chrono cross represents square at their best to me: sloppy, scatterbrained execution leading to overly passionate, expositional tantrums of art pieces slapped together to make a functional and generally enjoyable gaming experience vastly overshadowed by the fact that the writing and artistic profoundness overwhelms and oh-so-moves me.

chrono cross wouldn't be chrono cross if it were perfect. it wouldn't be chrono cross if i couldn't ruin a man's life by horribly disfiguring him and then never addressing him for the remainder of my time with the game after he resolves to join my party. it wouldn't be chrono cross if a half-pint mecha-toting alien with a speech impediment didn't waddle around and balance himself on his fish-bowl helmet during crucial dialogue. it wouldn't be chrono cross if bosses didn't end up pulling megaten-like preparational requirements out of nowhere and forcing my hand in tight scenarios i was woefully underprepared for. it wouldn't be chrono cross if i didn't reach for the tissues every. damn. instance. "the girl who stole the stars" sweeps the scene. and it wouldn't be chrono cross if it didn't comment on its roots with such daringness, such audacity, and such passion that it isolated and infuriated people.

i'm glad this game gets a reaction out of people. i'm glad there are people who can't see the heart in this game. true, ballsy art doesn't exist without burning a few bridges or ruffling some feathers. this game is fucking beautiful - far from perfect but objectively cleanliness is vastly overrated anyways. a timeless, boundless journey and a worthy entry in square's gold-standard late-90s catalogue.