There are Final Fantasy fans, and then there are Final Fantasy fanatics.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk about Final Fantasy III. The third entry in the series was released in 1990 in Japan on the Famicom. While it was well-received in its homeland, its massive size combined with the Super Nintendo looming on the horizon meant the original game would never make the hop over the Pacific. Over 16 years later (the largest localization gap for any Final Fantasy game), North America finally saw a version of the game, although heavily updated from the original 8-bit release. Prior to this, fan-translated (technically illegal) rips of the game were the only hope for English speakers to experience a missing link in the series. And when the remake finally landed, I, like a quintessential RPG hipster -- equipped with a fingerprint-smeared Nintendo DS and NES emulator instead of a six-string and six-pack of PBR -- sauntered through my pack of friends chanting, “Oh, I played that before it had named characters.”
Ah yes, those characters -- those were what drew me in. The Onion Knights (or Onion Kids, depending on your translation) are the strangest leading characters in the series, if not in the entire jRPG genre. We’re never filled in on what in the world an “Onion Knight” is (though, I always like to think George R.R. Martin took his inspiration here), and the characters themselves are blank slates. While that sounds like a relic that hasn’t aged well, it’s also charming in its own way. The remake gave the kids names and personalities, but when I first booted up that fan-translated ROM a few years after Final Fantasy VII had brought the series into the mainstream, the sight of those odd, genderless youths with funny hats drew me in just as quickly as booming music and CG visuals ever could.
Those quirky kids held my interest long enough for the gameplay to really kick in. The job system, now a staple of the series, is Final Fantasy III’s most visible innovation. To some, “innovation” might seem a strong word. After all, Dragon Quest III used a similar class-switching paradigm years earlier, and static classes have been used in games for years, including the original Final Fantasy. Heck, we could probably trace the original idea back to chess. But Final Fantasy III’s use felt different, deeper, and it inspired the growth systems of Final Fantasy V, XI, Tactics, and even games outside the series.
What makes FFIII diverge from previous class-based role-playing games? In my opinion, it’s simply diversity of the classes. Dragon Warrior III hewed pretty closely to the same classes seen in the original Final Fantasy, Dungeons and Dragons and pretty much every fantasy role-playing game, be they computer or pen-and-paper. Fighter. Cleric. Wizard. Along with a couple of silly classes that are more about solving some specific puzzles rather than battle. This classic combination is pragmatic, sure, but it reduces the combat decision tree essentially to “should I attack, heal or fireball?”
Final Fantasy III significantly expands this. Why have a generic Fighter when you can have a Dragoon, a mashup of a dragon hunter and 17th century European mounted infantry? Why summon banal lightning bolts and shards of ice when you can strap on your pointy Summoner cap and call down Bahamut, the God of Eidolons himself?
Those are just two of now-defining classes in the series that Final Fantasy III created; others include Geomancer, Scholar, and Dark Knight. And while those classes add some much-needed flavor, they also add strategic value in the same way the original game’s Red Mage played the jack of all trades, master of none role. Dragoons trade the ability to take heavy damage for the ability to jump out of harm’s way and dodge all of it. A Scholar will key in on an enemy’s weakness (invaluable before the age of GameFAQs), while the Geomancer sacrifices consistency and choice in attacks for an unlimited casting pool. To be sure, some of these classes are better than others, and in the end, you’re best served by beefing up a quartet of overpowered Sages and Ninjas. The idea of class balance came much later; most of Final Fantasy III’s classes were designed for use in a specific dungeon or two. But still, just the fact that a myriad of class options existed at all was a big step forward for the genre.
Of course, gameplay is only one aspect of a successful Final Fantasy game. Story and characters are just as important. In this, the game admittedly feels dated. The story is told mostly through the supporting characters, your motivation for proceeding is never really more than “save the world,” and the setting simply seems stagnant. The plot, unfortunately, does not have the same gut-wrenching emotion of Cloud sending Aeris to her watery grave, or Squall wrapping his arms around Rinoa in the frozen black emptiness of outer space. The story here is much more simple: evil sorcerer Xande threatens to upset balance of light and darkness by seeking immortality. A group of light warriors, aided by Xande’s former allies, Unei and Doga, gather the plot coupons necessary to find him, kill him and push back the darkness. Roll credits.
But even with the simplistic series of events, there are plenty of memorable story elements. The revelation that the respectably-sized continent where the game begins is actually a tiny portion of the entire world, floating above the ancient lands below. The village of the gnomes, which requires the player to shrink their characters to enter. Uncovering the Invincible, a massive airship fully equipped with a bed, shops and storage (a pretty damned cool feature for the time). And the old sage Doga and his moogles -- the first appearance of the furry little winged creatures.
|The unreleased Wonderswan Color port|
And that’s as good a transition as any into my absolute favorite part of Final Fantasy III. The music. My God. Even if you don’t play the game, you owe it to yourself to listen to the soundtrack. And make it the original soundtrack, not the DS port. There’s nothing wrong with the port, but it takes listening to the 8-bit original to appreciate how much work and originality was produced from so small a palette as the Famicom’s sound chip was. I can truly say, without exaggeration, that it’s some of Uematsu’s best work. He pushes the Famicom to its limit and squeezes out every bit of musical power and variation it has to offer.
The battle theme is simply the best standard Final Fantasy battle music there is, no question (all right, all right, Blinded By Light from Final Fantasy XIII comes pretty close). Two separate airship themes, both fantastic. Some of the most oft-remixed tunes of the series in the forms of Elia Maiden of Water, the theme for one of the game’s supporting characters, Tozas, the spritely theme of the gnomish village, and the solemn, Asian-inspired overworld theme, Eternal Wind. Several renditions of these songs can be found on official albums and from amateur mixers, but my favorite versions happen to be vocal mixes sung by Risa Ohki on the Pray and Love Will Grow albums.
All that, and I haven’t even mentioned my favorite song yet. Not just my favorite from the game’s many admirable tracks, but my favorite song from the entire series. Entitled Forbidden Land, it’s the song that plays in Eureka, the game’s optional dungeon. I forgive you if you haven’t heard it. To my knowledge, it’s never been remixed on any of the thousands (exaggeration, but only barely) of Final Fantasy remix albums, nor is there any representation in the fan remix community (a single Japanese remixer has tackled the song on YouTube). I’ll give you a second to go dig up the tune. Finished? Cool.
I remember entering Eureka and literally sitting back in my chair to listen to the music. Even in the best games, that’s an exceedingly rare reaction for me these days. I was blown away by the epic creepiness, the irresistibly catchy melody, the spooky minor chords and the key changing to a brief, hopeful major bar before falling back into dejection. I allowed the song to loop once, twice, and halfway into a third time before taking a step forward and promptly getting slaughtered by Eureka’s beefy inhabitants. Oh well. A chance to spend more time there.
|Job concept art from the DS version|
Now Final Fantasy III has been remade and ported to multiple devices, which means the younger generation can appreciate the allusions somewhat effortlessly. Back in my day (he said, tapping his cane on the tile) we had to take the word of a friend-of-a-friend who had supposedly lived in Japan for a few years. Today, FFIII is playable on the DS, PSP, mobile phones, and it’s even being held up as a launch title for the recently-Kickstarted OUYA console. From unreleased and all-but-forgotten to a flagship title in just a few years. Not bad.
I can’t claim that Final Fantasy III is the best game in the series; that would be somewhat disingenuous. I can claim that it did a whole lot of work in shaping the series that we know today. Most of us will name Final Fantasy IV, VI or VII as our introductions to the series, and I’m in the same boat. But Final Fantasy III was the first game that really made me sit up and examine the series as a whole. It was the first game that made me think about the themes, art styles, musical motifs and game design decisions that make Final Fantasy more than just a bunch of games marketed together. It was the game that made me realize the entire series, with all its strengths, faults, evolutions and tropes, is something intensely unique.
The later games made me a fan. But Final Fantasy III made me a fanatic.
The later games made me a fan. But Final Fantasy III made me a fanatic.