Suikoden was Something Special

I've wondered for years just what it was about the Genso Suikoden series that stood out to me among other JRPGs. Was it the base building? The six man battles? The rune system? The focus on war and militaristic themes?

The six person battles are a nod towards the massive scope of the series. Most RPGs have three or four at most.

I mean, yes. All of those things matter and help to craft a special identity for the series.

But what really gets me is how the series is structured like a set of novels. The dialogue and mood and setting are all relatively passive and low-key compared to the overtly outlandish, goofy, or fantastical JRPGs most of us were and are used to. Tropes - anime or otherwise - tend to bleed into video games almost as a gold standard, and JRPGs are the poster child for heavy usage of said tropes. For example: Hotblooded hero. Stoic, powerful villain. If not that, then a twist or subversion on said trope.

But in Suikoden, aside from the runes, the fantasy element is much more akin to something like Lord of the Rings. Sure, there's Dwarves and monsters and Elves and dragons, but the humans are, for the most part, a lot more human than in other RPGs. When the fantasy elements do come in, they never go over the top. Even the runes, which grant our heroes supernatural powers, are distinct in that it's consistently reiterated that it's the runes, not the people using them, that are supernatural. This helps your party and your army to feel, for the most part, more relatable and human.

A lot of this grounded nature stems from the series' inspiration from the Chinese Water Margin novel, but a lot of it could also likely be attributed to the very nature of the game. It's not about a set of superheroes with amazing powers saving the world, or even a toned down take on that. It's about regular humans wanting to make their country a better place to live.

The plot and setting are compartmentalized to a specific region of a larger world, creating a more down to earth, grounded atmosphere. Much of the game centers on recruiting ordinary people, from blacksmiths to cooks to cartographers to people to do your army's laundry. This adds a personal touch to the otherwise mundane aspects of the Suikoverse, making even the lowly peasant feel similar to the soldier in your army.

Each game is confined to one region of the world, allowing it to be explored more fully, piece by piece.

And, speaking of the setting/s, they likewise feel much more grounded than most RPGs thanks to the heavy political themes and heavy inspiration from real world cultures. The Scarlet Moon Empire of the first game is a blend of East Asian and European medieval aesthetics, the Jowston-Highland region of the second is heavily inspired by traditional city states and kingdoms, the Grasslands of the third and their juxtaposition with the knightly land of Zexen represent the conflict between tribal and developed society, and so on. And, thanks to the recruitment aspect of the game mentioned earlier, you visit every nook and cranny of these compartmentalized areas, making them feel immensely personal and fully realized. You feel strategist Mathiu's lament at being brought back into the world of war through the peacefully depicted school village of Seika. You feel what protagonist Tir McDohl has to give up by leaving the prosperous capital of the empire through the extended scenes with his family and friends and recognized prestige during the intro, and the contrast that has with the lesser villages and towns and people in the Empire. Everything, big and small, is made important.

That even extends from game to game. Each game's regional conflict affects the rest of the world. Characters move countries and appear one or two games later. We watch familiar characters age over time. Sometimes we even go backwards and see the tragic past of people we've met before. There's an amazing sense of continuity throughout all five mainline games.

Riou, the hero of Suikoden II, meets with the hero of the first game, Tir McDohl.

I really hope Konami, evil as they may be in this day and age, gives us one last hurrah for this series someday, because it was truly something special. If not, I can only hope it one day gets a spiritual successor.

The Magical Dreamscape of Final Fantasy X

Bonus: this article is spoiler free!

Something about this game was otherworldly, not only in the literal sense of which is manifested in the narrative, but also in the way it was presented.

This was when Squaresoft was at their absolute height, and the swan song of "Square Prime," in my opinion. They'd gone full-in with extreme graphics and innovation in the PS1 titles, which were great successes, and FFX was their chance to showcase what they could do with new hardware. And they nailed it.

Let me go over what I love about it piece by piece:

There is a central aesthetic theme. That theme is tropical scenery and water. It's pervasive throughout the whole game in extremely creative ways. Soft colors like blue are prevalent everywhere. Look at Macalania Forest,

or Tidus' sword,

or the paradise island of Besaid,

and it's very clear that there was a desire to convey a very specific mood with its environments and environmental setpieces. It's calming and serene and cool and natural, and it works even better coming off of the (extremely complimentary and still water-based) technological wonderland of Zanarkand in the prologue.

Which leads me to my next point - the world is made to feel sufficiently alien through Tidus, who comes from a world much more similar to our own (despite still being firmly fantastical). Everything that wows us wows him, everything that seems weird or depressing to us is the same to him. The game and its fantastical atmosphere are conveyed perfectly through the medium that is Tidus, and it certainly helps to sell what the game is going for.

And then there's a major narrative device that the game relies on, which is contrast. The entire game is about contrast. Religion vs. Freedom, Technology vs. Nature, Submission vs. Rebellion, Life vs. Death. Even the ordinarily calm environments are permeated with a constant sense of dread and melancholy because of Sin, who can appear anywhere, and at any time. The father Tidus knows is a deadbeat dad, but the Jecht Spira knows is a renowned hero. Everything contrasts with something else, and the game uses this to make its characters - and the player - question what's really the right answer to certain problems, or what to think about certain people.

Praise be to Yevon.

There's also a sense of intrinsic mystery to everything about the game. Why does Sin exist? If Zanarkand was destroyed a thousand years ago, how did Tidus end up in Spira - is it an alternate universe, time travel, or what? How did Jecht and Auron know Tidus' Zanarkand? Why does Blitzball exist in both universes? The game is riddled with questions from the very beginning, and it delivers a satisfying answer to all of them by the end.

The music also does a wonderful job setting a melancholy, dreamlike tone throughout the game. Wandering Flame or To Zanarkand are obvious examples of this, but even the battle theme is sort of bubbly and subdued, just like everything else in the game. Seymour's battle theme makes you feel like you're caught in a sort of trance despite being generally upbeat, but still manages to have a sinister undertone. The audio is on point.

This game was a wonderful experience. I loved almost everything about it.