Review
Release Date: 10.20.1998
Platform:
PlayStationDeveloper:
Square Co., Ltd.Publisher:
Square Electronic ArtsReviewed by
Christian Kontul on 4.28.2003
| Review Rating: 9/10 | User Rating: 8.53/10 |
Most people who have played Square's epic 1998 role-playing game, Xenogears, are of one of two frames of mind.
They either love Xenogears ...
... Or they hate Xenogears.
There's no middle ground when it comes to this RPG. Why? Most likely, it's because Xenogears is a massive undertaking, a game with a provocative story that questions the basis of Western belief, while, at the same time, struggling to be what it essentially is: a game. Think that's confusing? You have no idea.
Trying to summarize Xenogears's story is like attempting to start a fire by sticking a finger up your butt. No matter how hard you try, it just isn't going to happen. The game has a heavy anime influence with tons of allusions to the Bible. In fact, Xenogears goes as far as questioning the existence of God. That's only one of the touchy subjects, if perhaps the most controversial, but Xenogears is filled with so many thought-provoking ideas that there were questions as to whether it should be brought to North America at all. Rumor had it that even if Square translated it, Xenogears's content would have to be overhauled to suit Westerners. All hearsay is inconsequential now, since Xenogears did hit with only one small change. But is the game worth 60 hours of your life?
It depends. If you play RPGs for the story and little else, Xenogears will likely fulfill you like no other game can. If, though, you play RPGs because they are, in fact, games, Xenogears will make you tear your skin off. Decisions, decisions...
The only home Fei Fong Wong has ever known is the tiny village of Lahan, on the border between Aveh and Kislev. The two countries are fighting for control of their continent, and they do so with technology they find buried in ruins; specifically, gears, huge humanoid robots with the ability to level cities. In Lahan, the fight is nothing more than a fireside tale since its inhabitants are so far removed from the rest of the world. In fact, the biggest news is the wedding of Alice and Tim, childhood friends of Fei, who are scheduled to get married soon after Xenogears begins. Even though the trio is very close, they haven't known each other since birth or soon after. Several years earlier, a mysterious cloaked man left a bloody young Fei with the mayor of Lahan, asking only that he protect the boy and telling him less. Since, besides cultivating a friendship with Alice and Tim, Fei has grown into a fine young man, a master of the martial arts and a painter. His life is peaceful. Nothing bad happens in Lahan, with the exception of poor crop turnouts. Does it really matter that he can't remember his past?
He's going to find out. The night before the wedding, a group of gears is shot down in the heart of Lahan. It seems that a mysterious group of soldiers have stolen a new type of gear recently uncovered in Kislev. That country is none too pleased and sends a squadron of mechs in pursuit. The village turns into a warzone. In the wake of the destruction, after seeing buildings topple and people he knows hurt or killed, Fei spots an empty gear. Not knowing why, he's compelled to enter the weapon and drive off the invaders. But he's never piloted before in his life. He shouldn't stand a chance against trained professionals. These thought are forgotten as the cockpit closes. He has only to fight, to kill, to destroy. The man named Fei Fong Wong is gone.
Fei awakens the next day to a group of homeless villagers and the gear he piloted. By attempting to protect the village, he ended up demolishing it. The people, not knowing who or what this person standing before them is, demand that he leaves. Fei willingly does so. The day before, he had life figured out. Now, he has no idea who he is. How can he pilot a gear? What is this gear and why is it so special? What do these violent memories coming from the dark corners of his mind mean?
To put things in perspective on how ridiculous the story is, consider that this synopsis amounts to a half an hour of an approximately 50-hour game; that's 30 minutes out of 3,000. Xenogears is neither the only nor the first game to exceed that length, but it might be the RPG with the most text per time. It starts out fast with an intriguing mystery that will probably hook most players from the very beginning. The thing is, because Xenogears is filled with so many characters and subplots, players may be left scratching their heads even when the credits are rolling. That's a bit of an exaggeration; Xenogears does a good job of tying up loose ends. But for the first several hours, most people will be completely in the dark, despite lengthy scenes that develop the plot. More questions are posed than answered, but it never becomes a hindrance. The story is so well crafted and interesting that it makes you feel like you have to keep playing to see what happens; that's a characteristic of only the very best tales. And when the ending is playing out, it's likely that you'll start over to catch some of the stuff you missed in the first playthrough. Or the fifth playthrough. Or the tenth.
Chances are, no matter how many times you restart, you'll notice something different or new. Xenogears is packed with so much detail, for its world, its history, and its people, that no one could possibly absorb everything with just one game. Its actually the fifth part in a six-episode arc; that explains the loads of information. But Xenogears doesn't use that as a crutch. The developers didn't script the game with the intention of making prologues or a sequel, and as such most of the holes get plugged up; most, but not all. With a game as big as this, there's bound to be a couple mistakes. They're nothing obvious, and most people won't notice them unless they're very familiar with the story … and they contemplate it a lot.
In spite of these quirks, and the fact that it “borrows” ideas from every entertainment medium known to man, Xenogears has one of the most compelling, if not the most compelling, narrative in any videogame. It just works, and it clicks with the player on so many levels. It manages to make stuff that most people consider boring into interesting facts that you'll look up on your own, just to see what motivated the developers.
What's a great story without a worthy cast of characters? Nonexistent, that's what. Xenogears has a set of heroes and villains that are unmatched by other games. There are quite a few important people, but they all have some history and motivating factors for what they do. A handful of playable characters get much more development than a majority of the cast, including other party members, and it’s really well done. The villains steal the show, though. Xenogears blurs white and black to infinite shades of gray, and the enemies aren't simply just “bad guys.” They're menacing and pitiable at the same time. The character designs, which are larger than life, with bright colors and great costumes, are perfect.
So is the soundtrack, which is from music god Yasunori Mitsuda. Known for his work in the Chrono series, Mitsuda turns in his very best for Xenogears. The music takes an already incredible saga to orgasmic levels. The emotion some of the songs will elicit may surprise even the most apathetic of gamers. Even dungeon filler is better than most games’ important themes and some songs, like “Those Who Bare Fangs at God” or “Knight of Fire,” are the best ever composed for a videogame.
So how could anyone possibly hate Xenogears? It has a fantastic plot, cool characters, and a superb soundtrack. It's obvious that Square had big plans for this game; a lot of thought went into its creation. With the plot and sound as polished as they are, everything else has to be bearable, at the very least. At least...
After playing Xenogears for an extended period, it's apparent that the creators may have set their sights a little too high. Because so much time and effort was invested on certain parts, others have gotten the short end of the stick. In fact, a lot of the game has a rushed feel to it that belies the quality of its narrative and musical score. A majority of the second disc has nothing more than characters sitting in a chair, revealing the story through monologues. Much like the rest of Xenogears, gamers either love or hate the latter half; it's definitely a rush job ending, but the second CD also has a stylish element that meshes well the rest of the game.
But hurried development isn't the only problem with Xenogears; it isn't even the biggest problem, though most games that are released before being properly finished are normally dead before they even land on retail shelves. Instead, a title that benefits from expert design in a couple categories falters miserably when it comes to game design. It's worth noting that Xenogears does not feature bad gameplay; the core concepts are actually fairly solid, and have been adopted by several games since. However, a few decisions made during development have resulted in a game that can be, at times, downright maddening.
Xenogears suffers from a pair of big flaws: poor balance and an insanely high encounter rate. Individually, these problems have the potential to make any RPG a hassle, but combined they become annoyances that impatient gamers (and some patient ones) won't be able to ignore. Each of the game's two battle systems stems from mechanics based around Ability Points (AP), points that are rationed out for each character's attacks. Fights take place either on foot, with martial arts and weapons, or in gears. Both types make use of bars for each party member, similar to the Active Time meter in the Final Fantasy series, to determine who attacks when.
It all sounds simple and fun enough, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired. The above description makes the party and gear battles sound the same, but they aren't; the gear battles are watered down. On top of that, the smaller scale fights turn into nothing more than pushing certain combinations of buttons.
Each character has a trio of attacks: weak medium, and fierce, worth one, two, or three AP respectively. Each one corresponds to a particular button, and, when attacking, the player can create combos dependent on the member's Ability Point total. There are also programmed combos, called Deathblows, that have to be learned by playing around with various combinations. Deathblows do way more damage than random creations, though, and the player will often fall into the habit of using them ... over and over and over again. Characters also have secondary skills (magic, essentially) that are completely worthless. Unless enemies are immune to physical attacks, you won't find yourself using them often since they're weak. Casting a spell essentially wastes a turn. There is one caveat to the party battles: it's possible for players to save AP by not using it all one turn, then unleashing attacks made up of a string of Deathblows. Combo-ing combos! Silly rabbit...
The more common of Xenogears's two battle systems has some strong ideas but ends up more frustrating than enjoyable. Enemy encounters are way, way too frequent and they almost always end with the player repeatedly entering the most powerful Deathblows ... over and over and over again. The gear battles aren't as common, but they're just as cumbersome. Instead of using AP, each mech burns "fuel" every round based on its actions. A gear has the same attacks as a person, but they use 10, 20, or 30 units of fuel; it's the same idea. Unlike fights that involve the party members, gears can only pull off more powerful attacks after they store up enough energy. This means that for one, two, or three turns, players will be using single button strikes so they can unleash combos of differing strength. As a result, gear battles run at a slower pace than the alternative. However, there are a few concepts that force the player to develop more thoughtful strategies than simply "wait and attack, wait and attack, etc.," and they, in a couple instances, often add a frenetic element that contradicts the system's irritating nature. Most important, perhaps, is that fuel supplies are limited. If you're forced to go through a cave in your gear, because it would be otherwise unnavigable, you'll have to conserve your precious fluids so you're not left stranded. During battles, it's possible to remain inactive to regain fuel, or to charge your gear so it's faster and more powerful but consumes more. Figuring out when to conserve and when to haul ass is essential, because some of the situations have you up against near impossible odds. These are, by far, the best moments when it comes to playing Xenogears, and you'll likely remember them for a long time; if you can stand the game enough to make it to them.
The battles aren't the only thing the player has to fight with (pun intended). The game engine itself is actually rather sloppy, with bad control being just one of the characteristics; not while fighting, but during exploration. Unlike some other traditional RPGs, Xenogears tries to incorporate action elements in cities and dungeons, with characters being able to jump or swing from certain objects. While the camera is typically capable of 360 degrees of rotation, similar to that in Game Arts's Grandia series, there are some sections that prohibit full movement, thus making an otherwise easy jump precarious because of limited perspective. Leaping and missing often puts players back at the beginning of an area, to fight more and to jump more. Ah, but what about when circumstances allow an adequate view for the action? You still have to fear for you life, because, in a bizarre twist, the game has a loading problem that allows the player to control the heroes even after Xenogears is trying to enter battle mode. Even though people can still run in a certain direction, they can't jump; imagine, if you will, running towards a cliff with the intent of vaulting it, only to find that Fei didn't vault and you're nestled firmly at the bottom. Whoops.
The graphics, uncharacteristically, aren't very attractive. Square is known for their impressive visual work, particularly for epic role-playing games, but Xenogears just doesn't cut the mustard. Environments are rendered in 3D with characters as 2D sprites. The game is lucky to have its creative architecture, because the unique places that fill Xenogears's world still look good, despite muddy textures and low-polygon structures. Unfortunately, they suffer from tremendous slowdown, which frequently results in control mishaps. The sprites animate beautifully, but they look filthy when the camera zooms in; pixillation blurs most of their exotic features. Party battles look nice, with more great animation, as do gear fights. The big mechs, which are made up completely of polygons, don't move as smoothly as their pilots appear as clumsy as they play. The brightest spot comes in the form of Xenogears's full motion video, which combines animation with computer-generation. The introduction and ending must be seen.
Xenogears takes the term "mixed bag" to the extreme. It provides one of the most absorbing and passionate stories in any videogame, but, at the same time, it's a game that plays like an absolute pile. In the end, it comes down to this: you have to give Xenogears a try. It'll take a lot of effort and sufferance, but it's more than worth it. The world of Xenogears is worth living in, its people are worth meeting. It will test your patience, but remember: God sees patience as a virtue.
