within a span of two months, from september to november of 2019, i lost an old friend and former lover to bone cancer at 23 years old, and my father revealed to me that he’d been diagnosed with stage 2 lung cancer. this would indicate a nearly three year journey to where i am now - a sequence of events which tested the limits of my perseverance, willpower, camaraderie, self-love, and actualization of community. my life underwent severe changes throughout this period; essentially revising my entire outlook on my relationships to patching up and mending my relationship with my dad which had resulted in some pretty catastrophic gaps gashed out pretty equally on both sides. some outside events completely reformed how i lived, the safety and love i had to provide myself for my own wellbeing, and fostering a lot of growth and evolution out of a patch where what i’d known and what i held onto were slipping through my fingers.

during this time, my father set an example of how he would choose to live. he combatted cancer and heartbreak with rudiment, structure, dedication and iron will. i watched him break on more than a few occasions. but it was through his search for that light where he found his own branch of buddhism, practice of meditation, and a new outlook on his life. he began to teach me the lessons he’d taken away - both of us being that type of person with loud, constantly-spewing minds. he instilled and internalized the idea that meditation and serenity are not about clearing the mind of thought, but finding a means to acknowledge the thought and move on from it. it was only along the lines of that practice that we both began to unbox our trauma - both conjoined and individual. it was only then when we could cultivate growth, hope, and those first rays of light.

i had no access to therapy or professional help at the time. i was between jobs when i wasn't crammed into ones that abused and berated me and my time. my greatest resources for self-love, as they are now, were my loved ones and my then-cracked-yet-unbroken devotion to art. traumatic attachments kept me apart from those things i loved most, but in the process of recovering from a sequence in time in which i felt like i’d lost myself, figured it took recessing back to those works which had so clearly defined attics of my life to that point to regain shards of who i’d been, and define who i would choose to be moving forward. over the next year, i would play final fantasy vii six times to completion, twice with friends, four times on my own. the hanging threads of grief, trauma, self-actualization v. dissociation, lack of direction - these things culminated in a story which more and more i felt whispered answers directly to me, for my consumption alone. it’s in those moments where a bond is made between art and audience where the attachment becomes not just inseparable, but near essential.

final fantasy vii doesn’t hand you answers for the questions you come to it with. there isn’t a resolution to the trauma, there isn’t a solution to the pain or the grief. it is an embrace, and a hold of the hand, and a gentle call; “here is how you live with yourself. here is how you learn to be alive again.” the sociopolitical conflicts, the internal struggles, the budding seeds of affection and fraternity don’t reach a natural apex - they hum in anticipation of a deciding factor which never comes. perpetually trapped within the question, but offering you the means to provide your own answer in life. the final shot of the game isn’t a conclusion meant to be expanded upon. it’s simply a closing of the cover, the final page turned before the index of note paper before being passed to you with the command - “apply yourself. turn this into something that matters.” so i chose to.

and i found myself in midgar again, with new friends and a new outlook.

you come back to the slums of wall market and sector 7 with a new worldview and appreciation each time. there’s a different purpose, when your relationship with this game is as intimate as mine, for coming back here. i know the smog, the street life, the feeling of inescapable, walled-in urban destitution well. you grow up in any city poor enough and you get to know midgar intimately. it’s a familiar setting with a familiar social agency. the seventh heaven crew, they’re all faces i’ve known, fires in bellies i once shared, and now understand in a different light. they’re old friends i knew in my activism years as a teenager, they’re people i looked up to and lost through the years. i’ve lost a lot of people and a lot of faith over time. it might seem like a quick moment to many but the sector 7 tower fight reminds me of people and things that exist only in memories now.

the moment the world opens up and the main theme plays, while unscripted, is one of the most powerful in the game to me. i retain that this title track might be my favorite piece of video game music and such a perfect encapsulation of the game’s philosophy and emotional core. stinging synth strings meet acoustic woodwind and orchestral drones. playful countermelodies give way to massive, bombastic chords in a rocking interplay that rarely fails to inspire, intrigue and invoke. uematsu-sensei, unquestionably at the apex of his mastery here, provides his most timeless score. i think about, am inspired by, and draw from his work here intensely. the artistry pours out from every nook of final fantasy vii - the models, the cutscenes, the background renders, the gameplay systems, the story, the use of diegetic sound, the pacing, the designs - everything came together in a way that somehow evokes equal feelings of nostalgia, futurism, dread, fear, warmth, love, hope, and utter timelessness. streaming and voice-acting this entire game with my close friends was one of the best experiences of my year. hitting each turn with a decently blind audience provided both knowing and loving perspective and the unmitigated rush of first experience - in tandem, a passing of the torch, an unspeakable gift of an unbroken chain shared between loved ones. if final fantasy vii saved my life once before, this was the run which restored its meaning and direction.

i’ve been cloud, i’ve been tifa, i’ve been barret, i’ve been nanaki. i’ve been zack, i’ve been aerith. there are lives lived in the confines of final fantasy vii which i hold as pieces of my own, countless repetitions of those stories with those resolutions my own to meet, different each time. there was something magic about the ability to, a year after that painful strike of all of that anguish, that death, that loss, that fear, sit on the end screen as the series’ endless “prelude” played amongst 32-bit starfields and openly sob for a half hour surrounded by the voices and words of my loved ones. that was the day i learned to live again. it’s more than a game when you know it this intimately. it’s more than an experience when you share these scars. it’s more than art when you hold onto so dearly. there isn’t a classifier for what final fantasy vii means to me other than, “a lot”. sometimes, less is more. i don’t have a conclusion beyond that for you. the experience recalls everyone and everything i've ever loved and lost, and all that i've come to gain and hold dear. goodbye to some, hello to all the rest. true, reading this, it may have been a waste of your time, but i’m glad i was able to share this with someone. i hope this reaches at least one of you on a level you needed today, or maybe it invokes something in you about something you love so dearly. i’m here to tell you - this is how i learned to live again. if you need someone to tell you, today, that you can too, here it is. you aren’t alone. go find those answers for yourself.

please don't step on the flowers on your way.

An ambitious sci-fi epic, through and through.

Final Fantasy VII in the cultural zeitgeist of 2024 is a very different beast compared to Final Fantasy VII, released for the PlayStation in 1997. My circumstances revolving my first playthrough definitely contribute to my lukewarm enjoyment, but I don't see that as a bad thing. I played Remake part 1 first, and I found that game to be an interesting yet underwhelming beast filled to the brim with Triple A-isms and newcomer-unfriendly fanservice.

I've also come to learn which elements I like and don't like in my JRPGs. I adore Final Fantasy X, and its on-rails, personal, and deeply political story. I wasn't as in love with the open-ended, minigame-filled format of Final Fantasy X-2.

Back to FFVII; it's clearly making a pivotal transition between the Dungeons & Dragons inspired JRPGs of the past, and the cinematic and linear film-inspired JRPGs of the future. This crossroads feels awkward at times, but also a little endearing. The story is motivated by player exploration - after you finish business in one town, you have to explore your way to the next one in the overworld. The party characters all have distinct, pre-written personalities, yet you can still name them anything you want. It's a true blend between tabletop and film, and I wish it veered a bit more towards the latter.

It reminds me of the days when I booted up the original Dragon Quest on my first iPhone. You leave the first town, and the rest of the story is yours to create. Except FFVII has its own story already. Character dynamics already exist. What more are you supposed to leave to the imagination? Nowadays, our RPGs are much more aware of the lane they fall into. You have your "everyone is bisexual, go have fun" Baldur's Gate-type tabletop games, and your more linear and tailored story experiences.

I unfortunately was not attached at all to the battle system, but I think this may be a product of my experiences playing FF7Remake first, along with the fact that the Switch release gave cheats. I like the materia system, but couldn't be helped to grind every single party member's skills and limit breaks, which was even more cumbersome than switching party members in FFX.

The party members were lovely, but I can't help but think their depth was stretched thin. None of them are irrelevant, far from it, but the sheer number of them especially Yuffie and Vincent could feel overwhelming and underdeveloped. FFVII tries to (and mostly successfully!) balance the serious with the silly, the sci-fi with the fantasy, and the psychological with the sentimental. It's truly the game of all time, and I'm not surprised it was the candidate to receive so many spinoffs.

With all that said, the crime of being too ambitious is hardly a crime at all in my books. What we're left with is a narrative that's not afraid to make direct critiques of capitalism, combined with some of the best writing a JRPG protagonist has ever been graced with.

Final Fantasy 7 deserves the impact it created. It's a delicate balancing act bridging past and future...and the future is bright.

I want to make it known that I think FFX-2 is mid in spite of the gaudy pop music and lighthearted tone. I'm not one of those joyless misogynistic freaks who hates the tone change of the sequel. I actually like it a lot and I think it fits well in a world rediscovering its identity post-theocratic fiasco.

FFX-2's biggest flaws are in its nonlinearity and heavy padding with shitty minigames and side objectives. I desperately wanted to like this game more than I did; diving into Yuna's character growth transforming a selfless martyr into someone who's finally trying to live for herself (and notably stumbling along the way, as anyone would) is FFX-2's greatest strength. Solving her identity crisis is baked into the game's systems - with dresspheres, the greater political conflict between New Yevon and the Youth League, and party members Rikku and Paine.

I unfortunately could not tolerate sitting through the awful open-ended chapter structure (as opposed to FFX's hallway storytelling which I much prefer) and poor side objectives. Rikku and Paine also don't get nearly as much character spotlight as they deserve - with Rikku basically unchanged since FFX and Paine being no deeper than her relevance to the much less interesting larger plot. I think the dressphere system in battle is nice but not nice enough to make me jump through hoops in order to get all of the cool hidden classes. Even with its much shorter runtime than FFX, X-2 finds ways to pad itself drastically.

The soundtrack is also way worse.

Maybe I'll come back someday, but I think I'm better off just watching the important cutscenes on YouTube.

When the first Octopath game came out in 2018, it rocked my world. Even when the reception of the game online seemed very mixed, I couldn't help falling in love with the stellar orchestrated soundtrack composed by Yasunori Nishiki and the refined job and battle system that seemed to blow classic JRPG battle mechanics out of the water. The soundtrack in particular was a formative set of compositions that I showed to all of my friends, and to this day we perform arrangements of the pieces in our string ensembles. Even back then I acknowledged the game's narrative shortcomings, but I craved the game's lore and worldbuilding nonetheless. The endgame, while poorly explained and hidden behind minor sidequests, provided infodumps that captivated me. I itched to learn more about Orsterra's gods and minor bosses, optimized battle equipment sets and secondary classes, and the OST, including the wonderful Break and Boost Arrangements, was on repeat in my Spotify playlists. My love for this game is linked to my identity as a musician, and I can tell there's love and passion oozing out of every bit of this game's dynamic musical design. As I'm typing this, I'm sitting across from my shelf of vinyl records containing the Octopath Traveler Recorded Journey record alongside my various pop and rock records. Honestly, even if every other part of the octopath games were shit, I would still eat them up if they have soundtracks this good.

I'm thrilled to see the internet treat Octopath 2 more kindly than its predecessor, even if it makes me scratch my head a little. In my opinion, Octopath 2 is a marginal improvement on nearly every mechanic introduced in the original. Key word: marginal. Because I loved nearly every bit of the first game, I happened to love the second game a little more in every way. But it confuses me nonetheless when I see countless posts talking about how this game was such a big step up from the first.

Combat mechanics of the break and boost system are the same at their core - there are no new weapons or elements. OT2 added latent powers, overhauled concoct and beast lore, added use cases for summoned NPCs, added EX skills, added warrior skills, and did some overall balancing with the moveset of pre-existing jobs. We got just as many hidden jobs as before, but all of them feel like nerfed versions of the hidden jobs in OT1 except for inventor. This sounds like a lot, and all of these changes (except for removing warmaster smh) do improve combat. But not by much. The bread-and-butter setups are still there, you just need to tinker your level of micromanagement.

Individual characters' stories were always hit or miss, and that hasn't changed here. Hikari is just as much of a piece of cardboard as Olberic was, and Agnea's connection to the main story is just as irrelevant as Tressa's. Osvald's story starts strong but fizzles out with a laughably cliché villain, Castti's amnesia trope is also painfully cliché, and Ochette's story is bogged down by her one-note writing. I think the real standout story for me in OT2 is Throné's. It starts out as a combination of Primrose and Therion's stories from OT1 (they were my favorites from the first game) but unlike other stories in the series, after the predictable villain is defeated, the plot takes a huge left turn into unforeseen territory. The themes her story set up led perfectly into the dark twist, and I always love seeing this kind of stuff in JRPGs. Character dialogue and writing suffers just as much as it did in OT1, with the added benefit of not having to listen to H'aanit's fake old english accent. Each line of dialogue sounds like it was recorded on a separate studio day, and the writing of the dialogue is way too formal. These cracks show even more in OT2 given its more modern post-industrial setting. I have a feeling a big reason why the dialogue feels so unnatural is because each line is a separate recording in a separate speech bubble, which is required so the player can press the A button to advance dialogue at their will. It's customary of classic SNES-era JRPGs, but those games didn't have voice acting, so it wasn't a problem.

Crossed Path stories were an attempt to fix the most common point of criticism, which was that characters didn't interact outside of flavor text, but these chapters have very little substance or meaning until the buildup to the final boss. Temenos and Throné did feel like an awesome dynamic duo, though, so it was still fun to see their expanded banter. They're a welcome addition but I won't pretend like they fixed the problem.

While the Octopath games clearly draw heavy inspiration from 16-bit classic JRPGs, my wish is for the series to let go of a lot of those standards in order to grow. I want more seamless dialogue and deeper character writing, full uninterrupted cutscenes, more pretty camera angles (I still like the HD-2D visual style though), more jobs a la Bravely Default, less predictable story chapters, more party interactions...just more everything!

Complaints aside, the fact that OT1 even got a sequel is thrilling. While I don't think OT2's improvements are nearly as significant other people say, it won't stop me from coming back to New Delsta to hear that sweet marimba melody.

pleasedroptheOSTonspotifypleasemakeanewbreak&boostarrangementsalbumpleeeeeaaaaaseeeee

It feels so gratifying to play a game that wears its inspirations on its sleeve yet feels so confident with its own ideas and execution.

Pizza Tower offers some of the most mechanically dense platforming in its genre. Every level and move you can pull off is so perfectly calculated to encourage the act of speed. What's that? You're bumping into too many walls that make your speed come to a screeching halt? Well just run up them, doofus. You'd think the high you get from going at such blistering speeds would wear off eventually, but each level offers something so different and unique that they become endlessly exhilarating to master.

Combos feel so satisfying and invigorating to chain together with the barrage of moves you can pull off, combat quickly becoming a mad dash towards the next enemy to pulverize or the next batch of ingredients to grab. Bosses contrast the main gameplay by requiring the player to be calm and methodical in their methods to successfully dodge the attacks, yet bosses remain fast paced and never let up on their assaults.

Pizza Tower is practically everything I look for in a 2D platformer: extremely speedy platforming, borderline insane animation, engaging yet challenging bosses, and a well fleshed out moveset. However, that is not even mentioning how Pizza Tower practically begs the player to be replayed. With how every level feels so fun to blast through, having to do so while chaining a massive combo throughout the level, finding all the secrets and collectibles, and doing two consecutive laps on the big rush from the end of the level to the beginning asks the player to use all of their acquired skills. It's brutally challenging, yet unendingly rewarding to finally pull off the golden run.

If Pizza Tower taught me anything, it's that we need more games where you play as a fat greasy Italian man.

I think I want to give VRChat my first and only five-star rating largely out of principle. I've only spent roughly 20 hours ingame so far, and half of that time was spent pirating an entire HBO series in a media world.

I'm an anthropology student who just downloaded the game in 2022 but I am utterly fascinated with the social interactions that occur here.

Freshman year of college I did a small ethnographic project on social interations within Town of Salem's game chat, and I really regret that I hadn't studied VRChat instead. There was one world I went to where you spawn on a train that moves forever, and there were two people sitting on top who were edating. I could basically hear their whole conversation. They must have been aware, but they didn't seem to mind. My friends and I also explored a virtual art museum, while our artist friend gave an explanation of the famous pieces.

There are so many interesting layers to peel back when it comes to people watching. And if you don't want to do that, you can always just pirate an entire TV series, because it's way too easy to do that.

VRChat isn't my favorite game, not by a longshot. I don't even own a VR headset, I play this game in desktop mode. But I've never explored a virtual space with more childlike wonder than when I wander the nooks and crannies of this game's many worlds. Meta and Mark Zuckerberg could never accomplish creating a space like this. While VRChat worlds contain a couple semi-ironic and easy to ignore advertisment posters, and creator bulletins thanking loyal patrons, Meta is creating a sterile, work-friendly environment backed with tv ads promoting virtual Jon Batiste tshirts and NFTs. VRChat isn't necessarily a videogame, but its association with Steam, Oculus, and gaming as a whole works as a natural gatekeeper from corporate takeover. Of course, this skews the playerbase in an unfavorable direction (creepy gamers can flood certain spaces) but the silver lining remains: VRChat is a virtual space largely untainted by the real world. As a result, exploring the game is captivating.

TL;DR: I pirated all of HBO's The White Lotus within a week on VRChat. If anything, get it to do that.

Gonna abstain from giving this a star rating. This might be a tough thing to swallow, but Pokemon Scarlet and Violet do not deserve your praise, even if you think they do.

If you had fun with these games, unironically, please keep that shit to yourself. I'm not saying these are the worst games ever made. I can certainly understand why people are enjoying them in spite of the massive flaws. It's pokemon, the gameplay loop is the same, and the music rocks. Of course you're enjoying it.

What I think a lot of people don't understand is that there are people behind these games, behind TPC and Game Freak, and all around the games industry who are affected by this franchise. Game Freak has been experiencing massive crunch for a long time, starting with them being dragged into 3D game development, kicking and screaming. Recent years have created even more crunch. Interviews with developers during the release window of Sword and Shield said that Game Freak was working on a HD backlog of high quality pokemon models and animations, and that turned out to be a flat out lie. Legends Arceus, despite all the praise it got for switching the formula up, is still fucking disgusting to look at, and it has clunky controls and mechanics. BDSP were outsourced entirely and were awful excuses for video games. Given all of this, I am still reluctant to blame the developers at Game Freak. Pokemon is a multimedia francise with strict deadlines that also must align with merchandising, anime, and trading cards. The Pokemon franchise has been overcome by corporate greed, period. Endorsing Scarlet and Violet given their quality level, even if you still personally enjoyed the games, sends a horrifying message to the games industry, TPC, and Game Freak that flat out says, "I am okay with developer crunch and half baked products! If you sell me this, I will buy it!"

Discourse with this series has also always been bad, with genwunners dominating conversations, and players prioritizing pokemon walking around behind the player as opposed to pokemon games telling competent stories with interesting bosses (looking at you, johto apologists), just to name an example. Dexit took the already garbage-level pokemon discourse and plunged it deeper underground. Players chose to complain about the lack of Tropius and Purugly in Sword and Shield's pokedex, instead of focusing on the rushed story, poor quality animations, empty towns, lack of voice acting, the list goes on...

So many gamers care more about their instant gratification instead of the lives of real human beings, and I think this issue extends far beyond pokemon. If you go to Activision Blizzard CEO Bobby Kotick's Twitter replies, a vast majority of his hate comments don't even pertain to his horrifying harrasment scandals or massive corporate greed. It's Call of Duty fans begging him to fix their game. This is a deep rooted social problem with gamers in the midst of consumer culture, and pokemon fans aren't exempt.

To reiterate, if you enjoyed Pokemon Scarlet and Violet, keep that shit to yourself. The lives of developers are more important than your instant gratification. I swear to god, if I see one more post on r/pokemon titled “unpopular opinion…but I actually love scarlet and violet” with tens of thousands of upvotes, i'm gonna lose it.

If you still want to try this game out, buy it secondhand.

being a xenoblade fan is the jrpg equivalent of cult indoctrination, which is saying a lot because being a jrpg fan is like joining a cult in and of itself, so really it's like separating into an extremist faction of a larger cult that simultaneously infights at every given opportunity while taunting non-members for not finding Dunban "being over there" ticklingly hysterical even after the 167th time it's referenced in deeply brainrotted twitter circles.

I am allowed to say this and mean it endearingly because I am myself an unfathomably deranged xenoblade fan far beyond the brink of salvation. this game has irreparably changed me. I have been ruined. my brain is broken. I'm not sure it ever worked right, but my xenoblade fandom experience has ensured that it will always work wrong. otherwise innocuous terms such as "44 seconds" or "bestest" have pavloved me into laughing forever. when I see shulk take a bite of a sandwich and that bite does not animate on said sandwich, I emphatically applaud. the mere sight of Juju, a child whose only crime is loving his people, makes me black out with vitriolic rage. anytime I slice a hot knife through butter, I cry. anytime I walk on ice, I scream. when I check the time, all I see is Reyn's face on the clock - it is always Reyn time in my world now.

the other day around Reyn time (lunch) I was slicing open a bagel with a freshly sharpened serrated knife in order to make myself a toasted chicken salad sandwich. delicious. yum. bestest. unfortunately, the bagel slipped out from underneath my hand and I ended up slicing my own thumb instead. despite the alarmingly large amount of blood and even more abundant visceral pain, I luckily did not end up needing stitches. was I relieved? no. grateful? no. all that could cross my mind in that moment was that "your blade... it did not cut deep enough."

I mained Shulk competitively in super smash bros. for wii u because of my love and loyalty for this damned game. for those of you unfamiliar with Smash 4 - Shulk is booty buttcheeks doodoo dogass tier in Smash 4. he is fundamentally fucked. hopelessly hoed. maining Smash 4 Shulk is like marathon training for months only to tie a boulder to your ankle at the starting line, or maining Sharla in xenoblade 1. for four whole memorable-but-not-wonderful years I would mosey to local tournaments having extensively practiced my Arts Landing Lag Cancels and Monado B-Reversals and Purge 50-50s and Airslash Ledge Snaps (in AND out of Jump Art!) only to get utterly dicked and shitted and pissed and vomited on by some iron-deficient 14-year-old Kirby player who sucked the monado into his disgusting mouth hole and used Jump and Speed arts to Run The Fuck Away for 6 minutes. all that suffering to appease the cultish urge to remain steadfast in my xenoblade chronicles brainrot. peak fiction. I hate myself. I live for this game, and therefore want to die.

I am a shattered man. I come to you as a cautionary tale. I love xenoblade 1. it is a good game. some might call it a great one. I could even wager that it's a classic. but it is not worth a total fundamental collapse of the self. this game has significant faults that time has further illuminated. sidequests are trash. the game's third act is a disaster. characters have chemistry but very few have arcs. women don't exist in this game. why doesn't unfinished battle loop in that one fight. juju. I have heard it all. it is no longer cool or trendy or tasteful to praise xenoblade 1 as the jrpg bastion it once was.

I do not care. It is far too late for me to view this game objectively, yet I find I am more grateful to have loved a game to an extreme degree beyond objectivity even if it has cost me an entire lifetime of mental fortitude. I wish Dunban was my real dad and was "over there" instead of "forgetting me because of dementia." Riki eats your favorite jrpg mascot character for breakfast and still has time to canonically fuck his probably-smokin-hot-by-nopon-standards wife before lunch. expert worldbuilding dares to ask "what if we were all on A Guy and we climbed up his ass" and thats raw as fuck. expert OST dares to ask "what would it feel like if ears could cum" and then made my ears uncontrollably bust jumbo nut wads for over a decade running. I am one of the deranged freaks who mained Melia and therefore thinks the combat is Pretty Sick Actually. stop maining Shulk, losers. stop cradling that milquetoast monado like a security blanket and get in Melia's pain train, we're starlight kicking god in his Klaussy.

I don't care if this game is "overrated," or if i'm "scaring the hoes." I don't care if xenoblade 1 is "too anime" or "predictable" or "nonsensical" or "boring" or "not a replacement for proper nourishment." I love this game. I eat it up. I consume it in its totality - characters, world, combat, music, fandom, memes, merch, a decade of irreparably damaged culture and identity. like Shulk, it changed my future. Xenoblade Chronicles ruined my life, and I am forever thankful.