There would never be another game like Kingdom Hearts II. This became my conviction after the third flagship instalment in the series broke my heart into a thousand pieces by being a slapdash, watered-down slog, bringing the franchise’s infamously labyrinthine story arc to an underwhelming end with an apathetic death rattle. Kingdom Hearts III was a harsh reminder that no level of anticipation could have countered the sad reality we were living in: gaming had reached a point at which the increasing budgets and development times required to be able to play in the big leagues had made it impossible for any game to still be as uncompromisingly maximalist as its legendary lavish predecessor.
Final Fantasy XVI confirmed that belief, being once again a game that — despite being infinitely more narratively satisfying and fun to play than Kingdom Hearts III — once again felt compromised, as if any shred of indulgence had been laboriously filed off, leading to the overall experience feeling oddly empty in spite of the game’s strong vision and carefully considered world-building. As happy as I was that Square-Enix managed to get their shit together and just put a game out there without a literal decade of incompetent dithering, there was still something that made me feel as if the company’s heyday was well and truly over.
Even the first Final Fantasy VII Remake, exuberant as it may have been, still felt like “just a game” — a game that managed to pull off what it wanted to be excellently, but still, like all other games, had to choose what it wanted to be.
Rebirth, on the other hand, goes above and beyond such pragmatism, to a point where it feels like a utopia come to fruition, a game so breathtakingly gratifying it genuinely feels like the next step in creating a sense of adventure, of immersion and of epic scale. It takes everything that made Remake a triumph — the excellent combat, the flawlessly updated characterization, the pitch-perfect balance between melodrama and self-awareness, and the uncompromising, baroque presentation — and cranks it up to eleven, nay, twelve.
This is a game that spoils you, turning “giving players what they want before they even know they want it” into an art form, firing at all cylinders at all time so that not a single point in its 100-hour playtime you feel as if reality is creeping in. The mask never slips. Every single cog in this meticulously crafted clockwork has been polished to be as immaculate as it could realistically be, from the engaging and rewarding level design and well-considered combat encounters to mini-games you can easily lose entire days on. It doesn’t feel like a game made in this reality, where time and money and passion are limited resources, where deadlines exist and demands need to be met. Final Fantasy VII Rebirth feels like the divine ideal of a video game.
Even the bits of it I didn’t enjoy confirm this overall sentiment. Baffling and counter-intuitive as the design of some combat encounters may be — looking at you, “Biological Intel: Head Case” — there is still a clear intent behind the choices that were made. The same goes for the mini-games, which are simply so varied and elaborate there’s a lifelong favourite in there for everyone, even if that means players will also inevitably be subjected to some activities that will make them want to throw their controller through the screen. Even though I didn’t exactly vibe with babysitting mischievous moogles, playing discount League of Legends with something called a “Robochad” or fighting a boss who decides to kill you instantly if you block too many of his attacks, I could still see someone else enjoying every bit of it, and perhaps even more tellingly, the care and consideration that went into designing these experiences.
Yet what is perhaps most striking about Rebirth is its narrative confidence and the ease with which the narrative focus on both fighting and accepting inevitability, and the deeply loveable, strongly developed characters manage to stick with you. If the original Final Fantasy VII is an art collection of immeasurable value, Rebirth is the museum built from the ground up to give each piece the optimal opportunity to strut its stuff. There are changes, yes, but as with Remake, the newly added meta-narrative augments the rock-solid foundation of the original rather than derailing and distorting it. This is the same timeless tale, but with another layer on top, granting this retelling the opportunity to reflect on the original’s legacy without becoming overly self-referential and insular.
It’s unfortunate, then, that instead of luxuriating in the joy of being proven wrong, I now feel saddled not with hope, but with despair1. There will never be another game like Final Fantasy VII Rebirth. Due to the ostensibly justifiable, but deeply unwise decision to develop this game exclusively for the Playstation 5, the console with no games, Rebirth has failed to meet Square Enix’s sales expectations by a considerable margin, and given the constant looming threat of its executives turning the company into a cynical content mill — dreaming out loud about the potential profits of selling hot air generated on the blockchain or by a language learning model — the sentiment that every actual game Square actually releases is a miracle against all odds remains incredibly strong.
Furthermore, since the game’s release, the entertainment industry has only continued its rapid advancement towards a status quo in which its products are required to operate on the same level as a Fortnite, a Taylor Swift or a Marvel Cinematic Universe, lest their right to exist is forfeit. As a result, I am terrified the next and final part of the Final Fantasy VII remake project is likely to be a compromise, or — like Kingdom Hearts III — even an afterthought. If so, it will break my heart into a thousand all pieces over again.
- Why am I like this? When did I become unable to see a victory as anything other than the last hurrah of a happiness in its dying throes, not just in gaming, but in politics and personal matters as well?
Retroversy 
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