Celebrating the anniversary of Majora’s Mask
Majora's Mask is as simple a game as it is a complex one. As heartwarming a game as it is soul crushing. In all my years as a player, I have yet to encounter another experience in media that affects me as deeply as Majora's Mask did, on such a personal and emotional level. The following is a shrine to an overlooked classic, a letter to those who didn't experience it, and my personal take on what I hold up as my favorite video game.
The premise
Anyone who picked up a gaming magazine back in 1999 should understand the premise of Majora's Mask, but assuming you've been in the dark all these years, let me break it down for you. You play as Link, the same Link who slew Ganon back in 1998. The game begins with a scene of our hero riding Epona through the Lost Woods. Those who took the time to read the manual would have known that Link had set off on a quest to find, "A lost and beloved friend", or something to that effect. Most assume that he was seeking Navi.
Events quickly spiral out of control as we are introduced to the antagonist of the game, Majora's Mask. Everything a Zelda fan holds dear is lost, including the familiarity of Link's human form. After having Tatl fill the role that Navi has left open, and a brief foray through a wooded section, we're introduced to Termina and the crisis that has befallen it. The player is then given three days (about 54 minutes of real time), to find a way to the top of the Clock Tower, retrieve his Ocarina, and defeat Majora's Mask.
If the player is successful in this first mission, he will retrieve his Ocarina. Upon playing the Song of Time, you are warped back to the moment you first stepped out into Clock Town, and everything is as it was before the Moon started its final descent. Congratulations, you've been introduced to the main gimmick of Majora's Mask, and given your first taste of the God-like powers you now possess. With your human form restored, you'll set out on a quest to cleanse four temples of the evil that resides within them.
The execution
We've reached a point of divergence. Here is where most fans either become enamored with the world of Termina and explore it in full, or become daunted by the strict limits of the three day cycle and give up in favor something less, well, strange. Those of you who gave up, take note. If you play Majora's Mask the "right" way, you'll find that repetition rarely rears her ugly head.
I'm well aware of how wrong that last sentence sounds to anyone who is a fan of Zelda. Up until Majora's Mask, Zelda games were instantly familiar to returning fans. An emphasis was put on adventuring at your own pace and leisure, and while there was often an impending threat, it had never been pertinent to the point that if you were to stand still, there would be ramifications. Majora's Mask takes that convention and throws it out the window. No more unfocused wandering. You have to have a purpose, a schedule. When you begin a new three day cycle, you'd best have a clear idea of what you wanted to accomplish in mind, lest you waste time and can't accomplish your goals.
Luckily, players are granted a boon in two hidden songs, both involving the Song of Time. If the player plays the Song of Time backwards, time will be slowed to half speed, effectively extending your 54 minute timer to nearly two hours. If you needed to advance ahead to a specific time on a specific day, you can play the Song of Time with double notes, warping you ahead twelve in-game hours. It's not a perfect system, but with these two things in mind, it becomes far more manageable.
Anyone who plays Majora's Mask will have to learn how to use the Song of Time effectively, in all three of its incarnations. A good example of this crops up later in the game, when you set off to complete the fourth and final dungeon. The player is presented with a long and arduous event in the form of Ikana Castle, a dungeon that you are required to complete to complete in order to learn a song that will grant you access to Stone Tower Temple. In the process of gaining access to Ikana Canyon, exploring and conquering Ikana Castle, and first entering Stone Tower Temple, I returned to the first day three times. It's important to note that although I returned to the past three times over this course of events, I did not encounter any repetition. Using strategy, I allotted time to objectives, warped back to the first day, and used the Song of Soaring to return to Ikana Canyon with progress made.
Majora's Mask is not impossible to play, nor is it repetitive. The potential is there, but for gamers of our caliber, it is unlikely.
The little things
This is the crux of my love for Majora's Mask. The little things. Never before had I played a game that put such a strong emphasis on bringing a world to life, replacing a set of static NPC's with ones that lived out their lives from day to day, getting into trouble, and giving off the impression that these minor elements of the story were living, breathing beings.
Instead of waxing on for several thousand words about each individual moment, as it would be very possible for me to do so, I've picked out the two moments that have stuck with me, that I can remember in excruciating detail. One is the story of a Goron who had trouble moving on after death, haunted by the fact that his people were suffering. What stuck me the most is encompassed by a simple, thirty second cutscene. The other takes place over the course of an entire three day cycle and tells a story of unrequited love and unwavering devotion.
The first event involves the spirit of a Goron named Darmani the Third. After Majora cursed Snowhead, the home of the Gorons, with an eternal winter, Darmani took it upon himself to go to Snowhead Peak and cleanse it of the evil that had manifested itself there. The blizzard blew him into the valley below, killing him. Upon arriving at the Mountain Village and obtaining the Eye of Truth, you'll be able to see his spirit. He'll implore you to follow him, and if you comply, you'll be taken to his grave.
It's here that you are presented with his harrowing tale and are forced to heal his wounded soul. A short cinematic plays, something that I cannot imagine will have the same impact on you as it did on an eight-year old me nine years ago. This cutscene marks the first time, and one of the only times, a game has nearly brought me to tears. It could have been my loose understanding of what death was, or it could have held a relevance with me at the time that I can't recall. However, in spite of this, that short scene has stuck with me, and made a huge impact on me as a person. It's the scene that made me reexamine the video games I had previously played, a scene that turned me into a little artfag that is consistently expecting more from video games as a medium and is constantly disappointed.
The second event is much more subtle, and far more difficult to pull off. It's also incredibly easy to miss, as the entirety of the sequence is optional. I could have recounted it here in text format, but I've instead decided to embed the crucial moment, the one that made the whole of the experience worth it.
You're given a few minutes of in game time to return to Clock Town, to be there when Kafei meets Anju in a room within the Stock Pot Inn. If you carry out this task, you'll be stuck waiting until there's barely a minute left, nervous that you'll get caught in the destruction that the Moon will soon wrought. Kafei will arrive in the nick of time and you'll be treated to a touching scene, as well as the Couple's Mask, something you can use to get a Piece of Heart. Despite the issue of Majora having turned Kafei into a child and in spite of their impending destruction, they embrace. They utter a final line before you're given the order to flee; it's a line that has stuck with me over any other moment from this game.
"Please take refuge. We are fine here. We shall greet the morning... together."
B'aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw.
The time system may have been stressful, and initially hard to grasp, but thanks to moments like these, it was entirely worth it. If you haven't played Majora's Mask, I implore that you give it the fair chance it deserves. If you have played it, but didn't enjoy it, I'd make the suggestion that you return to it with the knowledge of the slowed time flow and with a greater emphasis on managing time. Hell, if you knew about those things, maybe this game just isn't for you. To everyone else, thank you for sticking with me for this long article. I admit that I wrote it more for me than for you.
My thoughts on Final Fantasy VI
This blog has been a long time coming. Fresh off of completing Final Fantasy VI on the SNES, III if you're one ofthose people, I assumed that the denizens of the Internet would like to know what I thought of the experience. Conceited of me, isn't it? After a failed blog attempt that I have now hidden in shame, several sleepless nights, and a few kilos of cocaine, I'm finally ready to tell you all about it.
As an experience, Final Fantasy VI is fantastic. It doesn't do much to hide the fact that it's a traditional JRPG, but honestly, it doesn't need to. The Esper system provided enough variety to keep me engaged, and the diversity of the fourteen character party provided more than enough unique abilities to sate my lust for complex battle systems. I'm getting ahead of myself though, why don't we start with the basics?
As some of you know, Final Fantasy VI takes place in a steampunk setting, throwing you, the player, into the middle of a war between an evil Empire and a resistance faction known as the Returners. Sure smells like Star Wars in here, doesn't it? The Empire has recently acquired a new weapon known as Magitek armor that has allowed them to stamp out most all resistance and declare itself ruler of the free world. The story centers around Terra, a young girl whose mysterious ability to use magic has helped fuel Magitek's development and the Empire's rise to power. After a few dozen hours of epic adventuring, we come to find out that Espers are the source of magic, some things about the War of the Magi, Terra is half human, half esper, and after a continent is raised into the sky by Emperor Gesthal and Kefka, Kefka destroys the world.
Personally, while I found the overall story of Final Fantasy VI interesting and engaging, the little moments nestled inside it are what kept me coming back for more. Though I was perfectly happy to infiltrate a Magitek research facility to learn more about the evils of the Empire, I found the death of Cyan's family, a moment that takes up mere minutes of gameplay, more compelling. Sure, defending the Esper Tritoch against the Empire's army and battling Kefka atop a cliff was satisfying, but it pales in comparison to discovering the truth behind Shadow's past.
What about the opera house scene, dragon boy? Uh, what about it? Sure, it's entertaining, and it's a break from the relatively typical fantasy fair the rest of the game off , but I don't understand why people laud this scene as one of the finest moments in Final Fantasy VI, let alone the series as a whole. It didn't have near the impact on me that the aforementioned little moments in the game did, and when it was all over with, I shrugged and moved on with my quest.
More than the story, I greatly enjoyed the combat. To be honest, I can't give you a very clear reason as to why, suffice it to say that I did. Perhaps it was giving Locke the ability to kill any enemy in one turn? I can't say for sure. What I can do is show you how I fared against Kefka's monument to pain and the Godly magician himself in three videos found here, here, and here.
Final Fantasy VI helped to confirm a few things for me as a long time fan of the Final Fantasy series. For one thing, I learned why I can play any of the titles in the series nearly endlessly like some people play Gradius III and Ikaruga, and not feel like I'm wasting time. It's a little weird, possibly a bit stupid, and it's very likely you won't understand it.
Each Final Fantasy title is familiar to me, regardless of whether or not I've played it before. There is a system in place that I've experienced before, a musical style I've grown fond of, and a sense of working my way from a level one wimp to someone who can kill a God without flinching. Aside from satisfaction via gameplay, the cast of characters in each title is one I'm instantly familiar with. When I pop in a Final Fantasy, it's like I'm visiting old friends. Is this sad and nerdy? Fuck yeah it is, but it's also true.
When I had first entered the World of Ruin, and it dawned upon me that I was going to be marching around looking for my lost comrades, that the overall plot had come to a griding halt, I was initially discouraged. As I traveled the world, peering into the shattered lives of my lost companions, I realized that I was grateful. I'd been given an opportunity to understand the fictional people I had been traveling with for so long, a brief glimpse into their tiny, pixelated lives.
Of course, Final Fantasy IX was brilliant enough to weave moments like that into the overall plot of the game, but we're not talking about that right now. We're talking about final Fantasy VI, and it's a damn fine game in its own right. You should play it if you haven't, and if you have, you should play it again. So sayeth I.
Final Fantasy XII is a personal diamond in the rough
I've been working my way through Final Fantasy XII for the past few days. After the tidal wave of positive reviews the game received back in 2005 (2006?), I made sure to pick it up. I then discovered that the Internet did not share the same positive reaction, and after a couple of hours with the game, I retired it to my shelf. It's been sitting there ever since, mostly forgotten. Well, you know what Internet? I think you were wrong. I think Final Fantasy XII is one of the finest crafted video games I have ever had the pleasure to play, and I curse myself for not realizing it sooner.
Those who believe that the characters aren't as memorable as those in Final Fantasies past, shut it. As far as overall design goes, yes, I can see your point. The majority of the party is made up of fair-skinned Aryan people with English accents. Aesthetically speaking, they aren't as interesting as the cast of Final Fantasy VI or Final Fantasy IX, but they make up for it with their personalities. Despite her somewhat revealing clothing, Princess Ashe manages to make her mark as a strong female lead, something I was surprised to see in a Final Fantasy game, of all places. She'll often chastise Vaan for treating her as if she were weak, and instead of being a typecast magic user, she's more than competent with a sword. Of every party member, she's definitely my favorite.
As a whole, the party plays off of each others strengths and weaknesses. If the mood of the game starts to take on too dark a tone, you can expect Balthier to lighten the air with one of his typical Han Solo-esque comments. Should you come across an ancient ruin or relic, leave it to Fran to give you its history. Need a mentor figure to give you support when you're facing insurmountable odds? Basch is your man. Suffice it to say, I like the cast.
What else? Well, I love the art direction. The world of Ivalice is absolutely gorgeous, at times even breathtaking. If you don't believe me then I suggest you take a look at (spoilers!) Feywood. Everything about this area shows off the brilliance of Final Fantasy XII's art direction, from the fading ghosts of dead soldiers that loom ever before you, to the strange creatures that inhabit a wood eternally shrouded in mist. It also highlights one of my favorite pieces of video game music, which brings me to another point that many gamers seemed to lament. The lack of Nobuo Uematsu's music in the game.
Personally, I'm a huge fan of Hitoshi Sakimoto and Masaharu Iwata's previous work on Final Fantasy Tactics. I know almost no musical theory and I have no right to talk about the mechanics of the music used here, but I did enjoy it greatly. The inclusion of choirs, chimes, and other unexpected sounds in the soundtrack were what drove me to become so enchanted with the two composers in the first place. I understand mourning the loss of Uematsu, but two very talented gentlemen stood up to take this place, and did a fine job at it to boot.
As for the complaint that the game plays itself, well, I don't even want to refute that. Yes, through the use of the Gambit system, you can program the game to play itself. At the outset of your adventure, when you have very few abilities available to you, I can understand how it could feel boring or repetitive in its execution. As new abilities open up to you and the game requires more strategy for advancement, simply allowing the game to "play itself" is no longer an option. You must strategize, often pulling out party members mid battle to bring in new ones, utilizing their unique abilities to the fullest. I've found this system lends itself to exhilarating combat and quick thinking. It's a near perfect meld of action and turn based RPG formulas and I adore it.
Is there more to say? It wouldn't be right if I didn't at least mention the story. I've heard murmurs that the story wasn't memorable and that the villain, Lord Vayne, failed to connect with most everyone who played the game. To you people I say, what? Again, I'm not very far into the game and my perception of it could change entirely as I progress, but from what I've played, I see no flaw in the story of Final Fantasy XII. If anything, I find it to be a refreshing change of pace from what I had grown used to seeing from the series. Instead of a villain who somehow gains a great deal of power and threatens to destroy the world, you face an Empire. Instead of fighting to save the planet, you fight to save a fallen kingdom. Is it very original? No, not really. There are more parallels to Star Wars in this game than in any Final Fantasy I've played. Is it enjoyable? Perhaps not for everyone. I personally enjoy entering the role of Vaan, a young boy swept up in something far larger than him, playing the part of helpful accomplice instead of the sole savior of the planet.
I recommend this game to any fan of JRPG's or video games in general. It's a stunning game that can easily hold the Final Fantasy name without being crushed under its weight. To those who haven't played it before, know that it's a slow burn. It wasn't until three hours into the game that it started to pick up for me, and it's initial slow pacing is likely the reason I put it to rest on my shelf in the first place. If you have the patience to stick with it you will be rewarded in kind. To those who have played it in its entirety and still find it to be the weak link of the franchise, you're welcome to your opinion. In fact, I'd love to discuss this with you in the comments below.
Hiding from gaming nirvana in favor of experience
My case is a peculiar one. While many people enjoy a wide variety of genres, most everyone has at least one genre that they excel in. Whether it be resident Destructoider de BLOO's hold on the fighting game genre or the SHMUP master Topher Cantler's dream like runs through Ikaruga, excellence is not hard to find.
Why is it then that I find myself being passable at every game I play, in some cases even what you could call great, yet excellence is a goal that alludes me? What is it that I am lacking that prevents me from entering the God-tier of a particular genre?
I started gaming at an early age, the farthest back that I could remember holding a controller at age four. My first games were very arcade-esque. Sunset Riders, NBA Jam, Star Fox; games that were created to provide a very one dimensional experience and experiences that were determined entirely by skill. A year of my young life was spent trying to conquer these games, and though I never accomplished this, save for the one time I accidentally discovered the Konami code and unlocked unlimited lives from a Debug menu inSunset Riders, I was always able to get a fair way through each game without much trouble.
At age six I was gifted a PlayStation and Final Fantasy VII. A far cry from the simple side-scrolling shooters I'd become accustomed to, Final Fantasy VII forced me to read. If I hadn't had been so captivated by Cloud's enormous sword and mysteriously spiky hair, I might not have even bothered. After conquering the natural disability that came with my youth, I began to make progress in Final Fantasy VII. I still remember the morning I woke up to brave the blood stained halls of the Shinra tower, only to discover that there was an entire world left unexplored. It was definitely a mind blowing moment that will stay with me until the end of my days.
Still, even the mysterious allure of Final Fantasy VII wasn't enough to motivate me to excel. Though I was competent at the combat system and understood how to move about the world, I'd always get to the same point, the gigantic Demon's Gate within the Temple of the Ancients, and be defeated. Frustration would inevitably take hold and I would start my adventure anew. It wasn't until this March, nearly a decade after my quest first began, that I completed Final Fantasy VII.
Even at a young age, a trend was developing. While I was capable of playing the games I owned, completing them in their entirety was another ballpark entirely. And the idea of mastering them? Not in a million years. It wasn't until this month's topic was first proposed that my general mediocrity dawned upon me. I had never really put much thought into my ability to play videogames -- I had always just played them. My first thought was, where do I go from here? Do I continue to play videogames, knowing that I will always be just a step away from completely owning them? Do I try to combat my own ineptitude with sheer force of will, hoping to master a particular game so that I may have my own personal magnum opus?
These thoughts broke way to an entirely different issue. Why was I playing videogames in the first place? Obviously I derived some enjoyment out of them otherwise I wouldn't have held it as my primary hobby for so many years, but was that all there was to it? Perhaps I play videogames with the sole intention of escaping reality, providing myself with alternate worlds to inhabit; an escape from the boredom of everyday life and the horrors that come with it. Perhaps I play only to provide myself with accomplishments, so that I could look upon my completed games as small steps up the ladder of life. Many, many showers were spent brooding over my apparent obsession with virtual entertainment, and while the examples I listed ring true to an extent, I believe I've discovered the true reason I've chosen to pursue videogames.
I play videogames for the experiences, and to a lesser extent, I play videogames because they are fun. Hold on! Before you start pointing your sweaty, quivering fingers at me, demanding that I acknowledge that games are not the serious business that I make them out to be, and that while Gears of War 2 isn't a rich emotional experience, it's still a damn good time to blow a mans head off with a shotgun, I want you to know that I understand and support this. I don't need every videogame I play to provoke intense sessions of mental masturbation just as much as I don't need every videogame I play to give me a hands free orgasm from an overdose on "fun". It isn't that I'm mediocre at the games I choose to play, it's that my reasoning for playing them prevents me from mastering them in the first place.
When I insert any videogame into my console of choice, I do so with the intention of experiencing something that I cannot experience anywhere else. Second on my mind is that I will hopefully have an enjoyable time with that experience, though in the case of some games I've played, the experience itself is enough to conquer a lack of entertainment. A prime example being Killer 7. Prior to this revelation, mastering a game never once crossed my mind. If a game required me to achieve a certain level of skill to experience it, I would do so without thought or question. If the bar for skill was set lower, my skill at the game would stay low with it. It isn't that I'm mediocre by nature -- it's that I'm mediocre by choice.
So yes, it would appear I suck at games, but only those that let me. My suckage is by allowance only, and if pushed to, I could master any game that I wish. It is with this knowledge that I will continue to pursue my hobby, and given my apparent love for experiences, perhaps I will take it upon myself to master a game so that I can experience the sense of completion. That feeling of total gaming nirvana that, until now, I'd never seen fit to pursue.
