Following up on Final Fantasy I, I chose to move right into Final Fantasy II to see how much changed from game to game. Released just a year after it’s predecesor in 1988 (still before I was born), Final Fantasy II at its core retains very little from the first game. The leveling mechanics, the party construction, the magic system, everything was tweaked and changed.
First, that fun bit of trivia, Canonically Final Fantasy II was the second Final Fantasy game. However, neither Final Fantasy II nor Final Fantasy III were originally released outside Japan, so when Final Fantasy IV came to North America, it was packaged and released as Final Fantasy II. I do think it’s worth mentioning that I played the GBA remake, not the original Famicom edition of the game. There are some gameplay differences, but the big improvement for me is the pixel art, which takes its art direction more from the SNES titles, which is much more to my preference.
Final Fantasy II is quite different from its predecessor. First things first, there’s actually a somewhat coherent story to follow. Your party consists of 3 main characters, Firion, Maria, and Guy. Maria’s brother, Lyon starts the game in your party, but in the very first battle you’re subject to a total party KO, and Lyon is immediately separated. What follows is a tale of rebellion, as the party assists the Princess Hilda in her efforts to reclaim her throne from the clutches of the evil Emperor. Filling out that 4th chracter slot, however, is a rotating series of characters who will join and leave the party as they progress through the story.
These characters often adhere to specific archtypes, like Minwu, the white mage, or Josef, the Monk, or Ricard, the lance wielding Dragoon. These characters will join your party for a dungeon or two, then more often than not, sacrifice themselves, so the main party can escape and continue on their quest to take down the empire. There are some surprisingly emotional moments, especailly as you encounter their loved ones after their sacrifice. It gives the story weight and consequence, a much needed improvement over the first game.
Speaking of archtypes, Final Fantasy II completely abandons the job/class system from the first game. Now, every character can equip any piece of equipment, and learn any spell. There are no official or specific levels to each character, but now the more you use a specific equipment or spell, the more proficient that character becomes. You will find your characters naturally falling into roles, like the character who casts Cure the most raises their spirit, which improves their healing potency, but there’s absolutely nothing stopping you from teaching your brawler some spells, and then grinding up their skill to a point where they’re viable.
This level system isn’t bad, by any stretch, but I did find it quite jarring, especially with my background knowledge of how the Final Fantasy series embraces classes and jobs in some of the later entries. On one hand, I really appreciate the flexibility. I liked teaching Life to all my characters so they could help out in a pinch, while having one character as the designated ‘healer’. On the other hand, it made each of the characters feel less distinct. Guy, whose art is depicted with huge muscles can take the daggers and be a speedy little guy, and you can give Maria dual axes, and she’ll stop everyone who crosses her path. This system created a little bit of dissonance for me.
I found Final Fantasy II to be much more difficult than its predecessor. From what I understand, there is a cap on your equipment levels, as they grow depending on the level of monster you’re attacking, somewhat limiting your ability to grind. I did run into one difficulty spike where my normal attacks were doing nearly 0 damage due to the monster’s high defense, so I relied on my magic to get me through the normal fights, but I couldn’t make my way through the whole dungeon. I ended up sailing around looking for late game towns, bought much better equipment, then flew through the rest of the game with my MP stat now over-leveled.
The dungeon layout this time around was a bit more frustrating. The sprawling labyrinths are still here, but now they’ve added a dozen empty rooms to each one. When you go through a door and end up in these empty rooms, it only takes 3 steps to get out, but these rooms have their monster spawn rate cranked way the hell up, resulting in at least one, sometimes two battle encounters per empty room.
The world map is also more of a problem, especially compared to the first game. While Final Fanasy gated your progress so you could only explore certian areas until you got the next mode of transportation, Final Fantasy II lets you wander into zones that are way beyond your level. This is especially egregious as you’re told to walk around a lake outside of the starting area, and going just a bit too far west can result in a near instant total party KO. Go ahead, ask me how I know.
There’s also more back tracking. It felt like after every dungeon, you need to trek your party all the way back to the starting area to report back to the princess to get the next clue on where to go next. on that note, it was generally easier to know where to go in this game. Another quirk of Final Fantasy II is that occasionally, someone will speak a keyword, that you can ‘learn’, then ask your keywords to many of the game’s main NPCs. Between each dungeon, most of the local NPCs would almost explicitly where to go next, and only a few times did I need to look up which keyword I had to use on which NPC. I kind of like this system, I imagine it would have been much more impactful in 1988, making the NPCs feel more alive and living through the story instead of just delivering the same line throughout the entirety of the game.
Strangely, Final Fantasy II doesn’t feel like a Final Fantasy game. Sure, all the common hallmarks are there; Bombs and Malboros, Cure and Fire, Potions and Phoenix Downs. But so many of the systems feel removed from what Final Fantasy later established as their hallmark features. Now, I know every Final Fantasy is different in its own way, from Active Time Battle Systems to Gambits, to Materia, and so on. Each entry in the Final Fantasy series has aspects that make them unique, but I’d argue that from all the Final Fantasy games I’ve played, Final Fantasy II feels the least like a Final Fantasy game.
Trying to put myself in the mindset of 1988 without the literal decades of hindsight, I’d say that Final Fanasy II is a bold new direction for a sequel, but for all its ambition, it kind of loses some of the magic that made Final Fantasy an instant classic. Not to say that it’s a bad game, it’s a great JRPG, but as Final Fantasy game, this was just okay for me. I didn’t love it, but I’m glad I can finally say that I’ve played it.
Long before I knew what “grinding XP” meant or knew what a Phoenix Down was, I was already deep into the world of JRPGs. Back then, I didn’t have a massive library of games available to me, so anything promising dozens of hours of gameplay instantly drew my attention. One of my earliest forays into the JRPG genre was Final Fantasy II on the SNES (It’s actually called Final Fantasy IV, but that’s a rabbit hole for another day). That game kicked off a lifelong fondness for the Final Fantasy series, even if I haven’t actually finished most of the mainline entries.
Well, that changes now.
Armed with my trusty Retroid Pocket 4 Pro, I’ve embarked on a mission: to play through every mainline Final Fantasy game it can handle. And I’m starting right where it all began, albeit with the 2004 Game Boy Advance remake, Final Fantasy I, from the Dawn of Souls anthology.
First Impressions from a Nearly Blank Slate
Aside from a vague memory of beating Garland once years ago, this was essentially my first real experience with Final Fantasy I. And right off the bat, I made full use of modern conveniences: 2x speed and auto-mapping the A button to the trigger so I could turbo through the many, long, repetitive battles. Let’s be honest, those random encounters feel relentless, so anything to streamline them is a blessing.
Final Fantasy I has you playing as a customizable party, and sets your party as the four Warriors of Light, each carrying a darkened crystal, and you’re tasked with restoring balance to the world. Or something to that effect. Like many NES-era games, the real story is half-buried in the game manual and whispered through snippets of NPC dialogue scattered across towns. Don’t expect cutscenes or lore dumps, this is old-school storytelling where you’re expected to connect the dots yourself and let your imigination fill in the gaps.
Lost Without a Guide. And That’s Kind of the Point
I made it about a third of the way through the game before caving and pulling up both a walkthrough and a world map. Final Fantasy I offers little in the way of direction. Instead, it leans on cryptic clues from villagers and a whole lot of trial and error. It reminded me of being on the playground, swapping secrets with friends about how to wake the elven prince or where to find that random witch who needs a magic eye.
It’s charming in a way. When you stumble upon the specific place you need to me is exciting. But it also means a lot of wandering interrupted by constant random battles. Exploration is a chore when every five steps you get warped into another pointless encounter. I know the newest remakes (Pixel Remaster) has an option that lets you turn off the random encounters altogether, but that wasn’t an option here. If you’re not following a guide and don’t know where to go, you MIGHT eventually find the right place to go. And you’ll be massively over levelled when you get there.
Dungeon Design Done Right
That said, I really enjoyed the dungeon design. They’re sprawling, treasure-packed mazes that feel rewarding to explore. Unlike later entries in the series where dungeons sometimes devolve into glorified hallways, these had nooks and cranies to explore. Finding new, powerful loot and immediately smacking a boss with it? Always satisfying.
Thanks to my turbo-boosted gameplay, I ended up over leveled without even trying. I didn’t grind on purpose, I just got lost a lot. By the time I reached each of the four elemental Fiends, they went down in 3 or 4 rounds. The real challenge came from resource management: making it through a dungeon with enough HP and MP left to survive the trip back to the nearest town. More than once at the start of the game, I limped out of a dungeon with my party barely clinging to life. Eventually, even that tension faded as my levels climbed.
Final Boss, Final Thoughts
The only minor roadblock was the final boss, Chaos, whose brutal AoE spells finally gave my White Mage something to panic about. Even then, I managed to beat him on the first try. When the credits rolled, my in-game clock showed 13 hours, and my party was hovering around level 61.
So… how does Final Fantasy I hold up today?
It’s tricky. Evaluating a nearly 40-year-old game with modern eyes is unfair, but inevitable. The magic system feels thin, the stats often feel meaningless, and gear is mostly just a numbers game. Most of the spells go unused, equipment lacks flair, and your Black Mage is either useless or a glass cannon depending on how full their MP bar is.
And yet, Final Fantasy was a revelation in its time. It pioneered mechanics and tropes that became the foundation for the genre. Games I’ve loved over the decades owe their existence to this one.
Should You Play It?
If you’re looking for a polished, modern RPG experience, this isn’t it. But if you want to pay homage to where it all began, to the roots of a genre that shaped generations of gamers, then it’s worth your time. Especially with some emulator tweaks to make the ride a little smoother.
I’m glad I finally checked this one off my list. Even with its rough edges, Final Fantasy still manages to shine. It’s a monument to what came before, a stepping stone in the evolution of RPGs. I may not recommend it to everyone, but I absolutely respect the ground it broke.
Now, onward to Final Fantasy II (The real Final Fantasy II, not the US version which is actually Final Fantasy IV).
Somewhat recently, I made a slightly impulsive purchase that I’ve come to deeply appreciate. I picked up a Retroid Pocket 4 Pro on Facebook Marketplace. I didn’t have any plans for it, I was just thirsting for a new console, and when I saw the Switch 2’s launch price, I decided it was the perfect time to pivot away from Nintendo. For those unfamiliar with Retroid, it’s a slick little handheld device that runs on an Android OS, has a built in controller, and manages to emulate a staggering range of consoles. After firing it up, and following Retro Game Corps guide for suggestions how to configure it, and playing Tetrisphere, I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. It’s the classic conundrum. With this device, literally thousands of games are at my fingertips, how do you choose what to play!?
The realization that this single device can play every mainline Final Fantasy game up to 12 was a revelation. I’ve always been a fan of Final Fantasy, and JRPGs in general, although my track record on finishing them is spotty at best. Thus begins my newest gaming project: a full Final Fantasy playthrough challenge, from the humble beginnings of Final Fantasy I on the NES, to the fully voiced drama of Final Fantasy XII on the PS2. No skips, no shortcuts, just a steady journey through one of gaming’s most iconic RPG series. I’ll be playing the best available versions I can run on the Retroid Pocket 4 Pro, which, in some cases, means GBA remakes, and in others, full console ports.
Why Do This?
Part nostalgia, part curiosity, and part unshakeable love for the genre. Final Fantasy has always been in the background of my gaming life, from playing Final Fantasy IV on the SNES as a kid and utterly mesmerized by the story, to playing dozens of other JRPGs by Square Enix over the past decades, and seeing the same themes and monsters make their annual appearances. But until now, I’ve never experienced the entire series in a cohesive, chronological way.
I’m curious to see how the series, and my tastes, evolve: mechanically, narratively, thematically. How the battle systems grow more complex. How the stories shift from high fantasy and simplicity to science fiction political intrigue. How the pixel art set pieces give way to pre-rendered cutscenes and voice acting. Final Fantasy has been around for over 35 years, I want to witness the full scope of what it became, one game at a time.
The Rules of the Challenge
Mainline single-player titles only: That’s Final Fantasy I through XII. I’m skipping XI because it’s an MMO and I hate MMOs. I’m sure I’ll throw in some spin-off games in there, like the Tactics series, or the first two Dissida games.
Best version available on Retroid: GBA remakes, PSP ports, and patched translations where needed.
No rushing: I’m not speedrunning, nor am I working towards 100%. I’m playing the games like I play every game. exploring where my curiousity gets peaked, and skipping optional sections when I hit a wall.
Written reflections: After finishing each game, I’ll post a review-style reflection, highlighting story beats, mechanical design, and my personal experience with each title.
What’s Next?
I’ve already wrapped up Final Fantasy I–V, and the posts are rolling out one by one. From the humble, D&D-inspired beginnings of FFI, to the mechanical joy that was FFV‘s Job system. In the first 5 games there has been a surprising amount of variety.
Next up? The legendary Final Fantasy VI. If the online consensus is to be believed, one of the best games in the series, if not one of the best games ever made.
I hope you join me on this pilgrimage. Whether you’re a longtime fan or just Final Fantasy-curious, I hope my journey through these iconic worlds sparks some nostalgia, or maybe even inspires you to start your own.
A Steam key was provided by the Developer, Monster Couch
I’ve already reviewed Calico back in 2021, and if you’ve followed along my Top 100 games list (2024 edition) you might have noticed that Calico sits at slot #14. I LOVECalico, how difficult the puzzle is, the tension of trying to complete competing objectives, and the juxtaposition of the cozy and cute aesthetic.
Last June I checked out the demo for Quilts & Cats of Calico, the digital implementation of this amazing board game. As of March 5th, the full game was released onto the world, and I’m here to give my review of this digital board game!
I’m not going to spend any time talking about how much I love the core game play of Calico, as you can read the post I linked above for all that good stuff. Instead, I’ll give my impressions on the video game as it stands on its own.
The first mode is simply “Play”, which gives you a normal game of Calico. As expected, you have freedom to choose the number of opponents, their difficulty, which of the cats you want present in the game, or randomize those choices. They even include the Family mode (without goals), and the lower variance mode (only two tiles of each colour and pattern are included in the bag). There’s also a bunch of extra rules that you can explore (such as only being able to play tiles next to tiles of the same colour, play without a hand of tiles, and more)
It’s difficult to gauge the strength of each AI opponent, but after 3 games against the hardest level, I still have yet to lose. Perhaps I’ve been lucky, or, Calico isn’t a deeply strategic game where having a neural network is a huge advantage over a human opponent, but much more tactical. Calico‘s puzzle is more about risk management, and choosing which of the scoring opportunities you’re willing to forfeit. That said, I feel like I’m quite a good Calico player. Which leads me nicely into the weekly challenges
The weekly challenges is a module that gives every player the exact same situation. The same objectives to choose from, the same order of tiles, the same cats, everything. Then, once completed, displays a leaderboard of the players who achieved the highest scores for the week, and encourages you to try and climb that leaderboard!
I’m reminded of the Sagrada app by Direwolf. I fancied myself a very good Sagrada player, until the weekly challenges put me in my place. Only once I managed to break into the top 100 players, after a few months of attempts. Calico‘s leaderboards are the same, where I’m currently scoring between 50% and 30% less than those at the top of the leaderboard. One difference is that the Calico weekly challenges lets you reply the scenario several times to try and get a better score.
There’s even a robust cat creator for you to create your own herd of cats, with numerous accessories, colours, and fluff and face options. I immediately set to creating my childhood cat, Sammich, and after doing so, I really grew to love seeing him pop up as one of the objectives. While it’s not a mode that I’m going to spend a lot of time in, I could see some people having a really great time creating a whole herd of cats.
My very first impressions of The Quilts & Cats of Calico are that this implementation feels overwrought. There’s 3D cats crawling across the board, thin white thread flies and sews in every tile you place on your quilt in a dramatic flourish, and the buttons and cat tokens twinkle and twirl and fly across the screen when they’ve been earned. I’m a lot more used to very bare bones and aesthetically faithful adaptions, such Istanbul, created by Acram Digital, or The Isle of Skye by Twin Sails. These implementations have no little to flourishes, and really try to emulate the table experience on the screen.
The really big draw of The Quilts & Cats of Calico for me, was the story mode. The story sets you down in the city of Tomkitty, with the military stationed outside. Your father has mysteriously disappeared, and you’ve set out to find your aunt, who will help you start your journey to become the next greatest seamstress. The world seemed to be a lot more keen on quilts and their magical properties to attract cats than in real life.
The story is a lot more dramatic than I expected, but ultimately, forgettable. The Factory has developed a machine called the Iron Loom that can pump out quilts by the minute, but they lack the charm to attract cats. There’s a military encampment outside the town gates for some reason, and you’re roaming from quirky character to quirky character to patch their quilts and scarves because your quiltmanship attracts the magical cats. The dialogue plays the part straight, it’s not self-aware or trying to be funny in the slightest: “The General has heard about you, and need to see you immediately.” “Make a new standard for the army of Tomkitty. Not just any standard – we want it to attract extraordinary cats. Are you up to it?”, then, “With the cats’ help, we can surely destroy the southern units… or….”. I struggled to tell my partner about the plot when she asked me about it.
So much drama!
The first scenarios scaffold you into thinking about the puzzle of Calico. You’ll do a mission where your only goal is to earn 3 cat tokens, then do a mission where you need to earn a few buttons, then a mission to get a rainbow button. And these are puzzles, you’ll often be given only the bare minimum tiles needed to complete an objective. As you get further into the story, special rules are introduced. Get a cat token while only placing same colours next to each other, that sort of thing. The whole exercise reminds me of those chess puzzles where you’re given a board state and told to mate in 2.
Nonsensical story aside, the story mode is a nice diversion. Each of the puzzles had you try to do something different, and sometimes it was a bit of a challenge trying to figure out exactly the way the pieces were supposed to fit in together. I particularly enjoyed the ones where it was required to place a tile next to another one where the colour or pattern matched. Those puzzles required the tiles to go down in a specific order, and were the most satisfying when I finished the puzzles. It was a nice diversion, and a good way to think about the puzzle of Calico, even if it’s not exactly making you a better player by showing you all the tiles and the order in which they’re coming out. But without that feature, the puzzles would be nigh impossible.
For aficionados of whimsical experiences, Quilts and Cats of Calico delivers a delightful adaptation. The serene music washes over players, creating a calming and relaxing atmosphere. The visual flourishes are not only aesthetically pleasing but also satisfying, adding to the cozy ambience. As cats lazily wander the game board, their presence enhances the overall charm. While my name may never grace the leaderboards, I found joy in unravelling the puzzles within the story mode. Meanwhile, my partner eagerly embraced the opportunity to create her own clowder of custom cats. Although this game may not win over new players, nor convert those who previously bounced off the Calico tabletop experience, it remains an excellent homage for those of us who hold it dear.
There will be story spoilers near the end of the review. You have been warned
I identify as a “JRPG fan”. While I don’t play them very often any more, during my formative years, I yearned for the story driven adventure. The rag-tag crew of warriors, travelling across the land, building their might and magic to return peace and tranquility to the land. Among some of my favourite games on the SNES were Final Fantasy IV (which was called Final Fantasy II in North America), and Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars.
Back in June, Sea of Stars appeared on my radar after its tremendous Steam Next Fest demo. It was gorgeous, polished, and I couldn’t wait to dive deeper into the world. Sabotage Studio had previously created The Messenger, which was an obvious labour of love from a dedicated team of folks who first and foremost loved games. I had fully missed the crowdfunding campaign, but I was beyond hyped when I was the release for the game was only a few months away.
Drawing on inspirations like Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger, Sea of Stars is a turn based RPG that features an active combat mechanic where you can deal extra damage, or defend damage by pressing a button at just the right time. Instantly I was engaged, getting the two hit strikes in one the early enemies gave a rush, and kept me from just mashing the A button the whole time, like I do in some other RPGs (cough Pokemon cough).
Adding another wrinkle of complexity, attacks have various attributes, like blunt or blade, lunar or solar power, and poison or arcane. Monsters across the world will charge their special attacks, but in doing so, leave themselves vulnerable to a specific combination of elements. If you can manage to hit all their vulnerabilities, you’ll interrupt their attack! Sometimes fully staggering an enemy is impossible, but breaking even just some of the locks will reduce the amount of damage they deal to your party.
While engaging, the combat system isn’t particularly deep. There’s no status effects, buffs or debuffs to worry about. Battle is about hitting hard and fast and exploiting your enemies weaknesses. There are combo attacks that you can build up to, but by the time your team is fully realized, you’ll have a handful of strategies that you’ll deploy over and over again, with the only changes being to hit those locks as they pop up. And when all else fails, Moonarang everyone to death.
Further to the combat, Sea of Stars features a lush and vibrant world. The colour is bold and bright, the lighting is dynamic and breathtaking. I couldn’t stop myself from taking screenshot after screenshot of the gorgeous vistas. There are so many moments in Sea of Stars that are just a visual delight. The environments are a joy to flow through, with a ton of different ledges and cliffs to grapple and climb. Most dungeons may be fairly linear, but they feel interesting. It’s also easy to move through, instead of trying to find the exact right pixel to press “jump” at. Sea of Stars also is very generous in that it never makes you backtrack. You either exit at the back of a dungeon, or, a shortcut is unlocked that enables you to get back to the entrance easily. Of course, as the game progresses and you explore more of the world, the options for travel get better and better.
The only thing that tops how this game looks, is how it sounds. Composer Eric W. Brown has done a phenomenal job in creating beautiful sounds for every biome Sea of Stars has to throw at you. The battle music keeps you pumped and energized, while the overworld music calms you down. The music lends to the world building as well, making each local memorable
The characters and dialogue was charming right from the get-go. From Garl’s unceasing optimism to Yolande’s fourth wall breaking jokes, I relished the characters and the stories they told to and with each other. Now, perhaps it’s just me, but in reading the promotional material for Sea of Stars, there was a fair amount of emphasis on the fact that you’ll have a ship to act as your home base. Much ado was made about this fact, but in my normal play through, I only really entered the “ship mode” and interacted with the characters like… twice. I used the ship a ton, it’s necessary to traverse the waterlogged world, but interacting with the characters took place at campsites and cities.
Story spoilers begin here
So, great visuals, great sound, great characters, great locales, what’s not to love about Sea of Stars? Well, the story is one of duty, loss, betrayal, but all underpinned with a sense of optimism. When childhood heroes betray you, or when the very best of us is the one to pay the ultimate price, it plays on some very emotional moments. The heroes never give up, even when things seem bleak. Ultimately, I got the feeling that the heroes struggles were somewhat meaningless. The solstice warriors are the only ones who can save the world from these terrible monsters, and only during a solstice, but when your order is betrayed and your mentor just gives up, the heroes are left to fight on their own. And while they do ultimately kind of succeed, the larger conflict feels so much more grand than the journey we go on. While we toil against our little villains, there is a much larger conflict that we’re just a small part of, and it made me feel like our sacrifices and pain was ultimately for naught.
In the same vein of Van Hohenheim and Father from Full Metal Alchemist, a pair of immortal beings (the Alchemist and the Fleshmancer) are waging a centuries long conflict. Once the best of friends and confidants, they grew apart as one descended into ‘forbidden’ arts, while the other, taking the high road, ultimately faded into obscurity. This conflict lies above our heroes in Sea of Stars, and I actually got Tales of Symphonia vibes from the story here. The solutions the heroes sought out were considered impossible by anyone who had experience, but they were too ignorant or dumb to know that. This is highlighted when one of the heroes grabs a flask and hurls it at an abomination, shattering an ancient covenant between the two immortal beings and ultimately causing the death of a party member.
Approaching the end of the story the first time, it feels like some of the characters just got bored and left of their own volition. The Alchemist who seemed so invested in you just, snaps his fingers, leaves you with a puppet, and walks away. The Fleshmancer who was so intent on growing world eating abominations, likewise just, disappears after you defeat his final champion. The Alchemist says “Time to go” and they just leave together. The heroes ascend into godhood, and the credits roll.
There is a true ended, locked behind completing several tasks that will scatter you to the corners of the world again. This time, when you confront The Fleshmancer, you actually take them on directly instead of their champion. A little more satisfying, for sure, but again, the end of the fight just has The Alchemist pull them up off the ground by their hand, and gently nudge them into a portal. The solstice warriors ascend to Godhood and fly off to deal with the world eaters. No real resolution to the conflict of the Alchemist and Fleshmancer, just… an end. The only real difference is a single life saved, which doesn’t really matter in the scope of centuries. I’d expect a true ending to be quite a bit different, with an actual resolution. I enjoyed that the true ending boss was different, but the broad strokes of the story remained the same.
One more criticism comes in the form of Teaks. Not her character specifically, but just the fact that she has a magic book. Heaven forbid she be knowledgeable from her years of dedication and study. Nope, she just has a magic book that spells out the history of certain objects for her. I did enjoy the lore she injected into the story, but I wanted her to be so much more, and actually be competent because of her skills and knowledge, not just the holder of a magic book. She was treated as cargo, and I feel like her character could have been so much more.
Story qualms aside, I still really enjoyed Sea of Stars. Like their previous game The Messenger, it’s obvious that Sabotage Studio is a group of talented and dedicated video games lovers. I still had a blast playing Sea of Stars, to the point where I actually sought out the true ending. While the ending disappointed me, it doesn’t take away from the fact that Sea of Stars looked and sounded great, and I still really enjoyed the adventure. It’s one that I would recommend to anyone who professes a nostalgic love for JRPGs, especially the ones that served as inspiration for this game. There’s plenty of room in the story for a sequel, so I’ll keep my eyes on Sabotage to see what they come up with next.
There’s something special about the indie scene. In a world where media content is seen as products and the priority for many people is to make a return on their investments, the indie scene stands out as a place for passionate people to create the games they want to play, and to showcase their love for the medium.
Sabotage Studio embraces that ethos. Created by just 12 people, The Messenger is a celebration of classic retro-platforming in the same vein as Ninja Gaiden or Metroid, or Castlevania. The inspirations are clear and their reverence for the past is obvious.
Looks can be deceiving. I fear that the 8-bit graphical style will immediately turn players away, especially considering it’s up against hundreds of games that use full 3D models, cel-shaded characters that pop off the screen, and fantastic dynamic lighting effects. Thankfully, The Messenger gets you into the action right away. You move, you jump, and you swing your sword. The key hook of the game is the cloudstep manoeuvre, which allows you to make another jump if you manage to smack something with your sword while in midair. Those mechanics will take you through most of the game, with only your skill and timing being the barrier to progressing. Movement is satisfying, and when you’re fully kitted up, The Messenger can flow through the level in a way that just makes you feel like you’re a ninja.
The Messenger‘s story is simple and fast. A foretold demon appears to destroy humanity, but a hero from the west appears to stop it. He hands you the scroll and tells you to deliver the scroll to the mountain, all the way to the right. And with that, you’re off, racing along various biomes, slashing and jumping over any obstacle that gets in your way. The soundtrack by Eric W. Brown (or Rainbowdragoneyes on Spotify) is absolutely brilliant. It’s fast, frenetic, and feels nostalgic while being entirely new. Every new biome and encounter has thematic music, and every new track becomes a fast favourite of mine.
As you make your way through each of the biomes, you’ll see ledges you can’t reach, and goodies that seem impossible to access. Like any metroidvania game, you’ll obtain a few upgrades to improve your manoeuvrability as the game progresses. A rope dart (it’s a grappling hook, come on) that lets you grab ledges that are out of reach, a wingsuit that slows your fall, and climbing claws that let you cling to walls. There’s a great feeling of discovery as you enter each biome. What upgrade will you unlock? What new enemies or boss will you need to overcome? What story will the shopkeeper tell? All of it kept me engaged and pushing forward.
The dialogue in The Messenger is consistently high quality and hilarious. From the shopkeeper’s long-winded diatribes, to the stories she tells, to the death screen quotes negging you, all the text feels like it’s coming from a group of passionate individuals. Every interaction with the shopkeeper felt like its own reward, and the dialogue with the bosses often subverted my expectations.
At first, The Messenger is incredibly linear. Just keep running right. If you haven’t seen the gameplay trailer, you may not see the big twist coming, but a few hours into the game you unlock the ability to travel to the 16-bit future. Complete with new soundtracks, new art styles, and a sweet new hat, The Messenger opens up. Now you can backtrack to all the places you couldn’t reach before, and the feeling of freedom comes in strong.
Unfortunately, with the feeling of freedom, the feeling of discovery goes away. The biomes are changed, especially with the new aspect of time travel, opening new paths that were previously unavailable to you, and there are a few wholly new areas, but the pacing slows way down. You’re now tasked to collect 6 music notes, and they’re spread all over the world. With only cryptic messages to lead you, it can be a frustrating slog revisiting old biomes, searching for the fork in the path that will lead you to the item that the game wants you to get.
Even worse, the shopkeepers dialogue dries up. It’s hard to overstate how much of a reward getting new quips and stories from the shopkeeper was for me. After you’ve unlocked the ability to time travel, the dialogue becomes few and far between. It’s a dramatic shift in pacing that was jarring and disappointing, but in no way prevents me from recommending continuing on with the adventure. After the 16-bit era is unlocked, the characters you blazed by in the first half of the game come back, and their characters are developed. Going from single line villain’s to having tragic backstories and even helping you on your adventure, making it to the end of each plot line feels satisfying.
I died a lot while playing The Messenger. The little demon assigned to keep you alive would periodically let me know that my deaths were nearing triple digits. I never felt like The Messenger was being unfair. The gameplay and controls are so tight that when I died, I knew it was my own faults, and with enough practice and skill I could overcome whatever trial was keeping me down. The checkpoints are fairly generous, without making me replay long sections of a level over and over again.
Unlike many games releasing today, The Messenger felt like a product of passion. Sabotage Studios wanted to create a fun game that paid homage to the games that made us who we are today. Many games released today make me feel like I’m playing a product, one that’s designed to suck money out of my wallet, or just another game in a franchise. I’ve always despised the games as a service model, and The Messenger is a breath of fresh air. It’s just a good, fun video game.
