There are 3 facts about me that make me a miserable person.

1. I love stories

2. Reading for long periods of time frustrates me, because I am very slow

3. I have very little leisure time

While I should probably rethink my choice to pursue writing as a career, I am nonetheless drawn to a good story. Or an average, clichéd story. Or even a bad story. I love to tear into any story, guilty pleasure or not, if it is engaging. Stories can come in many wonderful forms: prose, poems, music, art, and even videogames. Especially videogames. For me, gaming is probably the most significant, most consistent portion of my life. I picked up a controller 19 years ago, and I have never stopped playing.

Gaming and solid narrative have always had a sordid affair, especially with the evolution of graphical prowess. Narrative in games can be expressed linearly or non-linearly, realistically or fancifully, interactively or non-interactively. I am not the man to argue about the nature of the medium or the inherent conflict of interactivity and narrative. I am only a lowly gamer that has a love/hate relationship with the premier king of engaging narrative: the JRPG.

The Japanese game market is a funny thing. Unlike the American side which constantly thirsts for new and different experiences (well, in some cases at least), the Japanese seem to be perfectly content releasing endless iterations of popular franchises once a winning formula has been found. That is not to say that innovation is not fostered as well, but more times than not, the safe horse wins the bets.

The most enduring crown jewel of Japanese gaming is the Japanese Role Playing Game. Whether turn-based or dynamic, the concept is simple. You battle to upgrade some sort of statistic or trait in order to level up from a lowly boy in a small village to become the ultimate savior of the world.

Oftentimes you and multiple characters are androgynous and your quest is always the same: save the world from some ancient, unimaginable evil. There are games that diverge from that motif a little, but not with great financial success (I’m looking at you Earthbound).



However clichéd, the epic scale of a good JRPG story cannot be denied. A good Final Fantasy game may be a carbon copy of the versions before it, but by the end of the hours-long campaign, you feel as if you have legitimately changed the face of the world. The boss battles in these games are grand, and require a decent knowledge and comfort with the game itself. Most of the time, you feel as if you are working towards a clear objective, and that everything you do is related to your quest, whether minor or major. Also, the many hours that you spend with the characters allow you to form a real bond to them, and give them a chance to become fleshed out and authentic.



Or, the characters can be totally 2-dimensional, the story predictable and the boss battles tedious. There is no worse feeling in the world than being invested deeply into a boss battle or dungeon and suddenly have the experience despite your best input. It has been 20 minutes since the last save point and the boss that you spent 15 minutes chipping away at suddenly released energy and killed your whole party all at once. Now you lost the gold that you gained, you have another 35 minutes before the boss will rip you a new one again, and worst of all, you know you have dozens of random encounters to sit through.



Grinding and random encounters are the true bane of the JRPG. This devious duo is why the game is artificially lengthened, and why developers justify cheap tactics on bosses. If you are truly the hero of the ages, what are you doing roaming the forest killing wolves and bats? Shouldn’t you be chasing down the head of Evil MegaCorporation or looking for the sword of the Dragon Gods or something? The feeling of working through a long, trying dungeon and running out of potions only to realize that you would have to fight 100 battles to retreat and that you will lose to the overpowered boss ahead of you is the single most harrowing experience that a gamer can experience. The helplessness is overwhelming, and there is nothing but shame and anger when you load up that save from an hour ago.

And you thought you didn’t need that goddamned tent.