Something that's likely lost on a generation of gamers who have grown up with consistent international releases of Final Fantasy games is just how wonky their releases were in coming over to North America. Post-VII, basically every game in the series has been the same in Japan as it has been here (minus the translation aspect, obviously), but prior to that, North America only saw three Final Fantasy games, and one of them, Final Fantasy IV, saw numerous changes in terms of difficulty in addition to its misleading numbering (coming out as Final Fantasy II here). This not only meant that North America was missing out on Final Fantasies II, III and V, but that the ones we were getting were a very different beast than their Super Famicom counterparts.
Now, of course, gamers have their choice of version when it comes to Final Fantasy games. For the purposes of this review, I could have played an emulated fan translation of Final Fantasy IV, a Virtual Console Final Fantasy II release, or the DS remake. I chose the remake simply because I thought it would represent the most comprehensive "vision" for the game. Now, there were a few issues that I came across specific to the DS version – the charming Super Famicom sprites have been replaced by the "sexy mannequin" style of post-VIII Final Fantasies, and its other issue, well, is ungodly difficulty.
There's a major problem with traditional JRPGs that has to be accounted for whenever one decides to play one, and that's that "experience" is a quantified statistic instead of a qualitative one – that is, your characters improve in statistics more-or-less independently of your increase in skill. Sure, you have to formulate a strategy (which almost always has to be taken from a strategy guide, unless you're a masochist) and you have to have some dexterity to be able to navigate the menus effectively, but it's not as if you're ever in direct control – rather, you have to take on a sort of taskmaster role.
This is a convention that I'm comfortable with. It may not be good game design but it's functional, and for someone like myself who's really not that good at games, it's comforting – put your trust in the statistical systems of the game and everything will turn out OK. But there's a problem, and it's a problem that's endemic to old-school JRPGs, which is the necessity of level grinding. Later installments in the Final Fantasy series would smooth this out, making the statistic systems more accurately reflect your natural progression through the story, but it's a thing that I expected going into Final Fantasy IV – after all, I had played a bit of Final Fantasy II earlier in 2010 and kind of knew what to expect.
Except I didn't.
There comes a point, and admittedly it's very late in the game, where Final Fantasy IV stops being challenging but rewarding, and just starts being obstinate. At this point, the statistic systems are completely out of whack – you're not collecting nearly enough experience points to overcome the fearsome beasts at the end of the game, making level grinding something out of the question. The problem is that the game will occasionally see fit to throw it's "special type" battles at you around every corner – your characters could be "surprised" (meaning your battle-time doesn't start for a couple of seconds, giving the enemy a few seconds to throw attacks relentlessly, probably killing your team) or "back attacked", and if you're facing the wrong enemy, it's game over. This made me want to pull my hair out because it was ultimately so random and so much luck was required. I tried to put on my game critic cap, thinking, "maybe this is an accurate reflection of the hopelessness of this situation, or maybe it's teaching me a lesson about death," but then I just got frustrated.
That's a little unfortunate, because for those moments, it made me lose sight of just how clearly ahead of its time and influential Final Fantasy IV must have seemed. For one, Square Enix could definitely learn some lessons from IV's very mature and well-told narrative. It ultimately doesn't seem very Final Fantasy-like at all, considering how straightforward it is, but it's that very nature that makes it so effective. The approach here is much more in line with classic literature than action films or anime or god-knows-what from the more recent installments, as the game seeks to explore the themes of redemption and sacrifice throughout the length of its playtime. (of course, the game still has a relatively juvenile writing style, but this has to be accepted when dealing not only with Final Fantasy games but, um, games in general, a few exceptions aside)
The most obviously redeemed character is Cecil, who moves from being a murderous, dark knight (with a conscience, as it turns out) to a righteous crusader seeking to legitimately better himself. But redemption isn't limited only to Cecil – Kain, his comrade, and even the main villain, Golbez, all find some manner of redemption throughout the playtime, and it's actually handled quite effectively – doubly so if you consider that this was all being done with tiny sprites in the original version.
The theme of sacrifice is also tied into the theme of redemption, with numerous characters – think Polom and Porom, or Yang, or Cid – seemingly sacrificing their lives for a greater good and for the good of Cecil's personal redemption. This might make these characters ultimately kind of disposable – and they are, let's be clear (it was a very early 16-bit game, after all) – but the game's approach to death and heroism is handled with a minimum of melodrama, making it simply a fact of its existence. This makes the game a more traditionally "epic" experience than the game's more character-centric later installments, but everything coalesces beautifully because of director Hironobu Sakaguchi's focus on humans rather than flashy shit.
This might also be the Final Fantasy that feels the most like a real journey. That's not just because every battle has a life-or-death feeling to it, but because the game sends you all over its map, then into it (in the underworld), then to the moon, with each area feeling unique and connected to the plot. The cold, foreboding atmosphere of the Moon might be the best, but the game's many caverns and open plains are quite engaging as well. It couldn't hope to match the standard set by Final Fantasy VI in this regard, but considering its release in 1991, it was quite the accomplishment.
The best part of Final Fantasy IV, then, is its story and characters (even as they're trying to, um, get some crystals or something) and TOTALLY BALLER MUSIC, but its influential battle system can't be ignored. While it doesn't really "solve" the problem of the turn-based, menu-based battle system, it does inject some much needed immediacy to it. No longer were battles to be static, turn-taking affairs; instead, time became an integral part of the proceedings. I really do think that the battles and the enemies you face and such are a kind of "filler" in almost any Final Fantasy game – they kind of stand between you and the story most of the time, and if the story sucks, then all you're left with is obscurantist strategizing and a lot of menu navigation. But that's not really been the case in the Final Fantasies I've played. Instead, battles become tense affairs that are ultimately pretty satisfying despite the lack of true interaction (though this brings up the question of what does constitute interaction in any case). I can't help but treat them with a kind of "functionalist" attitude, but at least they're functional.
If it weren't for those damned impossible battles that required far too much swearing and threats to break my DS, Final Fantasy IV would probably look pretty damned good in my eyes. Maybe I should have played Final Fantasy II after all (spoony bards and everything).
*Side note: doesn't it seem like the "toned down" difficulty of old Japanese games in North America just feels more… right? Maybe that's just my shitty gaming skills, or maybe that's ethnocentrism.