild west years before PC development simply meant Windows. I couldn’t have known when I started, but the fanpatch I used was ultimately too unstable and eventually was crashing every ten minutes. The translation was pretty poor throughout and there were definitely occasional moments of garbled characters and unclear text. These games are important, I’m going back and playing them because I believe that in my heart, and it is wild to me how little respect for the history of these things there is. The Bard’s Tale trilogy is a great exception, but it only exists because of a kickstarter. The situation is a little better with JRPGs but only with the flagship franchises of companies that still exist. I tried to get Xanadu working as it is unquestionably a pivotal moment in the development of pre-Dragon Quest RPGs and simply could not do it.

    We’re not exactly talking rarities here. These are some of the most successful games of one of the most popular genres in the the medium’s short history. It’s a crying shame. I imagine we will continue to run into these roadblocks all the way through the 2000s as I make this journey. But shout out to all the unpaid volunteers who develop emulators, fanpatches, romhacks and the like and actually keep this history alive. You the real heroes here.

    One final note: if your twist is that your fantasy story is secretly sci fi I will be ultimately sad that I had to play the game with kings and thees and thous when I could have been on a fuckin spaceship the whole time. No need to play coy with me.

  • Dragon Quest

    Dragon Quest

    Released: May 27, 1986
    Version played: Switch Port (2019)

    It’s still a masterpiece.

    That’s the thing you have to understand about Dragon Quest. Yes it’s simple, not even reaching the level of what might commonly be referred to as “game mechanics.” Every battle is a pure numbers game with the only strategy being that you should probably heal when your health gets low. Yes, it’s also grindy, even in its modern ports. To defeat the Dragonlord you will have to fight the monsters standing right next to the Dragonlord a whole bunch, while he patiently waits for you to get strong enough to kill him.

    None of that matters.

    Actually it’s even more than that, the simplicity isn’t a blemish to be tolerated by the burgeoning start of a new genre, it is in fact the central pillar of Dragon Quest’s genius. To reduce Wizardry and Ultima to their barest essentials until nothing remains, a series of keys and locks spread across a vast open world, Dragon Quest reinvents the RPG as a true adventure game. The rate at which new clues are introduced to the player, and solutions made clear is so precisely calibrated as to make the game almost impossible to put down. Oh let me just get that one shield. Actually now I’ve got that I can see what’s in this shrine. Wait, he needs a harp? I think they mentioned one was buried with Galen in Galenholm. Why on earth does the Princess tell me my distance from the Castle how could that possibly be useful – oh shit it’s decoding the path to the Mark of Erdrick! And before you know it it’s been five hours and the Dragonlord is dead.

    Not content with inventing the adventure game once, Yuji Horii decided to do it twice. If Portopia is a playable detective movie then Dragon Quest is a fantasy epic, as you gather legendary relics alongside proof of your noble bloodline and rid the world of evil once more. It is this second person nature which defines Dragon Quest, the genre starts not with a “silent protagonist” or even a “self insert,” but truly just “you,” the only party member, the hero, star of choose-your-own-adventure books and childhood fantasies.

    “You” is crucially not anyone, “you” is Male and Young. I wouldn’t call these defining characteristics so much as boundaries that Dragon Quest places on its imagined audience. The youth of the protagonist is more malleable and as such more interesting, Dragon Quest is famously an all ages franchise to the point where today we can be honest and say it is for old ass men. The game is made with a knowing and warm nostalgia, its goofiness twinned with a hint of melancholy that comes from looking back on the simplicity of childhood, a hint that others like Shigesato Itoi (Mother) and Kaz Ayabe (Boku No Natsuyasumi) would drag to the forefront of their works. But “your” gender in Dragon Quest is etched in stone; if Dragon Quest has a narrative it is that of a boy becoming a man through their own strength and ancestry. “You” are better, and certainly special, blessed by holy lineage, but you must also prove yourself worthy of such a status through hard fought masculine strength, courage and resilience. You leave home and brave the wilderness to become strong, and with that strength slay dragons, for which you are rewarded with the undying love of the princess.

    This isn’t a biting criticism, I don’t think Dragon Quest would be better if it deconstructed the foundational myths of its genre and their interfacing with gender as a method by which heroism and bravery itself is made masculine. It’s a fucking game where you press A and every monster dies. I bring this up to highlight the earnestness with which Dragon Quest reproduces its genre. This is not a game where the church is evil; this is not a game where you kill god. It is a straightforward restoration fantasy, its towns filled with comedic and charming characters but be they hapless, wise or terse they are all generally good people who help you if they can. Similarly, the lineup of incredible creature designs are merely beasts, either creatures of the wild or minions of the Dragonlord. They don’t have culture or personhood, they exist entirely as cute and contextless designs to fight. There are kings and nobility but no aristocracy, the signifiers of wealth but no class. All that is sanded off for pure fantasy, a world that is unreal but instantly familiar in its strict adherance to genre conventions.

    Over the decades we are about to see a lot of games that attempt to introduce some of these complications and critiques into the body of their work, but at the same time still embrace the core fantasy and almost rip themselves in two at the sheer dissonance of the attempt. Dragon Quest has no such insecurity. It loves fantasy stories, you love fantasy stories, let’s slay the Dragon and marry a princess.

  • The Bard’s Tale

    The Bard’s Tale

    Released: Dec 31, 1985
    Version played: The Bard’s Tale Trilogy (2018)

    I fell into The Bard’s Tale like a black hole. Twenty hours on the first game alone. When I closed my eyes I could see the grids of Skara Brae. When I sat in silence I could hear the spell sound effect clipping over itself as it activated 96 times in a row. I made a party. It wasn’t right. I subbed in some new guys and benched some old. I class changed my Mages through the perfect sequence of the four magical classes, and for my foresight was rewarded with three death dealing Wizards on the back row. We mapped the town, we solved the riddles (I had to google less than I thought, honestly!), and we freed Skara Brae from its icy confinement; yet honestly I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface.

    The Bards Tale takes Wizardry and expands it to bursting like it was a balloon. It’s a very modern feeling successor. By which I mean the processes of streamlining rough edges while expanding scope and featureset was as much a part of video games in the 80s as it is today. We didn’t just forget about the Purity of Design overnight and decide to make Assassin’s Creed 23; this is how we got there. This is the path we were always on. Wizardry is, as I said when I played it, a perfect game. Not in that it’s the greatest game ever made but that it is elemental in its design. Nothing could be removed, nothing taken away. It was born whole.

    So here comes The Bards Tale to cram, as I understand it, pretty much the entire rest of D&D in here. The class list is significantly larger, and the variance between each even greater. There are more status effects, more spells, more synergies, more enemies and more dungeon. You’re not descending down into the depths, you’re exploring the cellars and catacombs and castles and keeps of Skara Brae, and as such for how similar it is (the core really is identical) it could not feel more different. This is a game where you are free to adventure, explore, experiment with builds and party composition, find the most efficent grinding spots and just generally break it over your knee. The cost and risk of resurrection has been significantly reduced. Death is a timesink, but not a catastrophe. It is a minor offset. And hey you’ll get some more levels getting that money back.

    This is not a mistake. The game is not “unbalanced,” it is invitingly uneven. It has weaknesses, and it wants you to exploit them; discovering them is half of the fun. It is not a game of min-maxing so much as it is a game that delights in the discovery of what the boundaries of min and max truly are. Frustrated with my damage output, I take my useless goddamn rogue out of my party and replace him with a brand new level 1 conjourer. She starts out useless but I’m fairly sure if I keep her alive long enough she’ll catch up… before you know it I can cast three group destroying spells in a single turn. It’s fucking over for those 99 skeletons.

    The same applies in reverse. This is the joy of the RPG, what makes it such a compelling framework from the earliest days of the medium til it will one day burns with the rest of us, an RPG is a system that provides a framework for expression and discovery within a certain possibility space. Alright, I destroyed the game with three mages; how would all melee classes do? Can you beat Dark Souls level at 1 when every enemy is Manus? Click now to watch my hardcore nuzlocke stream of Radical Red; whenever a pokemon faints I get kicked in the balls. If it speaks to a flaw in our nature that what we largely do with these systems as participants of art is find the path of least resistance then it speaks to the opposite that the challenge run persists, that the drive is there forty years ago in The Bard’s Tale as it is today in Elden Ring.

    I certainly won’t be doing anything like that but The Bard’s Tale was like having water thrown on my face, being reminded of what RPGs actually are. As I journey further through this forest of RPGs I will let go of the quest for perfection. Sometimes you need to roll a weird party, worst that can happen is they can’t clear. That’s okay.

    The most exciting moment of the whole game was when I unlocked the spell “Phase Door,” and suddenly my entire relationship with the dungeons, with the grid at the heart of the game binding everything together, suddenly and irrevocably changed. I could remove the wall. I could make my own shortcuts. In a single moment, previously impassable obstacles became trivialities and I understood the scope of possibility that The Bard’s Tale was dealing with. A rugpull moment like that can only work once or twice before the entire structure of the game falls out beneath itself, and The Bard’s Tale shows restraint in just how far you can break it, but it’s not afraid to introduce mechanics that completely rewrite fundemental rules of the world; and make experimenting with them its core mode of play. The joy of Dungeons and Dragons now avaliable on your computer.

  • Ultima IV: Quest of the Avatar

    Ultima IV: Quest of the Avatar

    Released: Sep 16, 1985
    Version played: DOS (1987)

    I’m going to keep it real with you, I did not finish Ultima IV. I didn’t finish Ultimas I through III either, though I sampled them a little just for context. It didn’t seem worth writing about any up til now though, and I stuck with this one for much, much longer, because the seeds of something beautiful begin to sprout here.

    Ultima is like the total opposite of Wizardry in that Wizardry is perfect in an almost elemental sense. There’s nothing that needed to be added or removed. Wizardry is Wizardry and you can go on Steam right now and buy a ten, fifty a hundred games that are still pretty much just Wizardry. Nothing is like Ultima.

    Richard Garriot’s ambition with these games so far outstrips the capability of the hardware at the time that the sheer fact that these even shipped is an absolute miracle. Ultima IV has a fully developed world full of named NPCs, a (less intense but still present) hunger and survival system, an entirely naturally occuring form of fast travel that requires understanding of the phases of the moon to decode, full party control in grid based combat, a vast bespoke open world replete with towns, shrines and dungeons, different forms of terrain that affect your navigation – and so on, and so forth, you get the idea. And I didn’t even mention the morality system that is the game’s entire raison d’être.

    It’s utterly overwhelming. This game released the same year as Super Mario and Gradius. No wonder that to a certain type of kid this game was utterly life changing, it must have seemed like the absolute coolest work of art, utterly blowing open the possibilities of a scene that truly hadn’t exited the bleeps and bloops era yet in the cultural consciousness.

    And yet, as I pushed further and further into Ultima IV the true heart of its brilliance was none of that. Ultimately its systemic complexity was a massive timesink attached to the real star of the show, the dialogue system and quest design. Talking to NPCs, figuring out keywords, understanding how information from one NPC could give new context in another conversation, the way all these different – and ultimately extremely simple – prompts interlocked to provide a true and genuine sense of discovery was constantly enthralling. The actual bulk of the video game of Ultima IV, the exploration and combat, is this strange mix of far too simple and far too complex that it simultaneously overwhelms and bores me, but when take a route you heard about in town and find the pass to reach a new destination, and ask the innkeeper about the rumour you heard three towns over – the guy said ask around town – and the game responds back to your intuition with the next piece of the puzzle; it’s genuinely electric.

    But it’s also extremely funny to walk away from the most ambitious and complex game of 1985 going yeah this would have been better as a pure text adventure.

    One note before moving on: the story here is pretty good finally. I did not like the stories of Ultima I-III, if they can be called such things. But the juxtaposition of self serious fantasy with juvenille reference humour just isn’t my bag at all. I get why the games start like that, they are the passion projects of a literal teenage nerd making goofy games for other teenage nerds, and it certainly is more than a little silly to five years in suddenly say that Lord British, a stupid joke username you go by, is testing you to philosophically ponder the path to true virtue and enlightenment, but the more consistently sincere tone is one that befits the adventure better.

    Interestingly enough this is not a contradiction that has ever gone away. They are spending perhaps billions of dollars to make the new Grand Theft Auto, the most realistic simulated recreation of American Urbanism that money can buy, crafted by a global army of artists working tirelessly for the better part of a decade and also the beer is still going to be called Pißwasser. Perhaps the only conclusion to draw from all this is despite the rapidly changing conditions of the medium’s production there is one constant that remains tragically true; games are usually made by gamers.

  • Wizardry: Proving Grounds of the Mad Overlord

    Wizardry: Proving Grounds of the Mad Overlord

    Released: Sep 01, 1981
    Version played: Digital Eclipse Remake (2024)

    On the very first floor of the very first Wizardry game, in a corridor shrouded in mystical darkness, there is a small room that is impossible to see from the outside. In that room is a grumpy Wizard, and he does not want to be interrupted. He demands you begone, and instantly teleports you back to town. In mechanical terms, this is a simple shortcut that lets you warp out near the elevator rather than journey the now unthreatening first floor. It could have been a simple warp point, the game has tons of them after all. But instead it’s a man. You can’t talk to him and find out what he’s doing down here. He always sends you away.

    Wizardry is basically perfect. The RPG emerges in digital form essentially fully formed, they are still making games that are just fucking Wizardry. But even beyond that, the amount of games and genres that share the core loop of tense exploration leading to difficult combat with the release of returning safely to town to upgrade and do it all over again are so numerous that it is not inaccurate to claim that Wizardry is video games. The sense of atmosphere as you take every step is overbearing and purely mechnical; it’s no wonder this game was such a sensation with wireframe graphics and no music whatsoever. And yet it is the Wizard in the cupboard that is the standout moment. It’s never dwelled on, never explained, but it is the seed that will flourish into something unimaginable at the time. Wizardry’s gameplay loop may be the bones of the genre, but that strange man is the heart; anything could be down here.

    This is Shin Megami Tensei, this is Dungeon Meshi, this is Earthbound, this is Pokemon and this is Dark Souls. This is Planescape Torment, this is Binding of Isaac and this is Morrowind. This is why people play Dungeons and Dragons in real life, this is the worth of a good Dungeon Master, a moment of pure authorship that takes the experience beyond the mechanical. After this moment, you never know what could be on the next tile, and you’re never sure where the boundaries are.

    Unfortunately, Wizardry reserves these moments for its early floors. The first half of the game is somewhat of a test from Trebor, as you explore every crevice to find keys and statues that ultimately unlock the keys to the elevator that takes you down to Werdna’s lair. It is immensely satisfying to put the pieces together, to map out the dungeon physically and understand how information in one place grants you access to somewhere new on an entirely different floor. Wizardry is also Resident Evil, by the way, it really is every video game.

    After recieving the Blue Ribbon and delving down towards the endgame there is disappointingly little to discover. There are no more key items, and if you already know where to go then the spot where you unlock the Blue Ribbon is around 20 or so tiles from the final Boss Rush. The only thing to discover are dead ends, the only thing to do is fight, and the only rewards come from random drops. It is a disappointingly weak second half from a game that starts out so incredibly strong and satisfying, but I can forgive it since they were inventing RPGs after all and also the second half being full of reused content and nowhere near as intricate as the first half is a time honored tradition that the genre continues til this very day.

    But those first few hours are genuinely a miracle, and this is a game I think everyone should play at least once. To see how complete it already is, how little has changed in over 40 years, and how totally engrossing it can be when you give yourself over to the dungeon.