Going into Xenogears, I knew 3 things. The first was that this game was supposed to be Final Fantasy VII, a game I played just a few months ago and became an instant favorite. The second is that due to a hard locked release schedule, the team didn't have enough time to properly "finish" Xenogears. The third is that it's basically just Evangelion.

I also felt it was fair to assume that this was gonna be a favorite. What I didn't assume was that this game would challenge the way I think about my relationships. At the age of 22, I didn't really think I would be able to have my worldview shifted by stories anymore. That was a thing for my teenage years. I get now this was a stupid thing to think.

I struggle to think about what I can even say about a classic like this that's unique or fresh. It's an old beloved RPG, everything that can be said about it has. So in order to talk about it I have to get vulnerable. Hi. My name is Mads. I have BPD.

The way being borderline has impacted my relationships is almost all internal. I seek validation, I want to belong, to have an impact on the people I love. Nothing I or they can do is able to convince me of that. I feel incomplete. Consequently, I feel my relationships are hollow because of me. I'm not able to get as intimate as I'd want to. I'm not able to ask for a shoulder to lean on. It feels selfish. It feels undeserved.

There's a scene about a third into this game that hammered home just how much this game made me feel seen. Without going into specifics, it involves 2 of the main cast members talking about how incomplete they feel. One describes their acts of kindness as a selfish act because they don't feel they belong, and all they hope to get out of that kindness is a place to be. The other validates that it's ok to act kindly out of selfishness. Eventually, in trying to fill yourself up, you'll complete yourself with the lives of those around you.

Another scene in disc 2, which was a flashback regarding the history of one of the main characters and explaining why they are the way they are, filled me with an intense urge to call my abusive mom and say "I'm sorry." I can't explain that. I have nothing to be sorry for. It's not my fault she treats me the way she does. I don't know what else to do besides talk about it, because god knows I have no interest in following through on that.

As far as this game not being finished goes, well, I don't think it's fair to call it that. It's a front to back story. It covers all the beats it needs to in order to function. Sure it's not fully realized, but I think it's okay to not be whole.

The myth of a Persona 3 "definitive edition" has haunted the halls of discussion over the series's fourth game and breakout implementation of its calendar system, with newcomers intimidated by what it attempts to do and how it sticks by it. Many have people hoped for something that combines FES's general presentation and style combined with Portable's gameplay improvements, and Reload sets out to obtain a middle ground while also adding the style and flourish Persona 5 has been known for.

But we've had a definitive edition for Persona 3 already, and it was called FES: nothing of it needed to be changed and what it has been exists perfectly by itself. So Persona 3 Reload inherently misunderstands the assignment by taking a story of simple teenagers scarred by what life has handed them and the consequences of the failures of our fathers, needing to take it into the next generation's hands and believe in our possibility for self improvement, while also recognizing that we are all different individuals, and partially turning it into a flashy power fantasy.

And in that regard, Reload fails: which is why I run into my dilemma. I can talk about the tonal issues implemented by what Reload decides to implement and change, but I still came out of this story with tears once again, even with its uglier animated cutscenes and FMVs. Even after the countless problems sprouted by needing to turn this unique gem of living one's life to the fullest by your own choices into a much easily digestible work for the newest waves of Persona fans, I still reached that final day where I reflect back on all the bonds I've created and tear up at how they've been able to turn around their lives in the face of hopelessness. Even in the sanding down and flanderization of Persona 3, one thing will forever shine through, and it is the core of its story.

"Greatness does not fade away". I can't ignore how worthwhile it was for me to revisit the work that lead me into the Shin Megami Tensei series and changed me for the better because of it; I can't ignore how attached I can get to this cast, and I could never ignore that, even if I can never reccomend this to someone as the definitive way to play over FES, how glad I am that this game can stand the test of time and continue to exist in its timelessness, and in its permanent beauty.

I'd like to start this review by quoting Kiryu himself in Yakuza 5

"I'm not like you. To you, being Yakuza is a way to die. To me... it's a way to live. We walk the same path, but you're barreling towards death, while I fight for life."

While this might be a Kiryu game in all effectiveness, to me this is a game dedicated to the series itself, and to the moment of glimmer the characters see in a way of life trudging through filth. The way of life that the Yakuza follow.

This game lets us finally see the true impact of what the dissolution of the Yakuza brought about. And in a meta-narrative sense, the end of Kiryu's age or the "Yakuza" series with the rebranding into Like a Dragon.

When you reflect on the series' origin, how Kiryu ended up in this way of life by idolizing a man who held guilt towards his actions. The diamonds of his effort resulted in him having ended the cycle by inspiring his children to be people who walk the path of light. He didn't just end the age of Yakuza in this game, he truly brought about something good from Kazama's actions that kicked off his life no matter how morally grey he was.

To quote Kiryu again,

"I can hide my past all I want. But no matter how much I hate it...I'll always be Yakuza."

"I can erase my name all I want but I can't deny who I am."

He unbashedly acknowledges how he is Yakuza through and through in the series, and while his ideal might've been one of hope and strength the path of violence that he has taken has had its consequences in turn bringing about a cycle of violence that threatened all that was precious to him. And inspiring others to follow it in the wake he leaves.

This is where I'll make a tangent to talk about Shishido, I think he is the best thing to come out of this game. On paper, he might be just a man who tried to prevent the end of the Yakuza because that's the only way of life he knew. But to me, he's more than a character in the narrative, he's a figure who represents every single person in this way of life across the series. He is the result of what Kiryu's life influenced in a twisted way.

Confronting Shishido at the end must've felt like facing a crystallization of his own life to Kiryu. When you see him size himself up with the backdrop of the Omi alliance building, that's when I knew he wasn't just representing himself but the very blood, sweat and tears that went in throughout the series that led to this.

While Yakuza is a series that talks about humanity in criminals, it also deconstructs itself by commenting on the modern age of Yakuza where there are no ideals or honour in the men who identify as such. To them, it's just another way to succeed and indulge in the pleasures of life.

Where Someya is a man who was able to walk the path of the lost ideals despite losing himself, Shishido is someone who inherited the one thing about the Yakuza that's universal across all of them. Tenacity.

He is a cry for survival the Yakuza shout out in their dying blaze. And one that calls out to Kiryu as the man who stands atop it all. An effigy of the ideals that breathe no more.

If Yakuza 6 was about his parenthood being tested and the sacrifices he would make to uphold it, Gaiden is about him coming to confront the past he couldn't in 6. The demons he's built and festered, the legacy that nearly consumed him whole. It's impressive how small-scale and contained the narrative is, focusing solely on the end of the Yakuza. We direly needed to see Kiryu's perspective on this as it isn't just a conclusion to the era but also the end of his life as Kazuma Kiryu.

That's all I have to say about the narrative and how previous entries play into it but to make a few footnotes, it's a little disappointing the first 4 chapters don't do a lot for the story but it's fine considering they are primarily here to serve the finale. The gameplay is good it felt unpolished which isn't surprising with how short of a development cycle it had. What I did of the side content was standard fare for the series, the coliseum is good. The music is great and this is the best-looking game in the series undoubtedly.

To conclude the review with the quote I started it off on if a man whose identity and actions are so tied to a path he finds to be rubbish can start over, I can't help but be inspired.

I'm gonna repeat myself a little here but it is incredibly rewarding emotionally to see that Kiryu's life through the mistakes, partings and suffering he bears, leads to something meaningful. Even if his past being bloody is something he regrets, his purpose as Yakuza resulted in lives brightened as the ultimatum.

To be able to destroy the throne he sat on and subsequently wipe off the face of the Yakuza, I can't think of a more perfect ending for The man who erased his name.