I have somewhat mixed feelings on games designed by Simone Luciani. I disliked Tzolk’in for quite a while before coming around to the side of appreciating its complexities. I find The Voyages of Marco Polo, and it’s sequel to be quite satisfying, but I fail to see the enjoyment in Grand Austria Hotel and Rats of Wistar. Nucleum was cool, and while I enjoy Lorenzo Il Magnifico, I’m also not going to be the first one to sing its praises (that’s Tim from Board Game Hot Takes‘ job). What ties all these games together is the fact they’re all medium to heavy Euro games with an emphasis on resource management. So when I heard he was involved with a lighter set collection game, I was intrigued. I’m always interested when designers step out of their comfort zone!
Mesos is a card-driven strategy game set during the Mesolithic era, where players take on the roles of early tribal leaders guiding their people through the transition from nomadic hunting to settled life. Mesos focuses on drafting cards from a shared market linked to turn order: taking more cards generally means acting later in the next round, creating a tradeoff between short-term benefits and long-term positioning.
Players build their tribes by acquiring character and building cards, some providing immediate effects (like food collection or discounts on buildings) or long-term benefits (such as a set collection engine that scores points at the end of game, or a discount when it’s time to feed your tribe). Central to the game are recurring event cards that test how well players have prepared their tribes over time, with increasing rewards and penalties.
The cards themselves are all fairly simple. Artists and Cultists are mostly for satisfying event cards, hunters let you gather more food the more you have. Gatherers provide perpetual food to feed your tribe, builders make the powerful building cards cheaper, and the engineers rack up points based on how many you have, and how many different symbols they display.
What really drives the tension in Mesos is the card market. New cards come into the top row, at a rate of the number players +4. At the end of a round, whatever cards are left over, flow to the bottom row. Players take turns moving their totem from the player order tile onto one of the card acquisition tiles. The further down the row they go, they more cards they’ll be able to take, and further still, the more opportunities they’ll have to pick from the new, upper row instead of the stale lower row. Once all players have placed their totem, from left to right players pick the cards they’re allotted, and go back onto the player order tiles.
The obvious comparison for Mesos is 7 Wonders if you replaced the draft with the turn order mechanic from Kingdomino. There is more to it than that, but the feeling of 7 Wonders was on my heart and mind every time I played Mesos. Unlike 7 Wonders, there is much more than a single point of conflict. First, the way the cards flow into the system is wide open, everyone can see everything. If you’re gunning for a specific building, you can be sure that everyone else can see what you’re trying to do as well.
In Mesos, there are 4 events that come out every age. One punishes you for not having enough artists, another rewards the player with the most cultists. One sends your hunters to work to feed your tribe, while another triggers the feed-your-people mechanism. The rewards and punishments for each event increase in severity as the ages progress, encouraging lagging players to remain competitive.
The brilliance of Mesos lies in how these systems interlock. I saw Simone Luciani’s name on the box and immediately thought that it was going to be a much more complex game than it was. But was pleasantly surprised at just how simple and natural the game felt. Mesos rewards both tactical drafting just before events trigger and/or hate drafting and denying your opponents access to a suite of cards, and long-term planning for big end-game set collection points.
But don’t mistake “light” and “simple” for “mindless.” The turn order track decision offers such an intense trade-off, that every time you interact with it, it forces you to weigh your options. It’s incredibly tempting to go last to get 3 cards, but how will you feed them? What if the artist you need for the event is sniped before I choose? Maybe you should prioritize going earlier in the order just to get the single artist, and forgo the shaman altogether? Can you gamble that your opponent won’t grab that artist before you, and you can grab both the cards you wanted?
It’s an intense moment of weighing your options. And it can sound like a lot, but it really isn’t. These are small choices that create the context for the rest of the game. Each card essentially only has a single use, and everything is open and obvious to all players. It’s the market that creates the multiple choices and the tension of knowing what everyone else wants that makes this game so interesting.
I suffer pretty hard from loss aversion. And while points can always be paid in the place of food, I think a large part of the game is knowing when to forgo food collection and chose points in other ways. In one game, a player managed to earn over a hundred points from his engineer cards. He was on the bleeding edge of starving every round, but he handily won the whole game.
Mesos is much more interactive and heads-up than you’d expect a simple card drafter to be, it’s certainly more interesting than the ever popular 7 Wonders. The placement of your worker pawn to pick your drafting order and number of cards has a feeling of weighty consequence to it. All cards drafted are face up to everyone, so you’re always critically aware of where you stand in the race to grab certain cards. It hurts to make these decisions, the good kind of hurt that makes you rub your forehead while straining to think about what the other players are going to do.
Mesos proves that when a designer steps outside their established playbook, the results can be both surprising and exceptional. Stripping away the complexity of Luciani’s heavier games reveals just how sharp his instincts are when it comes to creating interlocking systems that generate tension, drama, and real decision-making. In Mesos, the open information, clever card flow, and agonizing turn-order tradeoffs make it a far more engaging game than it first appears. This isn’t just a lighter Luciani game, it’s a lean, tightly-wound experience that makes my brain hum.
It’s been a while since I did a book review. I started a new job in January, and that really took up all of my reading time. But one of my best friends recommended How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying by Django Wexler to me. HtBtDLaDT is basically Groundhog Day meets Deadpool with a dash of Guardians of the Galaxy. It’s a darkly humourous fantasy romp about what happens when the hero decides she’s done playing nice.
Davi was summoned to another world to save it from the Dark Lord. Noble enough. Except she’s failed. Hundreds of times. Every death sends her right back to the beginning, waking up in the same pool or water, in the same damn forest, being exposited to by the same old man, doomed to repeat the same futile quest. After 277 tries and over a thousand cumulative years of dying in increasingly ridiculous, tragic, and stupid ways… she snaps.
Screw destiny. Screw the prophecy. If the Dark Lord always wins, it’s time she joined the winning side.
Armed with centuries of knowledge, a fraying sense of morality, and an immature brand of gallows humour, Davi sets out to become the next Dark Lord. First step, she just needs a horde to take her to the convocation where the Dark Lord is crowned. How hard could that be?
HtBtDLaDT is told in Davi’s unhinged first-person voice, often careening between swaggering confidence and total panic. This is a tale of necromancy, time loops, save-scumming, and what happens when the ‘chosen one’ decides she’s had enough of being chosen.
Let’s get this out of the way up front: I’m annoyed. Not because the book is necessarily bad, but because it ends on such a blatant cliffhanger that it feels like half a story. I don’t mind a good sequel hook, but I like a book to stand on its own, at least a little. This was written with a blinking “To Be Continued…” sign hanging over every major plot thread.
My second major complaint came early, and it stuck with me the whole way through. The narrator, Davi, offhandedly says something like “I think I’m from Earth? Like, I know Darth Vader is Luke’s father, or something?” and then proceeds to pepper the rest of the story with modern pop culture references like she just stepped out of a Reddit comment thread. It immediately gave me Ready Player One flashbacks, but without the contextual justification. In RPO, the character was raised on a steady diet of retro media, so it made sense within the context. In How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying, it felt jarring and out of place. A relentless stream of quips, one-liners, and pop culture references that constantly yanked me out of the high fantasy setting the book was trying to build.
And speaking of the setting, it had so much potential. The early parts, with the time loop playing a major role, and Davi experimenting with different outcomes, it felt sharp and fun. I loved the save-scumming vibes and the mild panic that crept into her narration when a time fork turned sour. But then… it just sort of softened. The world turned cozy. Characters were chipper. Consequences were few and far between. Even the main consequence of dying and having to start again feels flat. She says there’s no guarantee that she could make it back to the same spot a second time, but I don’t believe her complaints of having to redo a few months when she’s already lived for a thousand years.
Davi herself is chaotic, in that annoying terminally online young millennialhow kind of way. Very Deadpool-esque or Harley Quinn. She’s unhinged, quippy, and a bit of a jerk, which can work, but I didn’t find her particularly believable as a rising Dark Lord. She doesn’t lead so much as stumble into leadership, and her “horde” follows her with an ease that felt unearned. None of her captains challenge her authority in a meaningful way, and given how little she inspires, intimidates, or even organizes them, I couldn’t really buy that she was holding this would-be evil empire together. She’s woefully sincere and caring for someone aspiring to Dark Lord-om.
That said, HtBtDLaDT isn’t without its charms. I really enjoyed the initial worldbuilding, especially how the magic system was explained and used. The ending, in particular, where Davi overcomes a giant worm beast using the nuances of that magic system. Getting swallowed whole and then blowing it up from the inside? Genuinely me laugh
So, will I read the second book? Begrudgingly, yes. I’ve got it on hold at the library, and it’s the kind of story that’s decent to listen to while I’m working. But How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying isn’t cracking my top ten books anytime soon. It had a solid premise, flashes of brilliance, and a narrator who was fun in theory, but in execution, it all felt a bit too thin, too try-hard, and too sincere to really stick the landing of the “Dark Lord” moniker.
When I started this Final Fantasy Project, my challenge to play through every single player mainline entry in the series, it was mostly just an excuse to replay Final Fantasy IV again, if I’m being honest. That game was my first true JRPG, played on my SNES in the mid-90s, and it became my gold standard for the entire series. The bar to which I’ve held every Final Fantasy entry against. I’ve long claimed it’s my favourite Final Fantasy, but, truth be told, I hadn’t actually finished many of them. So this project is equal parts nostalgia trip and a chance to give the whole series a fair shot.
Nostalgia can be a fickle mistress sometimes, but in this section of my play through, it worked to each game’s advantage. I am a shameless fanboy of the Super Nintendo Entertainment System. Some of my earliest memories are of me holding that grey and purple controller while sitting cross-legged on my living room floor, the CRT screen glowing in the dim morning light. I’m sure it’s this experience during my formative years that has given me such a love for pixel art graphics over high-res or 3D games, even to this day.
The SNES Final Fantasy games are amazing. Each one is special in its own way, and each one is such an impressive step up from the games that came before it. It’s at this point in the series where you can see those who were working at Square in 1987 have been improving their skills at crafting amazing games. It’s during this 3 game era on the SNES that I think Final Fantasy really distills and cements what makes a Final Fantasy game, a Final Fantasy game.
Going from the relative mechanical freedom of the NES Final Fantasy games, Final Fantasy IV is a stark shift for the series. Starting with an opening cutscene showing the main character, the Dark Knight Cecil, slaying innocent people to acquire the water crystal as ordered by his king, is quite the tonal change from the simple 4 warriors of light narrative that was featured in games I and III. It also took away a lot of mechanical freedom that was present in the past games, railroading your party to specific members for specific parts of the game, and each character being a firm archetype with no customization options for the player to mess around with. That said, the ATB system introduced dynamism and fluidity to the combat, that would become a mainstay for the next 6 entries of the franchise. Its story was also laser focused on Cecil, and his redemption.
Final Fantasy V on the other hand, returned to the static cast, and blew open the character customization options wide open with the overhauled job system. The story had its heavy moments, but was generally light-hearted and genuinely funny. The goofy character sprites bounced around manically, conveying as much emotion as you can squeeze into a 16-bit pixel art game.
Final Fantasy VI strikes balance between IV and V, telling a grand tale with a wide cast, and offering a decent amount of freedom to the player. It comes with its own mechanical shortfalls and frustrations, as I covered in depth before, but it does an incredibly good job in telling a story with some heavy narrative beats.
I think ultimately, which game is your favourite will come down to which characters or stories resonate with you, specifically. Final Fantasy VI is often lauded as the very best game in the series, but mechanically, V was much more fun to play. Personally, I love the character driven twists in IV more, from Cecil shedding his dark knight moniker to become a paladin, to the narrative influencing the gameplay, like how Rydia doesn’t learn the Fire spell until she overcomes her fear of fire, due to her hometown burning down around her. I also appreciate how the gameplay challenges and rewards are tailored to what characters are in your party. I can’t tell you how frustrated I would get chasing down a chest at the end of a long dungeon, only to pull a weapon for a character or class that I wasn’t using, a feeling which was particularly exacerbated at the end of Final Fantasy V when 8 of the 12 ultimate weapons didn’t mesh with my party.
I loved all 3 of these games. It was an absolute treat to replay IV, and experience V and VI fully for the first time. While I played the GBA remakes for each of these entries, each game absolutely holds up today. That’s kind of the joy of pixel art now that I think about it, it really holds up. At the time of writing this, I’m about a dozen hours into Final Fantasy VII, and I have to say, the rudimentary 3D polygons have not aged well. I recognize that in 1997, the graphics were absolutely cutting edge and mind-blowing, but in 2025, it’s a bit of an eye-sore. But this isn’t the time to start talking about Final Fantasy VII.
The steps this set of games takes into the modern age of Final Fantasy aren’t perfect, but they show that the team take great care in telling a great, character driven story. This is the era where I learned that I loved JRPGs, that I could emotionally connect with digital characters, and it’s something that’s been a part of my identity for my entire life. The SNES Final Fantasy games may be 30 years old, but all 3 are still great games, even to this very day.
I generally don’t like bluffing games. They’re hard to start, as it usually requires everyone at the table to have such a firm grasp on the rules and potential outcomes, that I don’t think they’re worth overcoming that barrier to entry. Also, I just don’t like lying to people. Trying to keep a poker face, or convince someone else that I’m telling the truth or lying, just does not bring me joy. So let me tell you about Cockroach Poker.
Cockroach Poker is a deck of 64 cards. 8 different insects have 8 cards each. At the start of the game, the whole deck is dealt out to all players. Sometimes players won’t have the same number of cards in their hand, and that’s okay. Someone will argue that having an extra card gives that player a modicum more information, and therefore the games balance is totally thrown off, but I’m not that person.
In Cockroach Poker, the active player has to pick a card from their hand, put it face down on the table, and slide it to someone else. They make a declaration of which critter is on the other side, and the chosen player has to make a choice. They can either engage with the active player, can say that the active player is telling the truth, or lying about what card they presented. Once they’ve made their declaration, they reveal the card, and if the chosen player was correct, that card lives face up in front of the active player. If the chosen player was incorrect about the active players assertion, then the revealed card lives face up in front of the chosen player. The other thing the chosen player can do, is choose not to engage the active player, and instead look at the card. At this point, they become the active player, they then must put that card face down on the table, and slide it to someone else, and make an assertion about what critter is on that card. It can be the same assertion as the previous player, or it can be different.
Cockroach Poker ends when one player has 4 of the same critter face up in front of them. They are the closer of the game, and must buy the next round. At least, that’s what I tell my friends the consequence for losing is, no matter what context we’re playing this game in.
It can feel like players have no control over their fate in cockroach poker. When a card gets slid towards you, and your parter says “bat”. You either say true or false with no further information, and reveal your choice. Of course, there’s always the chance that there are already 5 bats on the table, and you happen to be holding 3 in your hand, in which case you can catch them in their bold faced lie, but that situation happens so rarely it’s almost not worth mentioning.
Players at the table can gang up on a specific player, sliding them every card, trying to dump all manner of critters onto their lap. It can feel unfair, and pointless. But Cockroach Poker excels at providing players genuinely exciting moments. The glee you have when you catch someone in a lie makes the whole table oooooh and ahhh. The tension builds like a pot of water coming to a boil. At first, nothing happens, but when two players have two of the same critter in their lap, and someone slides them a card that would give them a third, is it a gambit? If you look at it and slide it to the other unfortunate soul, someone is going to walk away with another face up card, potentially bringing them one step closer to utter ruin.
Or consider the audacity of someone with 3 face up spiders, and then sliding a card to someone, claiming it’s a spider. Did they just hand you the key to their own defeat? Would they be so bold? They’re usually so reserved and careful, it seems completely out of character for them to do something so daring. But maybe that’s what they want you to think. Clearly, you can’t choose the wine in front of you, and clearly you can’t choose the wine in front of them!
-ahem- Sorry. I slipped into Vizzini Mode for a second there.
Cockroach Poker excels at building tension, and when that tension snaps and someone is left holding the bag, it’s utter joy. Every game of Cockroach Poker I’ve played has ended with someone shouting with glee. It’s a raucous good time, a perfect pub game, and one that is especially good when you have a guilt-tripping aunty over for dinner. Highly recommend.
Cryo starts with a disaster. A mission gone wrong. A colony ship crash landing onto a desolate, frozen planet. The ship utterly broken with crew in cryostasis pods strewn about the mountainside. Players take on the role of separate, hostile factions, competing to accrue resources and shuttle their tribes stasis pods into the nearby caverns before the sun sets and everything left on the surface is lost to the unsurvivable cold.
The actions you take are via drones, flying off your personal player board and landing on the various docks around the planet, either gaining or consuming resources to gain other benefits, such as better resources, energy, cards, or resource chips that you can slot into your player board to create your own resource generation spots that get activated when you recall your drones.
At its heart, Cryo is about sending drones out to collect resources and recalling them to trigger bonuses and upgrades, gradually transforming your platform into a more efficient rescue operation. The game is medium weight in complexity, there are only 4 resources, and 4 main sections where you can place your workers. Half the actions on the board do the same thing, just in different locations, and the other half of the actions convert one of the 3 main resources into the other 2 special resources, or cards. The section off to the right is a bit special in what it can do, but even it all makes sense after just a minute of explanation. Despite the simplicity of the gameplay, the setup feels unnecessarily fiddly for a medium-weight euro: separating sunset tokens, organizing player-count-based stacks of resource chips, and sorting multiple tile types adds an early layer of tedium that contrasts with the otherwise smooth turns.
Unlike many other engine building point scoring eurogames, Cryo has a distinct arc. You aren’t swelling and deflating with resources like a pufferfish. Instead, the whole game has you shuffling your cubes up and down in service of slowly shuttling the pods containing your crew into the caverns. The majority of your points will come from that, both from just existing underground, and from the area majority aspect of the caves.
Cryo is probably the perfect name for the game, because the pacing can feel glacial. One of the things I complained about when reviewing Rajas of the Ganges, was that I get annoyed when the growth of an engine is just trading one resource for 2 others. Giving up a green resource to earn a pink and a grey resource is not what I find exciting in a board game. Cryo , is a little better than Rajas in doling out bonus resources that enable you to take just one extra action before needing to recall, but it’s a tiny step forward that still leaves me a bit frustrated.
As I said, Cryo has a distinct arc. At first, you’ll spend your time playing cards as upgrades to give you a bit of a leg up, and you’ll take the resource tokens from the main board and slot them into the little formulas on your player board, so when you recall your drones, you can activate those resource conversions. Then, later on during the game, you really need to focus on playing your cards as ships, dismantling those formulas you built earlier in the game for a bonus resource, and shuttling full loads of your workers into the underground. You aren’t doing the same thing at the end of the game as you were doing at the beginning of the game.
The production of Cryo is pretty excellent. The dual layer player boards help players see how to build their platform, the plastic drones stack together very satisfyingly (although there’s never a reason to stack the drones). The art direction is excellent, with thick lines and flat pastel colours, I’m reminded of landscapes of Moebius’ sci-fi comic strips, or Scavengers Reign. The premise of the game should be applauded too. Instead of the same old boring story of economics and wealth generation, we’re treated to a bit of a sci-fi struggle. A tiny bit of tension, pushing you to get your pods underground before the sun sets, is something I enjoy much more than the generic game plot of earning money for the sake of earning money.
There’s nothing wrong with Cryo, but also nothing that makes me want to return. It’s a solid game with a cool theme and competent design, but in a hobby packed with engine-builders, Cryo doesn’t give me a reason to reach for it again. If someone eagerly brought it to the table, I’d play. But it’s not one I’ll be suggesting anytime soon.
Writing a review of Final Fantasy VI feels a little intimidating. This is a game that’s regularly listed among the greatest JRPGs of all time, if not one of the greatest video games of all time. NPR, Den of Geek, and Push Square have all ranked Final Fantasy VI as the very best entry in the series. It comes up anytime anyone asks what the best Final Fantasy game is, usually right alongside Final Fantasy VII and X.
My own experience with Final Fantasy VI is limited. I never played it on the SNES when I was a kid, I took a short run at it on an emulator on my phone nearly a decade ago, but I didn’t get very far on that attempt. This time, though, I’ve seen the credits roll, and I get it now. It’s good. Great, even. I have my complaints, sure, but overall it was a rich, memorable experience.
I’ll have more to say on how it compares to its SNES siblings in a separate post about the trilogy as a whole. For now, let’s talk about Final Fantasy VI, what it does well, where it stumbles, and why it still holds up all these years later.
The Story Begins…
Final Fantasy VI opens with 3 characters in Magitech suits of armour stomping across a barren, snow covered plain, a town nestled in the mountains slowly rising on the horizon. Those mechs stomp through the town of Narshe, and walk right up to an Esper, frozen in ice. Terra, feels pulled to it, and she and the Esper react to each other, giving off a blinding light.
Terra wakes up in a bed in a nearby home. An old man reveals that he pulled a mind control unit off of her head, returning her control to her body. Unfortunately, she can’t remember anything. Almost immediately, soldiers of the Empire bang on the door, and demand they turn Terra over to them. Terra flees out the back of the home into a nearby mine, where she is trapped and falls into a pit.
The old man sends Locke, a thief treasure hunter, after her, as Locke is a member of the Returners, a resistance group fighting against the growing Empire. Locke finds her, swears to protect her, and decides to head to Figaro to speak with the king. King Edgar, technically has an alliance with the Empire, but Locke reports that this is a ruse. Edgar is a high ranking member of the Returners, and is waiting for the right opportunity to turn on the Empire.
Enter Kefka, a general from the Empire, who shows up at Castile Figaro, and demands that Edgar turn over the girl. Edgar plays dumb, so Kefka does the most logical thing. Set the whole castle on fire. Edgar reveals that the castle can actually submerge under the sands, and it does to evade Kefka’s wrath.
Edgar, Locke, and Terra meet up with Edgars brother, Sabin, and then eventually with Bannon, leader of the Returners as well. As the group are deciding their next course of action, the Empire appears on their doorstep once again. The party escapes out the back, leaps onto a raft, and after a fast ride down the river, the party is split into three different groups.
The World of Balance
Unlike past Final Fantasy games, Final Fantasy VI is not set in a purely high fantasy setting. During the opening cutscene, it’s revealed that magic has actually waned over the last century, and the humans have developed technology to make their lives easier (technology like a whole-ass castle that can submerge under the sands). The characters still wield swords, and Terra uses the familiar Fire magic, but much of the world is clad in metal. There’s a bit of a grungy steampunk aesthetic to the world, that is a welcome change from the classical fantasy themes the past 5 games have treated us to.
Returning to the gameplay style of Final Fantasy IV, each character has a specific archetype they generally fit into, which also limits what characters can equip specific gear. Edgar can wield swords and spears, while Locke can handle swords and knives. There’s lots of overlap, but also some characters have weapons only they can use. Each character has their own skill as well, like Locke’s Steal ability, where he can swipe items from monsters, or Sabin’s Blitz commands, which require the player to enter a button combo a la street fighter to execute a command. These skills are specific to each character, no swapping skills here. It’s a bit of a jarring return to form, considering Final Fantasy V was all about letting you mix and match your abilities to create some really fun combinations. But in the end, I think this system allows the developers and designers to create a much more narratively cohesive character.
When in doubt, suplex a train.
Some of the character skills feel outright broken. Sabin, for example, got an attack called Rising Phoenix, that hit all the enemies on the field, often KOing most of them. Edgar similarly, has an auto-crossbow, that hits all enemies without any damage penalty. Neither of these skills have a cool-down or MP cost, which means I pretty much spammed them for most battles. It was rare that I chose the default attack option over their skills in any situation.
Rise of the Mad Clown Kefka
The story of Final Fantasy VI doesn’t necessarily have a main character. Terra, is an obvious player surrogate, considering she has amnesia, and gives other characters the perfect excuse to dump expository dialogue. The story does seem to revolve around her for a while, at the very least. While there could be arguments made for either Terra, Locke, or Edgar to be the main character, but really, Final FantasyVI has an ensemble cast. 14 characters in total join your party. Shadow, the mysterious sell-sword comes and goes, while Cyan joins up with Sabin after Kefka poisons the water of Castle Domo, killing everyone inside, including empire prisoners, Domo soldiers, and Cyan’s king, along with his wife and child. Celes, and ex-general of the Empire, joins Locke when he finds her chained in a dungeon with her execution scheduled for the next day. he vows to protect her, and scuttles her to safety.
Most of the 14 characters have their own place in the story, and you will be rewarded with extra cutscenes if you have those characters in your party when you visit certain locations. Like witnessing Edgar and Sabin’s flashback to when Sabin renounced the crown, leaving his brother to take on the role of governing the kingdom after their father died, or Shadows dreams if he’s in the party when you rest at an inn. Most of the characters feel fully realized and complex. Others, however, are one note. Mog is a Moogle who just wants to help. Gau is a child, raised by monsters, who follows you around after you throw some meat his way.
The party eventually make their way back to Narshe, and Terra confronts the Esper again. She transforms into a pink creature and flies away. After finding her, they learn from Ramuh that Terra is half human and half Esper. The empire has been experimenting on Espers to draw their magical abilities out, and infuse their soldiers with these powers, hence why Celes is able to use Blizzard. Ramuh reveals that Espers can turn themselves into Magicite, and lend their powers to the party. By holding a magicite, the characters both learn how to use magic, and can call upon the summon once per battle.
The party embarks on a mission to storm the Empire, and free the trapped Espers within. Celes stands in at an opera to trick Setzer so the party can make use of his airship. The party manages to break into the Magitech research facility and finds more Espers, which sense Ramuh’s power within yours, so they turn to Magicite too. Cid, the researcher who has been heading the Esper project, sees the magicite and is awed by its power. Turns out, the empire didn’t know about Magicite until now. And now Kefka and the Emperor Gestahl are in on the secret too.
After a flashback revealing the history of Gestahl breaking into the Esper realm and dragging some denizens back to this world, The group decide to open the sealed gate to ask the remaining Espers to help them stop the Empire once and for all. When they do so, Kefka and Gestahl appear right behind them. The Espers rush out and lay waste to the surrounding areas. Their raw power apparently sapping Gestahl’s thirst for conquest.
Gestahl imprisons Kefka and asks the party to team up. He needs an envoy to meet with the Espers and convince them to live peacefully together. Obviously, the empire can’t do it, so you’ll need to be the ones to broker peace. Terra and the team meet up with the Espers, and agree to live in harmony. The moment hands are shaken, Kefka bursts in again, and kills the Espers, forcing them to turn into Magicite, claiming their power for himself. With dozens of Magicite in hand, Kefka revels in his God-like power, and literally raises a continent from the ground into the sky. The party chase after them, and confront Gestahl and Kefka on the Floating Continent. Kefka tries to akwaken the warring Triad, the trio of Gods who turned themselves to stone to end the War of the Magi centuries ago. Gestahl, knowing awakening the Triad would bring about the end of the world, tries to stop Kefka, who kills Gestahl and flings his body from the Floating Continent. The party barely manage to escape the Floating Continent via the airship with their lives, but Kefka’s meddling with the Warring Traid destabilizes the planet, causing huge rifts in the geography to form, and for the airship to be torn asunder. The party is scattered to the winds, and the screen fades to black. Kefka has won.
World of Ruin
A year passes. Celes wakes up in a cabin on a small island. Cid, has been taking care of her for a year. He says he doesn’t know if anyone else is alive. The others who were on the planet with them have flung themselves from the cliffs in dispair. Cid himself, is sick, and doesn’t have much time left. Celete tries to save him, but when she fails, she climbs the mountain herself, and gives into her dispair.
I assume it’s her magic-enhanced body that saves her, but she awakens on the beach, washed ashore. There, she sees a seagull with a bandana wrapped around one wing. The same kind of Bandana that Locke wore. Perhaps the others survived after all. Celes returns to the cabin, reads the letter Cid left her before he succumbed to his illness, and finds a raft in the basement. She pushes herself off to sea to find her companions.
The second half of the game is Celes bringing the gang back together. Terra is found in a village taking care of half a dozen children who call her “Mama”. Edgar is found as the leader of a gang of thieves, as he leads a pillaging expedition to Castle Figaro. Shadow is found face down in a cave with a Behometh bearing down on him. Cyan is a hermit on a mountain, exchaning flowery letters with a girl in the village below.
You don’t have to collect everyone before taking on Kefka again. Once you have an airship and at least 3 party members, you can land on Kefka’s tower at anytime to begin the final assault. Each of the characters side quests will reward you with excellent gear, more magicite, and even some new party members who weren’t available in the World of Balance half of the game. Doing these sidequests give more flavour to each character, and are worth seeking out.
Once you embark on the assault, you split into 3 groups. Each group winds their way through the tower, pushing buttons to make paths for the other groups. All 12 characters you brought along convene for the final confrentation. God-Kefka laughs at your futilitiy. “Life? Hopes? Dreams? Where do they come from? And where are they headed? these things… I am going to destroy!” His nihistic nature is directly opposed by Terra and Locke, who have found hope and love, even in a ruined world. It’s an intense and emotional confrontation.
Once slain, the characters escape the tower, and the credits roll. Everyone lives happily ever after.
My Thoughts and Experiences
My thoughts on Final Fantasy VI are a bit conflicted, but overall, I quite enjoyed the game. The ensamble cast idea is good in theory, I like the freedom of being able to choose my team and uncover the characters stories as I adventure with them in the world. But not all characters are created equal. Some, like Gau, Relm, Mog, and Gogo are just flat and one note. As far as I can tell, there’s no motovations to these characters, nor do they react emotionally to the context of the story. Thankfully, the others pick up the slack. From discovering Locke’s fallen love, and his obsessive pursuit of finding a relic that can bring her back from the dead, to Cyan’s journey of losing his family and kingdom, I grew attached to many of these characters.
The first half of the game is a triumph of storytelling. You travel the world, picking up companions, create alliances and get betrayed, and eventually bring the fight to Kefka. Once the World of Ruin half of the game starts, the party is scattered, and the whole second half of the game is just, finding the same characters again. On one hand, this fusturates me. I already assembled the team, why do I have to do it again? On the other hand, this section of the game is non-linear. You can pick up almost any of the characters in any order. In addition to being non-linear, it’s also mostly optional. Once you have Edgar and Setzer, you can start the assult on Kefka’s tower to end the game. As far as pacing goes, the story comes to a screeching halt. The overarching narrative points you to Kefka’s tower, but you’ll spend 10 hours chasing down each characters side stories and vignettes. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, I really enjoy character development, but it’s a drastic shift from the first half.
By the time you’ve collected all your companions, and chased down any side missions you feel like doing, such as gathering more powerful Espers, or finding some of the best equipment, you’ll have likely settled on a party that you particularly like. Another fusturating moment for me showed up when I started the assult of Kefka’s tower. You split all the characters you’ve acquired into 3 parties, but most will likely be in the low to mid 30’s, with your core team in the mid to high 40’s. All the benched characters also completly lack magic, unless you’ve been going out of your way to swap characters in and out so they have a chance acquire the powerful skills. To me, this means you either need to grind a bit with all the characters to boost their level and magic ability, or, break up your main party amongst the teams and hope they can carry the load.
On that note, I did not find Final Fantasy VI very difficult. Between Sabin and Edgar spamming their skills, they easily carried me through the first half of the game. In the World of Ruin, Cyan got dual weild and a Masters Scroll, enabling him to attack 4 times with 2 weapons, unleashing more than 9999 damage for every one of his turns. I didn’t seek out Gau’s rages, or Strago’s Lores, or Mog’s dances. They weren’t in my main party, so I didn’t bother chasing down those rabbits. Some of the bosses had really intresting quirks or tricks that made me need to adjust my strategy, but aside from Leviathan obliterating my party until I leveled up a bunch, nothing felt like it was unbeatable after a bit of creativity.
All of this said, I really enjoyed Final Fantasy VI. The world was intresting, the characters were emotional and memorable, the music was amazing. The character sprites were expressive and fun, the landscape art was beautiful. The Magicite system lets everyone use magic, so one character isn’t just shoved into the role of White Mage, and mixing the relics let me customize the archtypes of each character just enough to keep me engaged. That being said, because magic is tied to magicite, it was a pain to have to swap magicite between characters so often. Ensuring everyone had some basic healing skills was one thing, but when it got to making sure all the elemental bases were covered on all four characters, it got really tedious having to go into the menus between every couple battles.
This tedium was exacerbated by the final dungeon, which has you create 3 teams of 4 characters. With 12 characters, all needing to share the best relics and magicite, it was a downright slog swapping items between characters. While I really like the concept of having to build out different teams, because it happened so infrequently, at least 2 characters on each team were almost completly devoid of any magic, and their equipment and relics were the bare dregs that I happened to have in my inventory.
I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about Kefka specifically. Much in the vein of the Joker from the Batman series, Kefka is just pure evil. He starts the game demanding his subordinates clean the sand from his boots as they trudge through the desert, complaining about the mission the emperor has given him. As the story progresses, every time he shows up, chaos and death follow. He has an iconic laugh, indicating that he revels in the war. He poisons the water supply of a castle under seige, killing everyone inside. Opposing solders, solders from his side that were taken captive, civilians, everyone. Later on in the game, it’s revealed that Kefka underwent experimentation much like Celes to imbue him with magic, but it broke his mind. Beyond that, Kefka never offers a reason for his evil. I was shocked when Kefka just straight up kills other players, his complete disregard for life laid bare. It was particularly prevelent when the party faces Kefka and the Emperor on the floating continent, and Kefka murders his Emperor. Kicks his lifeless body, then flings it off the platform to plummet to the Earth below. Kefka is a wild Villain. Unredeemable, and easy to hate. He is the chaotic evil Villain that is so easy to hate, because they are the anthisis of the values we all hold in our normal day to day life. The chaos he represents makes him an antoginist that I’ll remember for a long time to come.
Honestly, I could go on and on about Final Fantasy VI. There’s a ton to unpack in this game, and plenty of words have already been written covering this entry. I can see why Final Fantasy VI is considered a masterpiece, from it’s rich and emotional story, to it’s wide cast of unique characters, flexible magic system, and striking visuals, it was a profoundly enjoyable experience. Honestly, after completing the game, I felt a little let down. I was sad it was over, despite all my complaints I outlined above. And as the days have passed since finishing it, my thoughts and memories of Final Fantasy VI have only grown fonder.
Final Fantasy VI remains an excellent experience, even 25 years after it’s release. If you’ve never played Final Fantasy VI before, I implore you to give it a try. I don’t think it’s the best entry point for someone new to Final Fantasy games, or JRPGs in general. I may have come to Final Fantasy VI late, but the experience has left a mark on my heart all the same.
