A great post about the use of books and other “remnants of the past” in Final Fantasy IX, and how it relates to Square’s quandries of appealing to a new generation of gamers:
Hey Y’all, been a while! You’re looking beautiful as ever 😉
Thought I’d give you a little bit of an update on my gaming life: of course, as soon as I started recording FFIX LP eps, I saw that Legend of Dragoon was on the PlayStation Store. So, naturally, I abandoned the LP and started playing.
I finished last night, and I’m slowly realizing that I’m turning back into a single-player gamer again.
I’ve played a lot of WoW in my day. I’ve played 931 hours (hours. That’s almost 39 days) of Team Fortress 2. I’ve played almost 450 hours of Awesomenauts. And y’know what? I wouldn’t trade that time in for the world. I’ve had an awesome time playing those games, preferably with friends, but also just flying solo. For the most part, it’s been really, really fun.
However, after finishing LoD last night, I’ve figured out what has kept me going for those hundreds of hours in multiplayer games, and why I think that single-player, at least for me, is the smarter, healthier, less-time-consuming way to go.
It’s no secret that multiplayer game developers want you to get addicted to their games: I’m sure most large sellers of… well, anything, are doing everything they can to manipulate human psychology into making people buy what they sell. That’s not inherently a bad thing; it’s just the easiest way to sell stuff. This addiction is extremely valuable, especially in the case of multiplayer games that never end, and especially if there’s a monthly fee attached to a game. If the devs can keep coming up with new and exciting ways to keep you, the player, pushing the “reward” button, then bam, they’ve got what’s likely to be a loyal customer.
Recently, however, I’ve been feeling like there’s something… missing.
After one of my classic rage-uninstalls of Awesomenauts (something I’ve done countless times), I began to think ahead: what’s my end-game? What’s the point of playing all these Awesomenauts matches, and being so pissy when I lose? Say I get to the top of the heap, become numero uno in the entire world. What then?
There’s no point. Of course there’s no point. I’ll get to the top, probably feel really excited for a moment, drink four or five Miller High Lifes (nah, I’ll go Heady Topper. This is a special occasion), and plummet right back down the leaderboards. Even in the best-case scenario, I’ll be #1 at the end of a season, then have to start right back from square one.
I’m being needlessly negative here – of course, I love playing Awesomenauts. It’s a great game. It’s really fun, especially with my friends, and fun is a totally legit reason to play any game in and of itself. If you’re enjoying it, that’s the point of the game. Good job.
I digress. Getting back to Legend of Dragoon.
I beat it last night, and seeing that “The End” screen gave me a sense of satisfaction unlike anything I’ve experienced in Awesomenauts or TF2. My total play time was about 51 hours, and I accomplished every goal I set for myself in the game: got a bunch of super-dank weapons; leveled my party to almost-godlike proportions; kicked the final boss’ ass (and the optional superboss, to boot). I did everything I wanted to do in the game, and at the end… That was it. There are no leaderboards to climb, no rankings to compare myself to my friends. It was a personal journey, one with a beginning and an end, and now it’s over.
When I play Awesomenauts or TF2, I look at the characters less as “characters in a game, each with their own personality, and trying to accomplish a goal”, and more as stat blocks: anonymous avatars whose abilities will, hopefully, allow me to crush the opposing team’s anonymous avatars. There is nothing wrong with this. The personal connections I feel to the characters in single-player RPGs is certainly stronger. I root for them to achieve their hopes, their dreams, their goals; I am with them through times of happiness and sorrow, and feel empathy for them. This is because I feel like we’ve been on a journey together: it’s not a 20-minute match that can simply be restarted again and again. Both the characters and the player grow and learn throughout the process of playing an RPG, and when the journey is over, there’s a sense of finality that, while playing these multiplayer games, I forgot I was searching for.
Of course, I have since reinstalled Awesomenauts. I fully intend to keep playing it. It’s fun as shit. But I don’t think I’m going to be quite as… intense about it. I’m out of the XP Rat Race, the endless quest for higher standing. It brings me passing, hyperactive joy, but not happiness. Not satisfaction.
I had forgotten where to find that feeling, the reason I fell in love with games in the first place. Thanks to Legend of Dragoon, I’ve found it again.
To celebrate Final Fantasy IX turning 14 last week, here are 14 ways the game still holds up.