The first SaGa game, one of my first JRPGs, and for my money, a total masterpiece.
Mechanically simple compared to where the series would go, this is still a genuine odd-ball to play, leveling an skills and equipment all twisted to be recognizable but not quite right; the first hour or two a head-scratching puzzle of "why is this happening? what is that? why can't I beat this?". I think this, in itself, is one of the beautiful things about this game. The journey to figuring it all out, coming to grips with out there systems, is a pleasure (and also the most difficult thing about the game) and once you do understand, you are encouraged to rip the game apart and bend those once confusing systems to your will. It's simple and quick and feels great.
Of course, while half of SaGa's joy comes from its mechanical uniqueness, the other half is thanks to Kawazu's elegant, simple writing. The first game in the series here has one of my favorite game worlds there is--multiple universes imagined as different floors in a giant tower--one responsible for several of the greatest moments I think exist in the genre (finding the first gun, arriving at the second world, the ending). But it isn't just grand moments and evocative ideas; miniature stories populate the game told in only a few sentences each, each one providing just enough for the imagination to run wild. It is a game that produces daydreams.
Bonus note about that ending: how awesome and wild is it that this little gameboy RPG from 89 goes so gleefully meta. It's smart, it's funny, it's sooo ahead of time, and it opens the simple storytelling of the game up in fascinating ways without weighing things down an inch.
SaGa 2 might outclass its predecessor in basically every respect (the jump in presentation and scope made in only a year is mind-boggling), but the simple, weirdo pleasures of this, the start of one of JRPG's greatest series, might reign supreme for me.
Mechanically simple compared to where the series would go, this is still a genuine odd-ball to play, leveling an skills and equipment all twisted to be recognizable but not quite right; the first hour or two a head-scratching puzzle of "why is this happening? what is that? why can't I beat this?". I think this, in itself, is one of the beautiful things about this game. The journey to figuring it all out, coming to grips with out there systems, is a pleasure (and also the most difficult thing about the game) and once you do understand, you are encouraged to rip the game apart and bend those once confusing systems to your will. It's simple and quick and feels great.
Of course, while half of SaGa's joy comes from its mechanical uniqueness, the other half is thanks to Kawazu's elegant, simple writing. The first game in the series here has one of my favorite game worlds there is--multiple universes imagined as different floors in a giant tower--one responsible for several of the greatest moments I think exist in the genre (finding the first gun, arriving at the second world, the ending). But it isn't just grand moments and evocative ideas; miniature stories populate the game told in only a few sentences each, each one providing just enough for the imagination to run wild. It is a game that produces daydreams.
Bonus note about that ending: how awesome and wild is it that this little gameboy RPG from 89 goes so gleefully meta. It's smart, it's funny, it's sooo ahead of time, and it opens the simple storytelling of the game up in fascinating ways without weighing things down an inch.
SaGa 2 might outclass its predecessor in basically every respect (the jump in presentation and scope made in only a year is mind-boggling), but the simple, weirdo pleasures of this, the start of one of JRPG's greatest series, might reign supreme for me.