Bergsonian Critique

It appears it’s rather easy to criticize (or even ridicule) the chief titles of Final Fantasy games these days, considering that the release date of Final Fantasy XIII is creeping closer now. And of course, the easiest approach to do just that is by nitpicking the games’ plot and characterization, which might allude to a sense of criticism when, in actuality, it’s a mere trivia comprised of poor judgment and attention to cheap laughs (1UP’s childish “Top 5 Most Irritating RPG Protagonists” is an excellent contender). That doesn’t mean Final Fantasy games are exempted from criticism, but seldom have I ever read a practical critique of the games’ narrative and characters that not only is well-reasoned and valid but at least convincing.

Final Fantasy VIII also seems to be the favorite title among Final Fantasy critics (though the word “critics” might elevate their merit than necessary). Few of their assessments are legit but most of them are crudely vague. Saying the characters are “annoying”, or the plot is “awful”, or the gameplay is “broken” without giving any elaborative examples, or at least semi-extensive clarifications, doesn’t indicant anything evident on their conclusion. Of course, it is always the main character that gets the short end of the stick, and in this case, it’s always Squall Leonhart, the gunblade-wielding protagonist.

Quite the opposite, Squall, personally, is one of the most tenderly written leading characters I’ve ever encountered in an RPG. His lone wolf persona is nicely justified in his arc (more on that that later) and Kazushige Nojima, the writer of Final Fantasy VIII, made sure to disclose enough credentials for him to be as persuasively detached and compassionless toward the rest of his teammates, specially in the initial stages of the story. A specific plot device among many in Nojima’s design in Final Fantasy VIII is the prospect to perceive Squall’s inner thoughts and contemplations, which cleverly exposes and flourishes his character to the player than he candidly allows. Yet, Squall isn’t resistant to influence; indeed, he inevitably and willingly becomes to accept his comrades, confess his love to Rinoa, and assume his role as the student leader of the military school of Balamb Garden more earnestly. The following paragraphs will succinctly particularize this transformation by examining Squall’s character progression in the plot. In other words, spoilers are abundant.

Rinoa: Don’t you ever worry about or even think about the well being of your comrades?

Squall: (I don’t believe in relying on others.)

Rinoa: Don’t you understand?

Squall:( . . . Whatever.)

Squall’s upbringing isn’t particularly extraordinary, and also growing up as an orphan isn’t exactly a narrative innovation when it comes to a JRPG. While the orphanage is set as a significant plot twist in the game, Squall’s self-reliance and impassiveness from the rest of his comrades are a progeny of something else. The forced abandonment by his sister figure in the orphanage – in which Squall usually refers to as “Big Sis” as seen in his flashbacks – and the gradual departure of his childhood companions leave him in a discouraging, helpless condition. His relentless stance to not be swayed by other people’s influences is resultant of his past, emotional pain, which causes him to be expressively detached and highly cynical; basically, he becomes an introverted youth who wishes to go through life without any emotional dependencies so he wouldn’t have to suffer the anguish of being left again. This serves the basis of his solitary and somewhat asocial nature throughout the earlier sections of the game.

Nevertheless, Squall didn’t abandon life as much as life has abandoned him. His preference to be trained by the ways of the gunblade – supposedly a difficult swordsmanship to master – is evident that he still strives to be noticed and recognized among his peers. Even his mutual rivalry with Seifer – another gunblade wilder – is something that he cherishes the most. He even sees himself in Seifer despite his harassment and mockery to his comrades and mentors, a defense mechanism that is quite the opposite from Squall’s reticent attitude. Evidently, after the grueling mission in Dollet, which results Squall’s graduation as a member of SeeD among others, the flunked Seifer is seen applauding for Squall’s success, retaining a new profound respect for his rival. Yet, Seifer irresponsibly decides to ascend to higher ranks on his own method, in which later he allies himself with Balamb Garden’s most threatening adversary to date, Sorceress Edea, and consequently proclaiming the title of the sorceress’s knight.

Squall: (I liked him . . . wasn’t really a bad guy . . . He was one of us.)

(Seifer . . . You’ve just become just a memory.)

(Will they . . . Will they talk about me this way if I die, too?)

(Squall was this and that. Using past tense, saying whatever they want?)

(So this is what death is all about . . .) (. . . Not for me.) (I won’t have it!!!)

Even after Seifer’s betrayal to the Garden and his schoolmates, Squall still feels an underlying camaraderie for him, and mourns him in his own way when he believes Seifer to have been executed after an attempted kidnapping of Galbadian President, Vinzer Deling. This unexpectedly triggers Squall’s most terrifying trepidation: to be forgotten from people’s memories before he gets to achieve something meaningful; an aspiration that’s fervently endeavored among teenagers. It is no wonder then, that Time is one of the game’s major themes in the narrative, as even Ultimecia, the game’s true villainess, sought “Time Compression” to merge all eras and eradicate existence and all life except for hers.

Yet, Squall remains a considerate person and, despite his isolationism, he still makes sure to not callously offend any of his teammates’ feelings. Certainly, even after the newly aquatinted Irvine chocks under pressure during the assassination mission of the sorceress, Squall is quickly to pacify Irvine’s lack of confidence and relieves him from his anxiety by him taking out the sorceress instead. His unwillingness is situated in his disinterest to give in to other people’s whims and guidance, as it is evident when he converses to Quistis, his one-year older instructor, and several times with Rinoa, his eventual love interest. Of course, Squall later learns that his refusal to accept people’s remarks doesn’t change the fact that others still seek his leadership, despite his strong aversion to the idea.

It is inevitable, however, that Squall will eventually begin to accept his directive role in the Garden, listen to the suggestions made by his fellow teammates, and exhibit his attentive concern and admiration to his military school and its student. This is seen during “the Battle of the Gardens”, a fierce clash between the SeeDs and the Galbadian Army under the command of the possessed, Sorceress Edea. Then, just before he leaves to save his damsel in distress, Squall, uncharacteristically of him, gives a riveting and encouraging monologue to the students of Balamb Garden over the P.A. system:

“Everybody. This is Squall. How’s everyone doing? You’re all probably too tired to even stand up after all the fighting. But I want everyone to listen to me . . . We still have a chance to win, and I need your help . . . this battle is Garden’s destiny and also our destiny. It’s a grueling battle and I’m sure you guys are all exhausted. But I don’t want to have any regrets. I don’t want anyone to look back and regret this day. So just this once, I want you guys to give everything you’ve got! For yourselves and for me!”

Yet, Squall’s next undertaking is proven to be the most emotionally challenging, when Rinoa becomes comatose and bed-ridden due to Ultimecia’s tyrannical possession of her body. Suddenly stricken by grief, Squall begins to lament his powerless capability to save her. His remark, “You were so full of life . . . I want to hear your voice” when he checks up on her at the infirmary alludes that he has been suppressing his loving emotion all along, or perhaps, he begins to love her now that she’s seemingly fading away. It’s true, one never truly appreciates what he has until it’s gone, and Squall learns this moral the hard way.

Needless to say, Squall’s resolve is proven to be unwavering. After learning the whereabouts of Ellone, the woman who supposedly is capable of saving Rinoa from her slumber, Squall opts to go alone to search for her while carrying his beloved on his back. In one of the game’s most memorable scenes, Squall feels safely uninhibited with Rinoa unconscious on his back; he sets her down and begins to divulge his concealed feelings to her, and his justification on why he continually distances himself from everybody else:

“I worry too much about what others think of me. I hate that side of me . . . That’s why I didn’t want anyone to get to know me. I wanted to hide that side of myself. I hate it. Squall is an unfriendly, introverted guy. It made it easy for me when people perceived me that way. That’s a secret between you and me. Got that?”

Similarly to Seifer, – and after a series of trials and tribulations – Squall eventually vows with silent resolution to become Rinoa’s knight, and they both promise to meet in Edea’s Orphanage case they should ever be parted. From there on, he’s no longer seen and depicted as an unemotional and confused adolescent. Thus, and much more, Squall Leonhart.

Evidently, Squall’s intimate growth and openness to his friends pay him off greatly in the end, particularly after he defeats Ultimecia and ceases her diabolical ambitions once and for all, which plunges him back in time to the orphanage, where not only he witnesses his own self as a boy, but also is able to implant the ideas of SeeD and Garden to Edea, the matron of him and the rest of his orphaned companions. Squall’s aforementioned fear of being forgotten is ultimately put to rest when Rinoa and the rest of the team bring him back from Ultimecia’s time compression by remembering in his existence and his valued worth to their memories.

Really, has there ever an allegorical story of coming-of-age and overreaching resolves of the youth as artful and grand as seen in Final Fantasy VIII? Has there ever been an RPG character as persuasive and conspicuous as Squall Leonhart? One really cannot help but to be confused by the tendency of many gamers and critics to compare Final Fantasy VIII with James Cameron’s 1997 Titanic, and Squall with the film’s own protagonist, portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio. Aside from the central love story, there’s absolutely no ounce of similarity between the two, and Final Fantasy VIII is anything but a Hollywood tragedy.

Indeed, Final Fantasy VIII isn’t a faultless game, and the 1999’s games localization standards might be too crippling for it to truly prosper; yet a “masterpiece” seems appropriate enough to describe it in its entirety. It’s a toweringly epic, triumphant tour de force of stunning scope yet piercingly focused vision, boundlessly creative, unrelenting inventive, and diligently vigor and evocative. It is a true, modern videogame classic in definition and, personally, the perfect exemplar for any game to tread on its wondrous ambition and its keen characters study of troubled adolescents seeking their moments to shine.