Many years ago, Dara O’Briain did one of the only good standup routines about video games. Video games, O’Briain argued, are the only entertainment medium that actively tests the observer, withholding their content behind challenges of mentality and dexterity. Albums, television shows and films will carry on regardlessly from the moment you press play; sections of a book that prove hard to read can be flipped past; but challenging sections of a game have to be bested or even mastered in order to progress. Want to see what happens next in Dark Souls, but can’t beat the Capra Demon? Too bad. Heard that Through Time and Space is one of the best video game levels ever, but can’t grapple with The Witcher’s inventory management and combat systems? Tough shit.

While there’s an amusing honesty to the bit, it kinda belies an uncomfortable truth about video games - that the parts where you’re moving the joysticks are likely to be the only moments of intellectual stimulation that most video games have to offer, with cutscenes more or less functioning as rewarding soap opera spectacle. It’s hard to discuss this kind of thing without sounding like a wanker, but it’s just a fact that even prestigious “adult” game-fiction like The Last of Us or God of War still rarely stirs anything more than an acknowledging “huh” in the players who’ve deigned to step outside the cultural borders of electronic entertainment and other mainstream media. Games narratives still tend to rely on cinematic cutscenes to convey information and drama, and most of the time said information or metatext is barely worth parlaying to the player - $10 million spent on comic book writers telling us “man is the real monster” or “depression is bad”. At their very best, our prestige video games are still just doing replicas of better movies.

killer7 differentiates itself from this convention in a number of ways. It’s a game that makes no concessions for those who expect a linear, event-driven narrative, peppering weirdo pseudo-plot and thought throughout map layouts, door keys (ever thought about what the Soul Shells are?) and helpful hints from dudes in gimpsuits who are prone to taking left turns into Baudrillardian philosophy while directing you to the bathroom. Textual and subtextual ambiguity reigns supreme. The gameplay (on Medium, at least) is unlikely to challenge the player all that much - aside from a few head-scratcher puzzles, it’s more or less a case of walking from point of interest to point of interest to open doors and shoot zombies. And, in a strange inversion of the problem outlined above, it’s the cutscenes and character dialogues that will tax a player’s brain far harder than anything that involves clicking buttons.

I think killer7 is a work of profound ridiculousness. Or ridiculous profundity. Something like that, anyway - I’m not quite sure of the precise term I need here, but I think Suda and Mikami are pulling from the playbooks of guys like Thomas Pynchon and David Lynch with this game - keep throwing potentially meaningful ideas and images at the screen, both within and outwith the realm of the cutscene, and let the true ones stick - the viewer will be too busy grappling with the good to remember the bad. It’s a technique that surprisingly few games dabble in, despite the supernatural properties of the medium and the obnoxious, inhuman lengths that most games require a player to play for.

So what are the good images here? Well, I guess it’s a function of the temporal, political and personal preferences of the player. Like abstract paintings, surrealist movies and post-modern novels, killer7 is wholly open to interpretation through your own kaleidoscopic lens. Unlike most game narratives that more or less bluntly prescribe a story and some associated themes (if any at all), killer7, like most Suda games, seems content to spray blood against the walls and do some interactive Rorschach testing with your psyche. Sure, there’s talk of American-Japanese relations and terrorism and borders and killers and the valise of our personae, but there’s nothing proscriptive or particularly didactic here - it’s more or less a presentation of post-9/11 realities that the player is asked to order and interpret as they see fit; a balancing act of feelings versus facts in opposition with fictions. Hand in killer7, the companion book for killer7, even (deliberately?) contradicts the facts of its own reality within the first ten pages - as if to highlight how pointless an endeavour Making Sense of it All is, especially in our Fukuyama/Fisher-influenced End of Capitalist-Realist History-Present.

By complete coincidence, I played through this game in parallel with the trial of Ghislaine Maxwell, and finished it on the same day she was convicted - so Target 03: Encounter (Part 2) - where the Killer 7 head to an Epstein-pre-Epstein prescient-simulacra of Little James Island to take out an organ trader and implied child molester - held particular relevancy to me. The Jeffrey Epstein case and its relevant co-conspiracies are probably the best examples of what I’m prattling on about above - get ten, twenty, or a hundred people in a room together, and you’ll probably get a hundred interpretations of what the inner sanctum of Epstein’s reality really was - a whole smoothie bar of blended facts, news, fake news, Facebook news, speculation, fiction, fact and fuck knows what else. killer7 is often lumped together with The Silver 2425 as part of the “Kill the Past” series, and I think this info-meld of history in the melting pot of public consciousness is one of the chief relationships the games have with each other. Ironic that games about removing the past would so thoroughly realise the future of our present.

How did Suda51 know that the word’s top players would conspire to send an assassin after a sanctioned private ally of the United States government, a living evil who trafficked young girls with both personal and ulterior purpose? And how did he know a global pandemic would (temporarily) return humanity to a road-faring race? As is often suggested with Suda51 (see also: The Silver Case, No More Heroes) he may be one of gaming’s top producers of prophetic works. “Prophetic media” has been in vogue since March 2020 - references to media-elite paedophile rings in mid-2000s Nickelodeon cartoons; references to coronavirus in mid-2010s K-Dramas; references to Tom Hanks getting sick in mid-1990s episodes of The Simpsons. Wow! How do they pull it off?! Well, as with killer7’s imagery, I think it may be down to volume of produce rather than accuracy of content. The Simpsons is able to predict so much shit correctly because every ‘incorrect’ prediction isn’t even recognised as a prediction until it comes close to resembling some form of the truth we want it to be. The same applies to the images that Grasshopper’s games create.

Is this the secret to making remarkable, meaningful art and cultural commentary? Just keep producing, producing, producing until your images become resonant by virtue of the typewriter-monkey principle? That’s maybe underselling what Grasshopper achieved here - the foundations killer7 are built upon are more or less rock-solid. The cel-shaded mono-colour aesthetic is timeless, and the chosen palette for each Target is fittingly eerie. The control system, while initially awkward, is ultimately a solid compromise for a game that distills a gameplay fusion between Mikami’s Resident Evil series and Suda’s Silver Case adventure games - and it feels even better on PC, where 90% of the game can be played with just the mouse.

Although often cited as unconventional, I think the gameplay style of killer7 is a fairly logical compromise for these two creators, who seem more concerned with tone poetry and 2000s-exploration than providing a compelling and practical gamefeel. Anyway, it’s sometimes more important that a game feels good in the brain than on the hands moving the controller. killer7 is a game that locks its content away inside your mind, with progress often being made many hours after you’ve stepped away from the console and allowed your third eye time to process the images your two eyes have seen. It’s all in your head.

what does it mean to be a creator? well, obviously it’s to make a work, something that is yours. but, what defines the line between being a creator or not? as a (self proclaimed) photographer i question, am i a creator? i create photos but i do not necessarily create the world within the confines of the photo. being able to maximize the impact of said world within the limits of a photograph is what i believe to be a key part of being a photographer.

bound by the chains of corporate demands and strict time windows, suda had the vision, the world. all that was needed was mikami to metaphorically snap the photo, and capture suda’s visions in the most substantially compelling way possible.

photographers are as much creators as a painter or musician is. they may not be the direct source for what they produce, but what artist is? everyone has influences and points of reference for their work. photographers have… just a much larger reference is all, a pre-painted canvas if you will, where they can do what they see fit with this canvas to create.

all that was left was the final touch, a soundtrack to accompany this creation. like how memories and stories can extrinsically loom in a photograph, a soundtrack looms throughout a video game. takada is, putting it bluntly, a damn genius when it comes to this field. he knows exactly the right drum beat, the right guitar riff that can emotionally intensify a scene.

im not going to go into what killer7 means in-and-of itself, rather what it means as a work, a creation. to explain what in the fuck goes on in this game is fruitless, much like suda’s prior works honestly. the thrill of kill the past is in its absurdity and broad ideologies, both never ceasing to be thought provoking in one way or another. there’s an endless amount of perspectives you could assume to try and narrow down what it all means, but personally i find it almost futile. don’t get me wrong i love discussing suda’s works in the context of their deeper meanings, although honestly i’m okay knowing i don’t completely understand games like flower sun and rain, 25th ward, and killer7. people are typically infatuated with what they do not comprehend, and are infatuated with wanting to comprehend. i am infatuated with suda because of his willingness to deliberately create something that people won’t comprehend. that itself i respect and it’s always a treat when these incomprehensible creations end up becoming flat out masterpieces.

and now it is complete. through the collaborative genius at grasshopper manufacture, an overwhelmingly artistic work both before and ahead of its time has been created. killer7 is both dated and timeless; both the worst, and best video game ever made. a game such as this will never be created ever again.

i’ve spent the past few minutes rereading what i’ve written thus far wondering how to conclude this concisely in a manner that ties everything together. it’s hard. i was thinking of talking about the gameplay but everybody knows the gameplay. everybody knows that no matter what, the instant bloody combustion of a heaven smile always feels good, and that the sounds that accompany the firing and reloading of your weapon always feel good. killer7 feels good.

i’ve realized that killer7 doesn’t really conclude and nothing ties together, but that’s the beauty of it. you’re left satisfied despite this, left with ideas and thoughts that boil. and they will continue to boil. killer7 will never end. as long as video games exist, killer7 will always have the last laugh.

The day he stops smiling is the day we remember his smile.

To me, Katamari Damacy is the margherita pizza of video games. It's one of the simplest yet most innately fulfilling concepts in the medium: roll up things with your ball to become big to roll up more things. While this description is accurate however, it doesn't do justice towards the game's underlying complexity. Committal tank controls combined with the seemingly strewn about yet carefully placed objects of varying sizes means that Katamari forces players to consider both the micro and macro design which the game effortlessly excels at. The player must weave in and out of clusters of increasingly large objects, building up their sphere while also mapping out the optimal paths (snagging relevant objects while factoring in how their shapes, once collected, will alter the roll) and keeping in mind how larger objects must be avoided at first and later consumed in the growing mass as the world appears to shrinks around you. For this reason, I think it's not just a simple power fantasy, and instead more closely resembles pure obstacle escalation. Katamari Damacy really drills in the sense of player progression from how the world unfolds from sense of scale (which is why it gets away with only three distinct stages) and even seemingly inverts its own concepts with side stages that force you to avoid smaller themed objects just to get your katamari to the perfect size for the ultimate outcome: the reward is made that much more gratifying with just a bit of restraint.

This all works seamlessly because Katamari is the king of player feedback. It can certainly feel frustrating at first, getting tossed around like fireworks by these moving objects that dwarf you, but the game knows exactly how to communicate your inherent progress. As your ball exponentially swells, these moving objects go from sending you flying, to lacking any significant impact upon contact, to eventually spotting the player and running away from the growing catastrophe. There's nothing more viscerally satisfying than coming back to mobile obstacles that were pushing you around and flattening them, hearing their cry as they too become stuck in the jumbled mess of rolling flotsam while the King of the Cosmos quips in the background. Simply put, the concept never outstays its welcome.

Going back to the opening metaphor, it requires much finesse to make all these different concepts sing together with little friction in a video game, this fusion of audio-visual presentation and player input. That said, to successfully disguise its intricate design and depth beneath its far-reaching artistic vision and simple yet realized gameplay mechanics takes a master's touch. Katamari Damacy does not try to explain why it works or how it succeeds, because it simply is, and it just does. Perhaps I've moved onto greater and grander things since that have built off of this, but I have to admit that sometimes, you just can't beat the basics in life. It's always worth going back for a slice or two every now and then, just to remind yourself that this is why video games exist in the first place: because underneath all this talk of focus and cohesion, video games are just goddamn fun.

Also, it's fantastic hangover food for you and your buddies after a long night, when they come calling you for content and suddenly it's 3 AM in a packed Discord call where everyone is wailing "YOU'REEEEE LONNEEELLLY ROLLING STARRRR" as this growing, screaming ball of flailing limbs bounces helplessly about for yet another awry creation. Let the good times roll.

Length Warning. No, seriously. This is one of the longest reviews on Backloggd, if not THE longest. With that said, I’ve organized my thoughts and analysis between 36 titled chapters, so feel free to skip around and read whichever ones grab your interest. Spoilers for the Xenoblade Chronicles trilogy.

THE ORIGIN OF TOMORROW: A COMPREHENSIVE REVIEW AND ANALYSIS OF XENOBLADE CHRONICLES 3

Aionios (Greek: aionioß) · without beginning and end, that which always has been and always will be · "Without end, never ceasing, eternal". [you know, sort of like this review]

From the outset of Xenoblade Chronicles 3, director Tetsuya Takahashi, and more broadly the entire Monolith Soft team, set out with the express intent of merging the "Best of Both Worlds" of Xenoblade Chronicles and Xenoblade Chronicles 2. Funnily enough, though, in their attempt to assimilate the strengths of these two titles, which are similarly beloved but in very different ways, they veer in an entirely new direction which ends up forgoing much of the appeal from both of those games. An appeal, might I add, which is sure to fall short for certain sections of the Xenoblade fanbase, if not inherently because of its nature as an "artistic compromise". This is particularly true for the fans who are diehards of ONE specific Xenoblade title rather than both, regardless of if it’s for XC1 or XC2.

So, while XC3 can certainly be defined as a “union” of these two past games, it might be more useful to instead contextualize this union through one of a few distinct analogies. Think of XC3 as a chemical reaction of sorts. XC1 and XC2 are like chemical compounds, each with their own makeup which determine their unique appeal and merit. But through the Merge, the in-game union and catalyst which led to the creation of the world setting and subsequent narrative of XC3, those starting compounds were rearranged beyond recognition.

Second, it may be helpful to liken the union of these two games to conception. XC1 and XC2 are like the parents, which joined together to birth the child that is XC3. This offspring might be entirely composed of the genetic material of its parents. However, the rearrangement of their properties, not to mention the inherently unique circumstances of their existence, instead birthed something completely new; a game which carved out an entirely distinct niche in practicality.

Third, to relate this union to in-game terminology, you can even liken the existence of XC3 to an Interlink between XC1 and XC2. Two worlds being drawn ever closer together by their opposing attraction and narrative longing. In combat terms, this is represented by two members of Ouroboros combining to fill an entirely new role than either the Kevesi or Agnian member held prior.

Well, regardless of how you choose to look at this Merge, either literally or symbolically, the same truth remains. The end product may bear external resemblance to its predecessors, but the end result is different enough in practicality to have a predominantly unique appeal. Alongside this uniquely emerging appeal, however, has come a slew of issues, both major and minor. Many consider XC3’s villains who uphold their newfound status quo to be dull, underwritten, and sometimes even outright bad. Hell, you can even justifiably debate whether the main antagonist is a character or not to begin with. Even as someone who has massive respect for what they tried to do with Z as a villain (and succeeded in doing, I should clarify), I’m not gonna sit here and pretend Z has the same level of sauce as the likes of Egil and Malos.

Another predominant issue which arose from this Merge is that there is an ungodly amount of shit going on in XC3. And unfortunately, no matter how you look at it, the vast majority of that content and the ideas it presents feel undercooked. There are two games worth (hell, even THREE games worth if we’re counting the potential for expansion through a prequel) of ideas here. Two or three games worth of shit all “Merged” into one conglomerate. Even after a 250 hour playthrough, extensive research, and discussion with friends about the deeper lore, I’ve come out of XC3 with more questions than I came in with.

There is little point arguing that XC3 falls well short of what it could have achieved, particularly with its worldbuilding. Not just as a unique piece of art on its own merits, but as an idealized union of its predecessors. Hell, I don't even like XC1 or XC2 that much anyway. So what does this say about the “missed opportunities incarnate” that is XC3? This can't possibly bode well for a game that exists as an artistically homogenized conglomerate of two games I don't even like that much to begin with?

Well, you saw the rating. I’ll drop the facade: Against all odds, this is one of my absolute favorite games ever.

Xenoblade Chronicles 3 is one of the most ambitious, emotionally poignant, and thematically layered pieces of art I have ever experienced. Those criticisms I just called attention to were not hyperbole for the sake of misdirection. I won’t deny any of them, nor can you even really dispute them at all, for the most part. But despite the thousand different ways this game can be considered a majestic fuckup, it still manages to be pure magic from beginning to end. It single-handedly revitalized (and exponentially grew) my enthusiasm for a franchise that I’ve desperately tried to love for nearly ten years but never remotely have. Never, until now.

Also, interestingly enough, this game is... kind of ass. Like, more so than the previous two. But, if anything, that only further serves to make how strong my feelings are about what this game set out to do, and ended up achieving, all the more impressive.

As we approach the beginning of the analysis itself, I’d like to repeat my warning one more time. XC3 surprised me in ways I didn’t think possible. I really would recommend giving it a try for yourself before continuing. But if you’d rather just let me try to sell you on it, that’s cool too, I guess: So, one last time: Spoiler warning. Length warning. Really, I’m not stressing this again for nothing. This introduction might SEEM like overkill, but comparatively, it’s nothing. We haven’t even gotten started yet. If you intend on reading further, I’d recommend searching up one of the 10,000 generic “Relaxing Xenoblade Music” compilations or whatever on YouTube. They're all exactly the same. There is so much to say that I have no choice but to gush and rant about this game--for what will probably take hours to read. Whether I want it to be or not, communicating my feelings about this game is a utterly massive undertaking. And, considering how important it is to me as a piece of art, its MANY flaws and all, I can’t in good faith make any major compromises.

I’m completely aware that a text review of THIS scope inherently limits the audience of people interested in hearing me out to like… two people?? That said, I’d be appreciative of any Xenoblade fans or, again, people who just don’t give a shit about having the game spoiled for them to come along for the ride. This goes double for those who were let down by XC3, because I intend to explore ways in which this game can be seen as both a resounding, and yet gloriously human, failure. I know it’s a hell of a lot to ask, so again, feel free to skip around to whatever chapter’s material catches your eye the most.

Lastly, please do keep in mind that my intentions with the more analytical and worldbuilding-centric chapters were never to unearth mind-shattering revelations about the lore that have never been brought up before now. I’m far from a seasoned theorycrafter, and my limited knowledge on the Xeno games outside the trilogy doesn’t help. But at the very least, I hope to contribute to the conversation with my own perspective, perhaps sharing some manner of unique insight for you to consider along the way.

Xenoblade Chronicles 3 means the world to me, and I never for a second saw it coming. Hopefully, by the end of this review, I can convince you to feel the same.

CHAPTER 0: ORIGIN (mine, not the big black robot egg thing)
(Preface, My History and Experience with Xenoblade Chronicles)

I guess I’ll begin with a quick rundown of my history with the franchise, since I do think this context from which my thoughts are coming from is important. But if you really couldn’t care less and just want the analysis, go ahead and skip to Chapter 1.

Anyway, I have not played Xenogears nor the Xenosaga trilogy (though I did manage to snag episode 3 on eBay recently, so… soon™). However, I have played the directly relevant Xenoblade Chronicles titles. So, XC1, 2, and now 3 (not X yet either sadly, though it does look insanely rad. That Hiroyuki Sawano OST tho). This is important since, from what I’ve gathered, XC3 does harken back to imagery and builds on concepts explored as far back as Xenogears. As such, I won’t be commenting on those much, if at all, here. This essay will be almost entirely focused on XC3 and XC3 alone. Even continuity stuff will be primarily glossed over.

As for my history with XC1/2, I’ll keep my thoughts on them to just this one section. Frankly, I don’t think my thoughts on either game are unique enough to merit talking about at length. Long story short: I’ve always considered Xenoblade to be pretty decent, but have never considered myself to give any sort of shit about the franchise in a serious way. Well, certainly not to the extent everyone else has always seemed to for either XC1 or XC2. I do distinctly remember XC1 grabbing me early on, and overall continued to far more than XC2 did for the majority of its runtime. Between its diverse world setting and legendary soundtrack, you’d be hard-pressed to argue how impressive or important of a game the original Xenoblade Chronicles was.

But in terms of its narrative? I genuinely feel like the coolest thing about the “narrative” of XC1 (if you can even call it that) was the story of Operation Rainfall. That shit rules. In terms of the REAL story, the character writing and design (for everyone not named Melia), its combat/gameplay loop, and my simple absence of emotional investment... I was pretty bummed to realize that XC1 didn’t quite do it for me. At least not the way it seems to for most other players. It’s the sort of game I had the most fun with when I was just wandering around, exploring its massive environments and getting lost in the field music. Like, rather than actually playing the game.

XC2 moved even further away from the sort of thing I vibe with. It did have the same aforementioned strengths as XC1, hell I’d even consider 2’s soundtrack more dynamic and consistent than 1’s, probably. But again, I noticed my long term enthusiasm for the series slowly diminishing through just about every other aspect of XC2; from major issues like its impressively lethargic combat/questing/gameplay loop, to countless minor issues. Just to name the first of my basic bitch complaints which come to mind: Rex’s salvager outfit having been carefully crafted by a team of elite scientists in order to create bitchlessness incarnate. No, the irony of assessing Rex this way is not lost on me after having finished XC3. Yes, we will talk about it a bit later.

Leading up to the release of XC3, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to bother buying it to begin with. I had trouble justifying such a huge time commitment for yet another entry in a series I’ve never been particularly fond of. My interest in Xenoblade had only continued to wane over time, to the point where I completely passed up on XC2’s various DLC updates, the XC2 Torna the Golden Country expansion game, as well as XC1 Definitive Edition’s new “Future Connected” epilogue game. However, after playing XC3, my view of the franchise has completely flipped on its head. The Xeno Series has, seemingly out of nowhere, established itself among those whose futures I find myself most enthusiastic about.

Well, in a roundabout way, I guess. It’s clear this is the swan song for Takahashi’s vision and the current saga’s ongoing narrative. So ironically, it only really succeeded at hyping me up for Takashi’s previous works, namely Xenogears and Xenosaga. I’ll 100% be playing both of these in the near future. But the ACTUAL future of the franchise is now entirely left up in the air once again. But, well, if you’ve played XC3, you’ve probably immediately realized why this is so incredibly fitting. An endless unknown, a future you largely cannot control or even predict; this is what XC3 says is worth fighting for.

Fighting to live- rather than to stagnate. Living to fight- rather than submitting to fearful contentment.

With that out of the way, let’s start talking about that one funni British anime shōnen game I actually DO give a fuck about.

Xenoblade Chronicles 3.

CHAPTER 1 - THE ENDLESS NOW: FIGHT TO LIVE, LIVE TO FIGHT
(Initial thoughts, Opening Cinematic, and Preliminary Themes)

“Fighting in order to live. And living to fight. That's the way of our world, Aionios. Cruel irony that it should mean "eternity". Because slowly but surely, our world is now dying. Even though we have yet to realize that fact." -Noah, Chapter 1

SUBSECTION 1: QUALITY OF LIFE
I know this review has already had a TON of framing, already, but we’re getting there, trust me. Anyway, let me just get my absolute first impressions out of the way before getting to the meat of the game itself. From the first moments I booted up Xenoblade Chronicles 3, I was repeatedly hit with pangs of hope to believe that this game might resonate with me the way I always hoped prior entries would. This actually started before I even began the game through its various quality of life options available in the menu. Yes, starting the first chapter by reviewing the options is thrilling, I know. It’ll be quick, just humor me. A hard difficulty setting was available right out of the gates, unlike in the original releases of XC1 and XC2. It gives you the option to review tutorials on literally any of the game’s hundreds of mechanics / systems, even going so far as to provide drills for the most important ones (i.e. combos, interlinking, chain attacks etc.) to ensure a thorough understanding of how they function. It might sound trivial, but if you played XC2 completely blind like I did, you know damn well just how stark a contrast this is.

But perhaps most importantly, to me at least, it gives you the ability to turn off the minimap and various HUD elements out the door. For a huge, modern JRPG release, this is a surprisingly rare consideration. Considering how big and open Xenoblade games are, this feature alone was an easy way to win me over before even starting a new game. When I play a game that emphasizes scope and exploration, I prefer to use my eyes to do so, rather than having them glued to the corner of my screen as I stare unblinkingly at a smol yellow arrow. I’m not sure why this is even remotely debatable, but for those who do enjoy that sort of thing, more power to ya, really. At least you’ll be able to play Dragon Quest XI without the burning urge to tape a circular piece of cardboard to the bottom-left corner of your TV. Anyway, once I booted up the game proper, Xenoblade Chronicles 3 grabbed me by the balls and seldom let go for the next 250 or so hours I spent within the world of Aionios.

SUBSECTION 2: THE OPENING CINEMATIC OF XENOBLADE CHRONICLES 3
Let’s start from the very beginning: Despite having zero context or explicit knowledge about the greater significance of this game’s opening cutscene, the abrupt time-stop and aggressively cryptic merge sequence that followed had my stomach-churning from the intensity of its visual presentation and sound design alone. Likewise, it had my mind churning in a desperate attempt to make any semblance of sense out of it. What was I watching? What did it mean? At that moment, just as Noah was, I was utterly helpless; incapable of anything beyond paralyzed, yet conscious, bewilderment.

The battle between Colony 9 and Colony Sigma immediately follows. This sequence only pressed harder on the gas, intriguing me further about the nature and machinations of Aionios (yes, the word choice reflecting XC1’s titans here was deliberate. No, there isn’t any huge meaning behind it, I just thought it was cute). The parallels to XC1’s iconic opening battle were effective at initially grabbing your attention, to be sure. However, what really kept me intrigued here was the incessantly bleak tone which leaked from every orifice of XC3’s opening cinematic. The battle takes place on Torchlight Hill, a commonplace battleground found on the Aetia Region’s Everblight Plain. A sprawling, yet decidedly lifeless, landscape. Nothing but brown, rocky terrain as far as the eye can see. The only thing lining its surface which resembled life was a sea of Kevesi and Agnian husks- corpses. Hundreds of soldiers, belonging to the diametrically opposed forces of Keves and Agnus, both of which run across the length of this barren land, paved with bodies, to clash at the battlefield’s center. Fighting to live. Living to fight. From the moment you hear this phrase, you as the player are indoctrinated into the conspiracy which is the Endless Now. A phrase which loops back onto itself evermore, like a Moebius strip. No beginning, no end, just continually looping for eternity. From the first time you hear this phrase, you are keyed in to what constitutes the entire thematic crux of XC3’s 250-hour journey: The Endless Now.

SUBSECTION 3: FERRONIS, STEEL GOD OF THE BATTLEFIELD
Of perhaps greater significance than the soldiers themselves, in hindsight, was the overwhelming presence of the two colonies’ respective Ferronises. A Ferronis is a mobile assault weapon which doubles as a shelter for each colony. Just as fallen soldier husks lay below the feet of their surviving comrades, those same surviving soldiers lay at the feet of the warring colonies’ Ferronises. These two giant hulking steel masses were, on the surface, the ultimate prize for the opposing colony, as the Ferronis is what holds the Flame Clock, along with all the opposing colonies’ life force housed within it. Thematically, though, the Ferronises serve to sow yet another seed within the player. They depict how, in the grand scheme of the Moebius conspiracy, these soldiers’ capabilities and contributions are explicitly predetermined and more importantly, utterly superfluous to the greater conflict. They don’t shy away from this fact, either. It’s made apparent from the start, as we see the Ferronises make their way across the battlefield, crushing countless bodies beneath their feet. Like a two-ton truck driving over a patch of earthworms.

Their presence, both literally and symbolically, completely tramples the individual soldier’s personal resolve and abilities. Whether they’re driven by motivation from the military ambition upon which they were raised and trained to uphold. Their brainwashed bigotry from Moebius-orchestrated propaganda. Or even their burning desire to avenge their fallen comrades. An individual soldier’s capacity for impacting the war is inherently dwarfed by that of a single Ferronis. Dwarfed to the point where their efforts might as well not exist to begin with. Each soldier is likely no bigger than a single bolt on these steel monstrosities. Not even the entirety of their most elite squadrons could hope to match the sheer firepower of a single blast from one of the Ferronis’ various weapon installations. And yet, both sides were unwavering in their pursuit of bloodshed- all to feed the ever-draining Flame Clock.

The name Ferronis (Japanese: 鉄巨神, Tetsu Kyoshin, lit. Iron Giant God) reflects both that of the Bionis (Japanese: 巨神, Kyoshin, lit. Giant God) and the Titans of Alrest (Japanese: 巨神獣, Kyoshin-jū, lit. Giant Divine Beasts). It’s clear that Moebius’ propaganda even bleeds into their naming conventions- at least in the original script. There is even evidence to back up the literal intent behind these names, given the nature of Origin as an archive of the two World’s pre-Merge data. This further emphasizes the machines’ overpowering significance, by comparing them to Gods. Gods which control the battlefield which happens to be occupied by the soldiers, who are naught but superfluous pawns in comparison.

This also serves to tie the Ferronises under that banner of “a product which embodies the best of both worlds”. Keep in mind that both Agnian and Kevesi Ferronises are later revealed to be constructed in the exact same facilities within Origin. Origin, of course, is a facility whose inception crossed multiple dimensions; an arc that quite literally sought to preserve the best both worlds had to offer. With the Queen of Keves Melia falling captive to Z, the progenitor of Moebius, the mechanical prowise and wisdom of both worlds has fallen entirely into their hands.

SUBSECTION 4: FERRONIS, LENS AND PROXY OF MOEBIUS
Because of this, it’s easy to extrapolate these Ferronises as the concept of Moebius themselves, carrying out their will on the front lines of battle. Because the soldiers’ efforts are largely individualized, it’s important that they’re dwarfed in comparison by something Moebius can maintain direct control over. In this sense, think of the Ferronis as the “Great Equalizer”, ensuring the Endless Now remains in perfect balance on the front lines. There are other means through which Moebius makes sure this is accomplished, like the intermediary of Colony 0, but more on that later.

Anyway, the Ferronises are Gods towering over the pawns which comprise both Keves and Agnus, watching them struggle in vain as they continue to propagate Moebius’ very own Endless Now. It’s an impressive personification of two of XC3’s most prominent themes. Not only does it reflect the individual soldier’s bleak powerlessness in this opening cutscene, but Moebius adds insult to injury in doing so through the “slice of godhood” known as Ferronises. They stand as an aggregate product of Origin, both of which are later discovered to be Ouroboros’ single beacon of hope (by proxy of Flame Clock liberation, and later, reclaiming and resetting the interdimensional ark). But during this opening cutscene, these Ferronises are the very embodiment of overpowering hopelessness. What was intended as the Queen’s own beacon of hope is now being used against them. To trivialize their individual efforts and keep them in check as they unknowingly play into the hand of Moebius’ continued prosperity.

They act as enslaved chess pieces subject to the whims of intelligent and tyrannical superiors (seen thru Consuls literally playing chess while sippin life juice). Keves and Agnus soldiers alike carried out the one and only act they’ve ever known. The act they were born to carry out. Were indoctrinated in through textbook propaganda to carry out. Were trained in the art of war to carry out. And eventually, were encoded to instinctually carry out- by what they falsely presumed to be their own free will: Fight to live, live to fight.

SUBSECTION 5: A POINT IN TIME, A THEMATIC MICROCOSM
In all honesty, this battle between Keves and Agnus can be viewed as a microcosm for the entirety of the conspiratorial conflict as orchestrated by Moebius. It even fits as such beyond this illusion of free will and trivial value depicted through the individual soldier. This battle is portrayed by the soldiers as an intense, high-stakes fight to protect the lives of themselves and their loved ones. And while this might be true on the surface, after looking back on this scene in hindsight, XC3 makes it abundantly clear that their struggle was utterly meaningless.

Each and every life lost in this battle would just be reborn to continue carrying out the cycle. Perhaps more importantly, this entire battle, despite resulting in the demise of ENTIRE colony through Colony Sigma, it was just one of the countless battles that took place on this exact strip of land. Not to mention, the one example of prior Everblight Plain battle records we’re explicitly given details how Shido, then known as All-Slayer Oleg, led Colony Chi single-handedly in the brutal onslaught of an entire Kevesi colony before the events of the game. Considering the long-term ramifications of this battle, even beyond the destruction of an entire colony, it’s clear that the battle between Colony 9 and Colony Sigma wasn’t even among the most important battles in this ONE specific battlefield. This fact only further drives home the futility radiating from every shot and line from this opening sequence. None of it meant a thing. Ironically, this is what made it so meaningful- through its thematic poignancy alone.

This bleak tone even doubles back onto that very first scene, which portrays the Merge through the eyes of Noah. Time quite literally stopped around him, a fact he was cognizant of given that he managed to resist the time-freeze for a few seconds beyond everything else. There was no one to ask for help, no one to explain to him what was happening. There was no means by which the young Noah could interfere personally. He was an ordinary child, standing there helplessly as he witnessed the literal apocalypse. Not just the destruction of his World of Bionis, but both Worlds. It goes without saying that, in a situation like this, ignorance is bliss. In this sense, it could even be viewed as an uncharitable argument IN FAVOR of the Endless Now. After all, freezing time indefinitely was the only was to avoid the horror and destruction that would arise from the impact of the Merge.

Anyway, Noah’s persisting sentience only served to further instill him with utter helplessness. The explicit meaning or ramifications of this scene aren’t made apparent to Noah nor the player until right near the end of the game. However, this does explain why these two scenes work so well in tandem in and of itself. It’s no wonder they were so effective in eliciting an intense response of discomfort even upon my first viewing, even if it was entirely instinctual or subconscious.

SUBSECTION 6: A TRIUMPH IN CINEMATOGRAPHY
Even outside the overflowing thematic importance which this opening scene establishes, it’s just phenomenally well put together in every regard (well, aside from the combat tutorial which babies you into submission as you wait 20 seconds for each of Noah’s arts to recharge). The way these scenes flow into one another symbolically (but also literally, through the interspersed bits of gameplay) is just… incredible. The way it illustrates that oppressively bleak tone in a way that completely overpowers the surface level action and intensity of war felt reminiscent of the opening to Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga. Just, yknow, without the cheesy Matrix bullshit (I say this as endearingly as possible btw, that shit rules).

But yeah, I’ll probably say it five more times over the course of this review, but this game is unbelievably cinematic from beginning to end. It was pretty early into the game that I first made the claim that this is the single most cinematic JRPG ever created. By the time you get to Chapter 5’s 1-2 straight hours of cutscenes, which bring you all the way from the abyss of despair to the soaring heights of triumphant catharsis, there’s little debating it in my mind.

The sheer awe generated from these cutscenes isn’t a remotely uncommon experience, either. Every single chapter’s big cinematic moments had me enthralled in some way or another. The directing, the voice performances (both EN and JP), the action choreography, the weight, the expressiveness, the tension and intrigue of its most cryptic mysteries, the countless pieces of accompanying music… It’s the best of the best, no question. I could list specific moments, but I’m sure they’ve already popped into your head by this point anyway. XC3’s main story is aggressively memorable. And this opening cinematic is only the tip of the iceberg in that regard. I know that generally, the characters do a lot of the heavy lifting in that regard. But it’s accomplished in no small part due to phenomenal cutscene direction and cinematic atmosphere, both of which help it live up to the lofty ambition of its premise and themes.

CHAPTER 2 - The Triumphant Return of Dresspheres, Tokusatsu-tinged Bullshit, and Gloriously Overstimulating Chaos
(Combat, Job System, Customization, and Role Definition)

The combat in Xenoblade Chronicles 3 is bafflingly awesome. Who knew all it’d take for Xenoblade to have actual fun gameplay would be to rip off Final Fantasy X-2’s fashion-dictated class system and to ditch the Skells in favor of Interlink, an amalgamation of Digital Devil Saga transformation, pseudosexual fusion dance, and Tokusatsu? Much like XC1/2, the game still LARPs as both an MMO (main combat) and a turn-based game (chain attacks). Yet, in a complete turnaround from those two whose combat actively annoyed me, I’d be hard-pressed to find another non-turn-based JRPG combat system that I fuck with this hard.

I’m definitely of the opinion that prior Xenoblade games have had hugely underwhelming combat, but was never able (or just couldn’t be bothered trying) to articulate why. XC3’s aggressive polish and iteration on the past games’ combat made it blindingly obvious why that is in hindsight. It makes a bunch of changes and improvements, both major and minor. But if I had to boil it down, it comes down to three changes at its core: Character building, role-influenced customization, and in-battle control.

SUBSECTION 1: CHARACTER BUILDING
I’ll start with character building, since this is where the pre-battle strategizing comes into play. Let’s talk Job Systems. Everyone loves a good Job System, and for good reason. However, as someone who loves both job systems and defined character roles in JRPG combat, I often find myself at odds with the seemingly inherent tradeoff these systems present. Job systems let you go ham with customizing each character into exactly what you want them to be. But defined character roles also let the personality behind the character shine through by restricting them to a certain archetype. XC3 basically looked at the inherent conflict of this tradeoff and said, “you dumbasses realize you can just do both, right?” Like, it's actually insane how effortlessly this game dismantles the conflict while maintaining the unique strengths and personality found in both styles of character building.

Customization. Twenty-fucking-five classes. 25 classes to unlock. To learn the inner-workings and individual strengths of. To experiment within.To grind and train. To utilize in conjunction with other classes’ master arts through fusion art combinations, as well as synergizing with your plethora of other skills/accessories/gems/etc. Each with their own entirely unique take on the surface level attack-tank-healer designation. Five unique arts, one talent art, and four skills which grow stronger as you increase your class level. Two of those arts and two of those skills then go on to transfer outside the class in the form of master arts/skills, with the talent art being a fifth once you max out a given class. Any of which can be used alongside another class of opposing Agnian / Kevesi designation.

Oh (x1), and the hero which coincides with the class they unlock has several of their own completely unique arts on top of that, meaning you’ll further deliberate whether to use a certain hero or equip their respective dress-class on an Ouroboros depending on the circumstances. Oh (x2), this doesn’t even include the Soul Tree which is used to customize each of your Ouroboros Interlinks with various upgradable arts, stat bonuses, etc. Oh (x3), AND the Soul Hacker class works completely independently of these rules, serving as a blue mage who gains skills upon the defeat of unique monsters. At full power, this class boasts SIXTY-FUCKING-FIVE unique and completely upgradable arts, as opposed to the typical five arts. Additionally, there are SEVENTY-FUCKING-NINE skills spanning all three role archetypes from which you can mix and match. What the actual shit, dude. No, seriously, how did this game even get finished, let alone reverse-delayed? Anyway, whoever greenlit this class, I love them almost as much as I love Triton himself. Oh (x4), AND the upcoming DLC hero Ino also seems to work separately from every other hero, running on ether cylinders to guide her own unique method of customization. Idk, it looks like some Poppi shit, so I’m immediately sold, necc aside. Tiger Tiger sequel when.

SUBSECTION 2: ROLE DEFINITION
Role definition. Despite the absurd level of character build customization, XC3 maintains a surprisingly rigid sense of character role definition. This is achieved through a bunch of different means, such as: The Keves/Agnus split, role definition through individual job affinities/inheritors, master arts and talent arts, master skills, and the rigid role definition/consideration present in interlinking by trading off whatever two roles the pairing might possess in lieu of the rigid role of their respective Ouroboros interlink.

Once chain attacks come into the mix, the game doubles down on this role rigidity even further. Each character (including heroes) is given their own distinct baseline TP distribution, Chain Order, and Ouroboros order. Speaking of heroes, they too get their very own hero chain bonus on top of their likewise distinct Chain Order. These hero chain bonuses range from providing bonuses to the damage ratio, boosting individual TP, boosting party TP (even specific character boosts i.e. MIyabi to Mio), monster-specific bonuses, reviving inactive members, buffing/debuffing, healing, and so on. It’s genuinely nuts how much distinctiveness and role definition is maintained in each character’s combat capabilities (both Ouroboros and heroes) despite the former having just been described to have such insanely unrestrained customization options.

I’m not sure if Monolith INTENDED to have such ludonarrative cohesion in this double-sided customization system, or they just thought it’d be cool and it ended up working out that way. But man, the whole "Best of Both Worlds" motif (while most of the time refers to the game taking what worked from XC1 and XC2 and using them harmoniously) seems to permeate EVERY facet of XC3. To the point where it has the best of both worlds of a job system and rigid role definition- something that I quite literally did not think was possible until playing this game. Oh, and you can’t forget to respect the drip. Yumsmith Sena sweeps.

SUBSECTION 3: COMBAT ANALYSIS AND PLAYER CONTROL
Moving on from customization and into the actual meat of the combat itself, it’s fun. Like, REALLY fun. The setup again inherits this "Best of Both Worlds" motif, as it reflects both the six character setup from XC2 (drivers and active blades included), while otherwise reverting to XC1’s initial setup of everyone being a direct and controllable contributor. Considering there are now twice as many party members acting concurrently, I cannot stress this enough: This is absolute fucking chaos. Like, it’s chaotic to the point where if someone were to casually walk by a XC3 battle without any prior knowledge, the only plausible response would be, “what the fuck am I looking at?” Six characters (plus a hero) painting a monster in countless numbers. FF12 lookin ass lines connecting you to each monster depicting the current status of their aggro and the subsequent relationship/priority. The most fucked up looking Venn diagrams you’ve ever seen in your life in the form of field buffs scattered beneath your feet. Ten of the like fifty different symbols for buffs, debuffs, awakening, shackles, combos, ailments, etc cycling in and out next to each character and the monster you’re fighting. Your characters suddenly transform into fucking fusion robots and all that information is replaced with an entirely new set of skills and an overheat bar. Oh, and then time stops and the entire combat system changes as you initiate a chain attack.

So yeah, someone walking by has every right in the world to wonder what the fuck you’re doing if they’re unfamiliar with XC3’s combat. That said, considering the way this game paces out each of its multifaceted mechanics in such a gradual and easily understandable way, it is extremely rare that you’ll be playing and not know EXACTLY what is going on at all times. Seriously, I can’t stress enough how impressive it is that they manage to actually make this combat make sense, and yet they knocked it out of the park.

Trying to take in so much information at once while it’s constantly changing is already more than engaging enough to stay interesting for a game as long as this. But now, tack onto all of that the fact you can now change between characters at ANY MOMENT. Without a cooldown or any other sort of restriction. This alone takes XC3’s combat from what would already be a rather engaging system to unfathomably stimulating and hectic. In the more intense/challenging boss battles, it quickly becomes adrenaline incarnate. Apparently, Torna took the first step in this direction by allowing you to swap between your three party members on a cooldown, but here, you can swap between any of the SIX party members as quickly and frequently as you want.

It might not sound like a huge deal, since you still aren’t controlling all six of them at once, and thus a majority of the combat at any given moment is controlled by AI. That may still be true, but it’s a complete and utter game-changer when it comes to the player’s engagement and their potential for strategic influence. In past games, you control one party member, and once their arts are depleted, you’re stuck doing fuck all but using auto-attack. So you’re stuck there slapping at the enemy for 50 damage every few seconds until you can fight properly again. In XC3 though, the second a character’s arts are depleted, you switch to the next one and can start thinking on-the-fly to quickly make use of whatever tools they have available in the most efficient way possible. This might not make a monumental difference in how the battle goes about playing out, but thankfully the AI is stupid enough to actually merit shuffling around your active party member and doing as much on your own as possible. But above all else, you’re no longer stuck waiting for a shitty cooldown and constantly have your hands full of different ways to influence the fight. Put aside the customization and job system for a moment- THIS alone is an absolute goddamn game-changer.

SUBSECTION 4: MORE SINGLE-FIGHT GIMMICKS WOULD’VE BEEN NICE THO
To sneak in a small area of disappointment, I definitely would’ve liked to see more unique gimmicks or “puzzle” elements to bosses. If not in gameplay, then even just in the action cinematics would’ve been nice. There are definitely rumblings of this in the early game cinematics, specifically up through Chapter 4. Then, with the joint boss fight sequence between Consul N and Consul M, it finally comes to a head. Consul M has a completely unique Moebius power that takes the party a bit to figure out a solution for- and the solution itself was very clever and satisfying.

Even if we aren’t given the super nitty-gritty specifics of how it works, it’s clear that the Mondo was able to track M’s movements due to her and its ether properties as a Blade. Whether this is through ether displacement, propensity for tracking ether sensitivity, or ether absorption, it’s not clear. However, this is supported by the group’s first battle at Gura Flava. Eunie is able to disable Taion’s Mondo tag by filling it with enough ether to overload/overheat it. As an Agnian, M fights through ether properties as well. As such, it makes perfect sense that the Mondo, which can either sense, absorb, or disrupt that flow of ether, would be a perfect counter to the Moebius ability. This even shows tactical development on the part of Taion, who was only able to figure out this solution because of the way Eunie countered him earlier in the game.

To tie this back into that complaint I alluded to… This is basically the first and last time you’ll see anything like this in-game. Z has something similar sorta kinda, given that it’s another multiphase fight which sees your party splitting up and being supported by the various heroes. But it’s never a “puzzle” for you to figure out. It’s not something that will make you fundamentally reassess your game plan and fight under a completely different strategic pretense. I definitely expected more of this sort of thing from the end-game bosses. For example, the fight against D and Joran was a phenomenal opportunity for this that was totally squandered.

I’m not exactly sure HOW they’d go about doing it, since the combat is strictly set up so that attacking the enemy is basically your only means of interacting with them. But the conflicting nature of the fight could’ve done so well to set up a scenario where, for example: Joran is focusing his Interlink overheat, and thus you have to fend off fodder and protect him in the process. Then, D regains control, and you quickly shift to beating the shit out of him as much as possible. Stuff like that would’ve done a lot to make the more important boss fights feel mechanically distinct, which they simply don’t. That’s not to say they’re boring or anything, since again, XC3’s combat is more than capable of utterly carrying. But it still would’ve been better to see more of this sort of thing.

SUBSECTION 5: CHAIN ATTACKS, MISC. THOUGHTS,. AND CONCLUSION
Lastly, I’d like to talk a bit more about chain attacks. XC3’s chain attacks also manage to capture the "Best of Both Worlds" motif that nearly everything else in the game also seems to. They’re both cathartic in terms of their strategic depth to execute, while also being cathartic in the most mindless monke brain “victory lap” way I can possibly think of. That second one especially, the way it eggs you on with the instantly iconic chain attack music to the point you cannot feel anything other than utter conviction and triumph as it unfolds.

Even if you activate it with your entire party’s HP in the red and the boss still has 8.9 trillion remaining HP out of 9 trillion total (which is usually the case!), you can’t help but feel pure catharsis and hope during the duration of that chain attack. Well, that only lasts until you pick the wrong art and then the shit RNG gives you a healer on your random pick cuz you had to finish with an attacker… motherfucker. Anyway, the fact that it somehow manages to be both strategically cathartic and viscerally mindless in such a careful balance is yet another example of this game defying the odds to capture the "Best of Both Worlds" in one fell swoop.

Beyond chain attacks, there are plenty of smaller points to praise about the combat. For example, I love how combos can be built up with either offensive or defensive intentions/planning in mind. Launch-Smash combos provide extra damage at the cost of accelerating an enemies’ enrage status, whereas Daze-Burst combos provide an incapacitation window for your party to stabilize while also quelling rage for a short period of time. Another point worth mentioning goes back to customization; I love the sheer quantity of possibilities when it comes to fusion art combinations. You can do anything from double-advancing a combo (break w/ topple master art, launch w/ smash master art, etc), enhancing your smash effect by pairing it with a high damage ratio master art, pairing aggro reduction with a powerful heal to stay hidden, pairing aggro increase with a long form block art for efficient tanking, and so on. The fusion art system is incredibly simple, but could not be more elegantly incorporated. It boasts an absurd level of customization for those who really want to sink their teeth into making Agnian and Kevesi arts synergize in creative ways. I know I’m a broken record at this point, but again, taking the "Best of Both Worlds" and getting something new (and better) out of them.

For the sake of time, plus the fact that the rest of XC3’s combat depth is mostly similar to how it was in past games, I’ll wrap it up here. But yeah, considering how ambivalent I’ve been to prior Xenoblade games’ combat, the improvements made here and the way they salvaged the ongoing foundation of Xenoblade combat into something this good is nothing short of miraculous. I tend to be a fan of turn-based combat first and everything else second. But in the level of engagement, strategy, and customization found in XC3’s combat system, you’d be hard-pressed arguing against it being truly second to none.

CHAPTER 3 - The Methodically Unmethodical World Design of Aionios
(WORLD SETTING, SECTION 1: How XC3’s World, Map Design, and Aesthetics are Physically and Symbolically Informed by the Merge)

So clearly the combat benefits from the literal and symbolic Merge of XC1 and XC2 as much as anything. What about the World? Well… no, not at all. I should probably come right out and say that, across the Xenoblade Chronicles trilogy, XC3’s world is far and away the least impressive from a purely aesthetic standpoint… at least in terms of surface-level allure. The game has huge, sprawling vistas filled with secrets just like the prior games, but something about the world setting doesn’t feel nearly as aesthetically dynamic or even as methodical compared to the likes of Bionis or Alrest.

This was actually a huge point of criticism I held through the early hours of the game, which I worried might keep me from truly loving it overall. Like I’ve mentioned already, exploring huge imaginative environments while listening to the various field themes was what appealed to me most about the series prior to XC3. But compared to the likes of XC1’s Gaur Plains, Eryth Sea/Alcamoth, and Satori Marsh? XC2’s Uraya or the World Tree? I simply did not find any of the biggest zones in XC3 were anywhere near this aesthetically stimulating or inspired. Well, until the Cadensia Region, which was phenomenal, albeit a serious outlier. Point being, the likes of Millick Meadows and Eagus Wilderness simply did not do it for me.

Are they pretty? Yes. Were they “Xenoblade pretty”? No. At least, not in the way a longtime fan would come to expect. Thankfully, what I’ve come to realize about the world design of Aionios over the course of my playthrough is… I’m pretty sure this was intentional. Or maybe I’m coping. Probably both tbh. This is the main meat and potatoes of my thoughts on Aionios, so I’ll leave it for the end of this chapter. Before then, let’s talk about why I found (and still do to some extent, tbh) the major zones so initially disappointing.

SUBSECTION 1: SHORTCOMINGS OF AIONIOS
Don’t get me wrong, even the more aesthetically “”boring”” zones do still look nice. Each one is filled with varying amounts of distinguishing quirks or landmarks, and overall serve their purpose well. My favorite zone from the early game would have to be the southern Fornis Region. Each part of the region on its own isn't anything too noteworthy. Well, aside from the Dannagh Desert, which looks fantastic on its own. But the way they coalesce while maintaining distinct and rigidly segmented areas make it far stronger aesthetically than the sum of its parts. The rigidity of its visual theming alone makes it super memorable. I can’t really think of another Xenoblade environment that puts as much emphasis on aesthetic segmentation as this one does. It also boasts a surprising amount of verticality (albeit mostly gradual “sloped” verticality). This actually speaks to another major point of criticism I have about the bulk of XC3’s massive open zones: They’re more than sizable enough, but they’re mostly flat and lacking in both the verticality and interconnectivity needed to compromise their lengthy traversal time.

The flatness of XC3’s zones certainly bodes well for making them LOOK big and sprawling, but it only serves to inevitably sap the enthusiasm you have for exploring these lands thoroughly. I’m the type of player who avoids minimaps and fast travel like the Plague. Familiarizing myself with an area and learning its map is something I find extremely fun and satisfying. In XC3, though, I pretty quickly caved in and started fast traveling for the back-and-forth quests, especially fetch quests. Not because I don’t ENJOY traversal in this game, but because it’s blindingly apparent that it needed so much more to not make this a total pain in the ass.

The game probably could’ve gotten away without having sprinting if the maps were as tall as they were wide, but they just… aren’t. It takes way too long to get anywhere. Oh, and those little ladder shortcuts it sneaks in are, more often than not, completely futile at providing any sort of respite to the tedium of traversal. Hell, they even fail to simply compliment the map design in any sort of clever or helpful way.

This is the crux of my complaint: XC3 does not have significant enough traversal upgrades to match the size and layout of its maps. It’s lacking here, plain and simple. Sprinting, high jumping, gliding, flying, soft landings from high grounds, rentable Levnises, Interlink on the field for a quick vertical boost… This game is in desperate need of ANY single one of these. I haven’t played XCX, but knowing you get giant fucking Skells to fly around in makes this even more readily apparent. Not to mention… that knowledge kinda takes away from the coolness of getting a boat later on in this game. I like the boat, but… It’s not a giant robot, that’s for sure. Can’t say I wouldn’t have preferred to get even just a fleet of rentable Levnises or some shit instead. The autorun keeps it from being a SERIOUS problem, but that doesn’t change the fact it could’ve been much better.

XC3’s world design does still have its fair share of strengths. Admittedly, they mostly tie into worldbuilding which I’ll focus more on later, but the physicality and map design also play a part in these strengths. The Dannagh Desert’s flying whales and pink-gem palm trees felt refreshingly oddball compared to the theming of prior areas. The previously mentioned rigid segmentation of Southern Fornis was another highlight- in no small part because of the aesthetic contrast it provided with the adjacent and verdant Ribbi Flats.

SUBSECTION 2: ENVIRONMENTAL STORYTELLING
Perhaps the biggest draw in terms of XC3’s world design relates to its interconnectivity; namely, the inherent mystique generated by the Merge as you encounter more and more areas which resemble the likes of Bionis, Mechonis, and Alrest- especially seeing them after having been reduced to ruin. It does give you a bit too obvious of a push at recognizing this early on. Hell, the box art literally having Uraya and the Mechonis Sword was uh, not exactly subtle. Not to say it was MEANT to be subtle, but hey, still. Additionally, many of the names/titles are retained from prior games.

But aside from that, it’s accomplished entirely through exploration and environmental storytelling. I absolutely loved this approach. Despite the obvious brilliance of past Xenoblade game’s worlds, I can’t recall any point where environmental storytelling was used to prod you with hints at the still unknown lore, mysteries, and ongoing narrative. Hell, the prodding even worms its way into the game’s soundtrack (through field themes, mostly). The near constant use of callbacks and leitmotif of XC1/2 areas never once got old and always kept me on guard looking for more audio-centric hints.

There are examples of environmental storytelling across the entirety of Aionios, so I won’t bother listing a dozen examples. I will say, though, the delayed realization that I could LITERALLY CLIMB up the destroyed Mechonis’ arm up to its fingertip and cannonball back down into the lake below was one of the most memorable moments of exploration in any Xenoblade game.

SUBSECTION 3: SPECIFIC REGION CRITIQUE (AKA THE ROAST OF MILLICK MEADOWS)
There are definitely some great individual regions, such as the Cadensia Region like I mentioned earlier. This region is basically just a Wind Waker sequel built straight into an already incredible game. Cuz why the fuck not. Like, Queen’s BEANS man. It feels like half my playtime was spent exploring that one region alone. And you better believe that Yasunori Mitsuda field theme certainly contributed to that… Probably my favorite song in the entire game ngl. On the opposite end of the open zone spectrum, though, we have Milick Meadows.

Milick Meadows was an extremely rare example during XC3 where there wasn’t much sugarcoating it- I felt abject disappointment without much of a silver lining to counteract it whatsoever. Let’s start with the- er, single positive. The field theme is phenomenal. But tbh, that just made how underwhelming this area was in reality hurt even more. Let’s frame the moments leading up to you discovering it. You’ve just finished the intensely cryptic Gura Flava sequence. You’re finally ready to begin your journey after having assembled your party. You have more questions about the game’s events up to this point than you know what to do with. Then, you’re immediately set free out into the game’s next big zone: Millick Meadows.

This was all the motivation I needed to start exploring to find out as much about this world and the events that transpired as possible. Unfortunately, the near (but not quite) Gaur Plains tier field theme is where the positives begin and end with Milick Meadows. Basically, you descend the hill, go across the river, and head out into the next area. That’s it. Oh, and you activate a Ferronis husk and can go get killed by overpowered bats in the nearby cave if you want… Seriously? You can’t tease me with what looks to be Gaur Plains 2.0 and have it only be a 30-minute linear ass excursion. This place should’ve been like… ten times bigger at the BARE minimum. I know that sounds like overkill, but just look at the Cadensia Region. There was nothing stopping them from making Milick Meadows truly reflect the freedom that Ouroboros was just granted following Guernica’s sacrifice. The disappointment even gets doubled down upon later when you realize the ability gating opened up an entire new section of the map to explore… Wow, maybe this was a misdirection? Maybe they wanted a delayed reaction sort of approach to its scope? Nah. It’s still tiny as fuck with barely anything cool to do or see. But enough roasting the poor little Meadows. Let’s move to the biggest point I want to make about Aionios as a world setting.

SUBSECTION 4: JUSTIFYING THE SHORTCOMINGS OF AIONIOS THROUGH THE THEMATIC IMPLICATIONS OF THE MERGE
Anyway, back to the biggest takeaway for this chapter. The thing about XC3’s world setting I took the biggest issue with (even above some of the areas not being themed interestingly) was this: The environments felt paradoxically visually cluttered and messy, while also having very little in the way of aesthetic inspiration. In contrast to prior examples, the "Best of Both Worlds" motif here feels a lot more like the “Worst of Both Worlds”.

However, come the end of the game, it becomes abundantly clear that this was intentional. It’s only natural that the violent Merge, which essentially equated to apocalypse for both worlds, would leave Aionios as a primarily tattered wasteland with some rather fucked up geometry (further emphasized by the Annihilation Event). On top of that though, it almost seems like the more standard theming of most areas was intentional as well, though I’m… not sure why, exactly? The biggest zones which house the main story content are often relegated to aesthetically standard renditions of fields, desert, sea, mountains, etc. Now, these areas are still impressive and beautiful due to their huge scale. But it’s clearly a far different approach from XC1/XC2. Like I said before, they’re pretty, just not “Xenoblade pretty”.

On the contrary, it’s in XC3’s secret areas tucked away from the external outside world where that trademark Xenoblade inventiveness shines through into the world setting. Lost Colony, Cotte Fountainhead, and Malevolent Hollow are easily among the most aesthetically distinctive locales in any Xenoblade title. This design philosophy is applied way too consistently across the whole game to just be a coincidence, at least in my mind. Areas to the effect of the three I just listed are almost exclusively found in secret caves far off the path from the main zones. So… what’s the deal with this approach? I mean, it literally might’ve been just to make stumbling onto a secret area feel more special. But with this game, the answer is rarely that simple. Especially since, yknow, I can’t really see them making a sacrifice to the giant zones which take up 90% of the map just for an occasional pleasant surprise. That said, I do have something of a guess to justify- or at least explain the logic behind their approach.

Aionios having such a strange design quirk gives off the impression that these secret areas were sheltered from the proverbial “impact” of the Merge. As such, they retained their luster- and therefore, their sense of aesthetic identity. This does beg the question, though; why would the two Worlds merging be detrimental to the broad visual inventiveness of Aionios’ world design? Honestly, this is where I’m sort of at a loss on the matter. Especially since it seems to be at odds with the game’s design philosophy in nearly every other regard: Merging the "Best of Both Worlds" in order to create something new and greater.

Maybe they first tried to approach the world in this way by designing even more chaotic and messy environments, but decided the messiness needed to be dialed back in? I’m not really sure, and would love to get some outside input on this because I’m stumped as hell tbh. Personally, I would’ve loved to see them go full on clusterpunk by mashing together multiple different themes and color palettes (possibly derived straight from 1 and 2’s areas) into one new environment. Maybe even just in a few specific areas rather than every area in the game. If not just for the sake of avoiding this approach becoming paradoxically more homogenized in the sense that it would apply to everywhere.

Quite honestly, even as someone who places huge importance on a game’s aesthetic sensibilities (hell, I consider XC1 at LEAST a strong 7/10 based almost entirely on its setting and music alone), I do still like this game’s unconventional approach to world design. Despite the originality of this subversion, though, one still needs to consider if this falls under the “just because a subversion is intentional doesn’t make it good” umbrella of consideration. I WANT to deny this notion outright, but even after learning all the narrative context behind the intent, I’m still finding myself hesitant.

Would I have preferred the entire setting to be more oddball with its theming and color palette similar to, like, Xenoblade X or something? …Honestly, yeah. Probably. Especially when you consider that this game repeatedly capitalizes on its "Best of Both Worlds" motif in so many other facets. That said, I can't say I've ever seen a game with such a bold and narratively-resonant subversion through its aesthetic and world design alone. Even if the sacrifice to its visual inventiveness was a bit beyond what I would’ve liked, it is worth praising the effort and paradoxical inventiveness anyway.

CHAPTER 4 - HOW TO CREATE A DYNAMIC AND THEMATICALLY INTEGROUS WORLD SETTING THROUGH… FORMULAIC MILITARY CAMPS (NO, REALLY, IT WORKS. TRUST ME).
(WORLD SETTING, SECTION 2: Introduction and Analysis of the Colony System)

Even within the context of individual nation’s provinces, every single colony in XC3 is shockingly memorable and distinct. I think the reason the colony variety impresses me so much is due to the surface-level rigidity of XC3’s structure and gameplay loop. Put simply: you explore, discover (insert colony name here), talk to its people and commander, fight the commander, fight the Consul, liberate the colony, help them survive without the Consul, Rinse and repeat. Clearly, the repetition of this cycle is dangerously primed for monotony. Especially since there’s, what, over 25 named colonies in total? Not to say you explore every single one, but it should be apparent that this game had the cards stacked against it in this regard.

Yet, every last colony is shockingly distinct and memorable. Depending on the colony’s adjacent environments and geography, there are so many different roles and jobs that prop up across Aionios. For example, the farmers in Colony 9 and Tau. Specialty mechanics and Levnis transporters from Colony 30. Collectopedia managers and resource transport from Colony Iota. The conspiratorial war intermediaries of Colony 0. Pirates and Fishermen of Colony 15. Plus the different variations of florists, farmers, and saffronia harvesters found in Colony Mu and the Lost Colony. And so on. Aionios’ dynamic geography plays such a crucial role in the jobs and specializations of each colony. In turn, this plays a huge part in why the world setting feels like a vast, living, breathing world- in a way no other Xenoblade game has ever accomplished prior.

It would’ve been SO easy for Monolith Soft to fall back on the phenomenal combat and job customization, merely having the World serve as a more undercooked or understated backdrop to your exploration of Aionios. Countless games take this easy route as a tradeoff for being a “huge 100+ hour experience” at the cost of none of its locales being developed, memorable, or, well… Interesting. Yet, much like it does in countless other aspects, XC3 manages to provide “the Best of Both Worlds” in this respect. The game is unfathomably long, and yet, each and every colony manages to be deeply memorable and distinct.

They’re not just memorable and distinct in terms of the characters present or the aesthetic backdrop, either. Every single facet of the World Setting feeds into each respective colony in a way that makes the world of Aionios feel distinctly and unmistakably… alive. Each and every colony has their own side quests, geography, culture, history, import needs, export specialization, intercolony relationships, politics, military strengths, technological capabilities, internal and external priorities, and so on.

This isn’t even getting into the fact that each Colony has its own Consul, along with an entirely unique set of character relationships with said Consul, the Consul’s relationship with the Colony itself, different roles, different levels of presence, different motivations- different means to which they propagate the Endless Now… All of which culminate in an entirely memorable and distinct story arc within every single Colony you come across.

Naturally, the story arcs which define these colonies all play out in VASTLY different ways for the most part. Even if a majority of them end with the final story beat of Noah smashing the Flame Clock and bringing liberation. Besides, this sort of HAD to be the case anyway. Not just for hugely important thematic purposes (revolving around the implications of intercolony unification, Ouroboros’ journey to self-discovery and purpose, etc). But also for the sake of gameplay logistics as well. After all, you wouldn’t be able to get much done in terms of exploring characters or worldbuilding within a Colony that still actively hates you and is still indoctrinated in Moebius propaganda.

Speaking of which, the Moebius-enforced “ranking” system also does a fantastic job at framing these various distinguishing factors. It often serves as a literal determinant, for example, the lower-rank colonies being undersupplied, which can cause a ton of different problems. But even in a subsurface sense, this ranking system fuels their conspiratorial edge beneath the surface via the illustrious but ultimately disingenuous Gold rank. It is through Moebius’ colony ranking system that their homogenization and depersonalization efforts are carried out. This is done to offset the perceived individuality, and thus humanity, of enemy colonies.

After all, it’s easier to buy into destroying another group for personal gain when it’s either you or them, right? That goes doubly so when, to you, the enemy is defined by just two things: A resource through which you can provide for your friends and comrades, and as a generic slate of soldiers which are defined by their Rank and the propaganda you’ve been fed on their faction. This ranking system alone effectively throws a veil of depersonalization over the enemy, and as such, plays a crucial role in maintaining soldier morale in the ongoing war.

As such, it becomes far easier for Moebius to morph the truth of what defines that colony (the laundry list of distinguishing factors which make them unique that we just went over) into whatever supports their propaganda. The way Moebius oversees soldier manipulation through propagandized “motivation” can even be roughly likened to propagandist justification of genocide in order to garner domestic support and pride. Nurturing and capitalizing on bigotry through propaganda, miscategorization of the enemy, and “slaughter as self-defense”. The methodology isn’t identical, and I’m definitely not an expert on the subject by any means. But it brought enough similarities in mind that I felt it worth mentioning.

As a final point about Moebius to end the chapter, the colony format perfectly supports their conspiracy in a pragmatic sense as well. The entire World of Aionios and all of its inhabitants (save for the nation-ambivalent City) are overseen by Moebius from within Origin. They specifically seek to lock the two factions in a war which neither could hope to win, in order to propagate the Endless Now. Therefore, it would only make sense for Moebius to provide “homogenized” colonies (in structure but also in perception through propaganda). On the surface, these colonies all serve the same purpose. They’re all manipulated into conflict through the same means. And they all receive the highly-motivating Castle aid (food, weapons, tools, ether, etc) in correspondence to their colony rank.

CHAPTER 5 - SO MANY COLONIES AAAAAAAAAA
(WORLD SETTING, SECTION 3: Analysis of Colonies in XC3)

As for the specifics as broken down by colony, it’d probably be easiest to just go down the line. There is quite a lot to each colony and their respective Heroes, so getting to all of them would just be overkill. But I’ll try to hit on SOME of the colonies along with their most important and distinguishing characteristics:

Colony 9: Otherwise known as Aionios 2022 Farming Simulator. Led by Commander Zeon. This is the first colony you’ll visit properly in XC3. It’s a compact garrison surrounded by the vast Yzana Plain on all sides. Following the inexplicable disappearance of Noah, Lanz, and Eunie, the previous commander steps down, resulting in a leadership crisis. The people turn to Zeon as the most suitable candidate, but much like Bolearis of Colony 4, he and a few vocal dissenters remain hesitant in his capabilities. No, I’m not going to name any names. Cough. Cough cough.

Bolearis’ lack of confidence stems from his inability to replace his legendary predecessor Silvercoat Ethel. Especially after having been abruptly swept into the role in response to her death. Zeon of Colony 9’s lack of confidence, however, is derived from the guilt he harbors in having authorized the destruction of Colony 9’s Flame Clock. Despite the colonies’ dwindling capacity for self-subsistence being out of his control, he still takes responsibility for the outcome they’ve found themselves stuck with. His people are starving from limited rations, they lack leadership and direction, and the cliques are beginning to lean further and further towards desertion.

As such, the outset of Colony 9’s narrative is rather bleak- as most things in XC3 tend to be initially before eventually morphing into hopefully optimism. Following their collaboration with Colony Tau, Colony 9 ends up having one of the most drastic turnarounds of any colony. To the point where its later quests and community dialogue become surprisingly lighthearted and optimistic. Thanks to the insight of Yuzuriha, commander of Colony Tau, Zeon leads the effort to incorporate their growth patterns of the spongy spud, a crop native to Tau’s Maktha Highlands.

Due to the Spongy Spud’s short germination window and high yield, it completely turns Colony 9’s food shortage on its head. Along with the fact that its people actually have something to do (tending the fields), this greatly increases morale and stability. It’s a pretty simple story, but the way it encapsulates XC3’s theme of societal unification, especially since it features Kevesi/Agnian collaboration, is extremely effective. Plus, like, these two are just really fucking cute, okay? Gimme spud buds DLC right now, please and ty.

Colony Gamma: Led by Commander Shido. As the other active (living) colony within the lower Aetia Region, Colony Gamma is rather close in proximity to Colony 9. Otherwise, it’s completely different. This extends beyond the Keves/Agnus dichotomy, and is most notably distinguished by its geography and layout. Where Colony 9 is deep in the canyon of the Yzana Plains, Gamma is high in the floating autumn mountains. Despite being spread horizontally similar to 9, Gamma is far less dense, featuring a large lake and dedicated training ground for soldiers and Levnises alike. Lastly, its amber-laden trees extend far into the sky, a backdrop which is completely unlike any other Colonies’. The way Ouroboros interacts with the colony is also quite different to Colony 9. Instead of doing the work yourself, you simply instruct them on how to better protect themselves. With Colony 9, you help connect Zeon with Colony Tau, gather the farming materials, and protect the fields from monsters firsthand. In Colony Gamma, you simply help Shido in training the Gamma soldiers to better prepare them in fending for themselves.

Colony 4: Led by Commander Ethel, later Acting Commander Bolearis. It’s larger, giving off the impression that it’s more like a residential outpost than the previous two colonies. It’s smack dab in the middle of the sprawling hot Eagus Wilderness in both directions (from Millick Meadows to Ribbi Plains). As such, the colony feels far more like an intermediary or proxy zone born out of geographical necessity. This “proxy” status is further emphasized by its status smack-dab between the Agnian Colony Iota and Kevesi Colony 30, both of whom Colony 4 cooperates with as a proxy, given that Iota resents 30 from their defeat in a prior battle.

Colony 4 also marks your first exposure to the colony ranking system, as they are demoted harshly from Silver Rank (second highest, 2nd tier) to Dirt Rank (lowest, 7th tier). This demotion was a message- a response to Ethel’s refusal to kill Cammunabi in their first encounter. It’s rather admirable to see how some of the colony continues to back their commander, despite the toll her decisions have taken on their quality of life. The demotion alone forced its people to expand their hunting route into dangerous and uncomfortably distant territory, alongside stricter rationing. Their Consul support and Castle aid is scaled back considerably as a result.

Not to mention, regarding those supplies from Keves Castle (which were already far more limited in both quantity and quality), Consul K used both emotional and iris manipulation to force them into attacking Ouroboros in order to earn the supplies. And after this fails, Moebius takes this threat to its furthest extreme by involving the lives of everyone within Colony 4 via the Kevesi Annihilator. Ethel’s aforementioned “free” actions are also quite effective at priming the player for one of the game’s broader themes- the importance of free-will.

This action then comes to a head during Ethel’s dramatic final clash with Cammunabi in the Maktha Wildwood. A bit of an unrelated thought, but: The way this battle clearly parallels the battle between Bionis and Mechonis feels very pointed, if not a bit on the nose. I really dig the implications in hindsight that their “death by design” achieved through resisting Moebius is a glimpse into true causality. Naturally, the battle between Bionis and Mechonis exists within the natural flow of causality. So for this spirit to be made manifest as they craft a truly meaningful “death by design”, not to mention happening right between both Ouroboros and Moebius is fantastic. It basically serves as the “Crys Death” equivalent for Ouroboros as a whole, rather than just Noah. It strengths their resolve, prodding them to ask questions about the path they must take and the sacrifice it may require.

As one last disjointed thought: Ironically, Ethel actually saved the lives of everyone in Colony 4 by choosing to spare Cammunabi in their first bout. We learn in Eunie’s Side Story that she had a friendly rivalry (camaraderie may be more accurate, I suppose) with Colony 5’s late Commander Orsoyla. Their respective colony accolades mirrored one another to the point where their individual Rank promotions came one after the other. Considering Orsolya’s recent promotion to Gold Rank (and, well, we know what that entails) and Ethel’s demotion as a result of her refusal to kill Cammunabi, it’s safe to assume their fate would’ve soon followed. It’s a rather understated truth, but one that I really appreciated. Particularly because of how it falls comfortably in line with the game’s encouragement of defiance in the pursuit of free-will.

Colony 30: Led by Commander Yuz- uh, I mean Rudi. A haven for Levnis engineering and mechanics in general. And uh, Nopon I guess. It’s relatively compact like Colony 9, but instead of residing within green plains, Colony 30 appropriately rests atop steel girders high above a lake reservoir within a mountain range. My favorite thing about Colony 30 lies in its specification. This mechanical specification is immediately apparent from the second you step foot inside for the first time. Levnises surround the front gates and line the inner perimeter, serving as both security and commissions for adjacent colonies. That’s right, in much the same way Colony 4 serves as something of a proxy zone due to the practicality of its location, Colony 30 is a proxy due to its production and quick delivery of Levnis commissions and repairs. As such, it serves as a mobile hub which mirrors a small-scale production of the sort of thing you see later on in the Keves Castle factory.

CHAPTER 6 - THERE’S STILL HOW MANY MORE COLONIES??
(WORLD SETTING, SECTION 4: Miscellaneous Colony Analysis)

So uhhhh bit of a confession here. I did plan on going into detail on ALL colonies, since they do all deserve substantial credit and a moment in the spotlight. But… I’ll be real with you, the Xenoblade wiki is kinda just straight up hot ass. It barely has anything written about XC3 whatsoever, let alone XC1/2. Not throwing shade at the contributors or anything, but there definitely isn’t enough there to serve as a jumping off point for the purposes of analysis. Maybe I’m just spoiled by the Kiseki Wiki. But still, there’s something to say about the fact that the Kiseki wiki has more written about the validity of a random Liberlian journalist's birthdate than the Xenoblade Wiki does on entire main characters. Well, anyway. Because of that, I think I’ll just quickly throw a few more miscellaneous defining factors of these colonies from memory and leave it there.

AGNIAN COLONIES: Colony Tau operated largely through self-subsistence, having adapted their own entirely distinct subculture. After liberation, its citizens migrate across the map to various other colonies in order to expand their horizons and seek out their own unique place in the world. Colony Mu’s Consul doesn’t even make them fight, and holds an incredibly unique dynamic with its people through her past life as Ichika. Similarly, the Lost Colony doesn’t fight AND is built on top of the ruins of an old Castle. Plus Nami stuff, but we’ll get to it in the Taion chapter.

KEVESI COLONIES: Colony 5 isn’t as fleshed out, other than Commander Orsoyla and Ethel being longtime friends and competitors. However, it still provided the stage for the massively important revelation of the Gold Rank conspiracy. Colony 11 has the unique honor of being a direct subsidiary of Keves Castle, as it is stationed directly next door. The accompanying unique circumstances play directly into the party’s proceeding raid on the Castle. Colony 15’s Consul T doesn’t give a flying fuck, as he’s just a demensia-ridden DILF pirate fisherman who betrays Moebius to free himself and his crew- letting them go do their thing while he goes adventuring with the party. Also, his father-daughter relationship with Fiona is the cutest shit ever conceived by humanity. No, I’m not exaggerating for the 500th time, I would never.

In short, the way these colonies are distinguished from one another is phenomenally impressive. It is admittedly true that you deal with the majority of colonies you come across in the same surface level manner. They’re often faced with similar struggles; for example, lacking resources, unsent comrades, ideological uncertainty resulting from their sudden and newfound freedom, etc. But the devil is in the details when it comes to colonies in XC3. These similarities rarely extend below the surface.

Even just aesthetically, the similarities are always just surface level. Yes, they’re all tiny military outposts built under a giant mech. Though, I’d argue that in and of itself is plenty cool and unique. But as I've just illustrated in extensive detail, each and every colony is unique in every facet. From its presentation, to its structure, to its storytelling. The game makes fantastic use of Aionios’ dynamic natural geography, situating these colonies within the varied landscapes in ways that actually make sense.

But their visual and aesthetic individuality is only ever the tip of the iceberg. Each colony tells an appropriately personal story within the confines of its walls. Some of these stories are more obvious than others, and like, Colony 30’s story for example, would have largely been possible to tell through its setting alone, though the added exposition never hurts. Through varying ratios of environmental storytelling, NPC dialogue, corresponding hero quests, and the bevy of expositorily-illuminating side quests, every single colony in XC3 has a narrative identity strong enough to coincide with its aesthetic identity. They are an absolutely perfect foundation for keeping XC3’s 200+ hour gameplay loop feeling fresh. It strikes a near-flawless balance of familiarity and structure, while also maintaining a more than satisfactory sense of individuality and mystique.

Is the phrase "Best of Both Worlds" starting to get annoying yet? Well, don’t get mad at me, but it DOES just so happen to apply here too. Not my fault that this game is so thematically consistent.

CHAPTER 7 - “WANO SYNDROME”: AIONIOS AND THE LORE DENSITY PARADOX
[Wano Syndrome, The Value of “Idea Density” vs “Idea Meticulousness”]

A bit of a warning is probably necessary for this next chapter. Compared to my other points, this is far more abstract and honestly, leans more into being a thought experiment than it does focusing solely on XC3. My thoughts on XC3 are definitely still relevant here though, but I do feel a bit of priming is necessary regardless, since this does get a bit weird. K thanks.

Next, I’d like to talk about XC3’s narrative thoroughness in conjunction with a phenomenon which I like to call “Wano Syndrome”. It’s a term I’ve coined in reference to the most recent story arc of the One Piece manga, but is surprisingly applicable to a ton of different works with similar properties. To define it as best I can:

Wano Syndrome: a phenomenon which afflicts a piece of media, causing it to be paradoxically way too fucking long and/or dense, while also somehow managing to be substantially rushed and/or underdeveloped.

[Disclaimer: I make vague mention of things from various games in this next paragraph, though nothing is explicitly mentioned by means of spoilers. But in case you’re someone who wants to be 100% blind going into a specific game, skip ahead if you see a game title this pertains to.]

To give a few more examples outside these two works, to help better illustrate what exactly qualifies as “Wano Syndrome”: I’d be willing to apply it to the following works:
-Trails of Cold Steel IV (lacking background/narrative focus on the Ironbloods, the War of The Lions, the children of Valius Reise Arnor V, Ishmelga’s origins, etc.)
-Labyrinth of Refrain: Coven of Dusk (underdeveloped settings aside from Refrain itself, lacking buildup and characterization of the new endgame cast members)
-Fire Emblem: Three Houses (idk gimme more political shit)
-La Pucelle Tactics (worldbuilding, church history, more flashbacks)
-Ys Origin (Kingdom of Ys detail, Priests, Fact Family/Clan of Darkness)
-Märchen Forest (more background on the Castle / outside the Forest, more slice of life outside the prologue)
-Live a Live (finale party interaction and unique skill utilization, generally lacking depth outside the immediately pertinent and bare-bones main plot- even if its brevity was probably intentional)
-Shin Megami Tensei V (lacking detail and background on Tokyo’s ruin, characterization of the Bethel branch leaders).

So yeah, it’s clearly not one specific thing which defines Wano Syndrome, so hopefully these examples better illustrate what I’m referring to here. I’m not even saying all of these points can be inherently considered “flaws” to begin with, rather, things I enjoyed enough to wish there were more of. But for the sake of the argument and for brevity (Queen knows this review needs more of it), let’s just call them shortcomings for now. Nearly all of these issues are relatively major shortcomings for examples of media which place great emphasis on painting dense and well-developed worlds. And yet, what I find fascinating about “Wano Syndrome” is that it seems to be present ONLY in media I have considerable narrative investment within despite these shortcomings. In other words, while “Wano Syndrome” is at its core a wholly negative affliction, I’ve only found examples of it exclusively within games I don’t just enjoy, but LOVE.

By now, I do think I’ve done a decent job explaining what sort of media I’d consider worthy of the “Wano Syndrome” moniker, but here’s one more analogy that takes media out of the equation entirely. Think of this comparison in terms of paintings. Just uh, keep in mind I don’t know shit about paintings. Anyway, Painting A is a photorealistic landscape painting- hell, if this is too generic, let’s use the Mona Lisa. All the theoretical detail is right there for you to see, it’s mechanically sound, and technically speaking, it’s highly impressive to the point of perhaps even being “flawless” to some. Personally, outside its mysterious history of theft, I find it boring as shit.

Painting B, on the other hand, is a surrealist landscape- let’s use the Persistence of Time if you’d prefer a real example (I know, two of the most normcore paintings of all time. I warned yall). It’s obviously rather abstract, to the point whereupon one’s initial viewing, its thematic depth might be too ambiguous to be immediately communicable. But given the proper engagement, there’s a lot more density and value one can glean from observing it, no matter if you ever “truly understand” the entire breadth of the painting’s meaning or intent in the end. Now, “Wano Syndrome” applies more to a work’s density of ideas and the meticulousness by which they’re explored, but there’s a comparable sentiment to be considered here.

Compared to the painting example, the ambiguity of these game examples are a bit more of an objective shortcoming, as the depth that IS there simply isn’t as thorough as it could’ve been. But the biggest takeaway I’d like you to absorb from this explanation is this: XC3 made me realize that the “objective” shortcoming of this aforementioned ambiguity might not be a bad thing whatsoever.

I know this chapter probably feels a bit abstract even now, but please, bear with me a bit longer as I break down its significance. By now, you’re probably asking: why is this important? Well, as I just alluded to, XC3 was THE single game which I feel helped me better understand the implications of “Wano Syndrome”- more so than any other piece of media I’ve ever experienced. It single-handedly provided me with a revelation that this shortcoming has virtually no negative bearing on how much I will end up enjoying or resonating with a fictional world as a whole.

In a vacuum, XC3’s worldbuilding proved thoroughly lackluster through its absence of meticulously detailed / organized concepts, character backgrounds, and so on. Admittedly, the ambiguity in character writing is where this shortcoming is felt most negatively. But even in spite of this, I can probably count on one hand the number of fictional worlds I’ve found myself more overall enthralled and invested in than XC3’s Aionios: Its fascinatingly unique world concepts, weird approach to continuity and interconnectivity, the sheer quantity and density of its countless compelling plot threads, the worldbuilding which spans more than two dozen unique settlements under two diametrically opposed banners, a mysterious organization of conceptually vague antagonists, the direct political intrigue of Swordmarch City via the Six Houses and their respective Founders, the indirect political intrigue found in the composition of Keves and Agnus’ castle/colony structure, the interlaced threads of narrative and theming found in every seam of the game’s design… I could keep going, but you get the point. It’s irrefutable that just about every aspect of XC3’s world and narrative are criminally undercooked or left out of the spotlight entirely. Yet, in spite of each facet of XC3’s construction falling short of what it theoretically could’ve been, it still manages to be unrelentingly compelling and enthralling from the strength and density of its ideas alone.

Naturally, the first takeaway from exploring this idea of “Wano Syndrome'' would be that narratives which are large in scope and meticulously detailed resonate deeply with ME specifically. Well, yeah, that much is obvious and not particularly helpful in a more broad sense. I’ll often still resonate with art which prioritizes these goals. Even when it definitively fails in living up to the level of thoroughness which it could theoretically have achieved. More importantly, though, I don’t think this is just a result of my own personal taste- rather, it’s more of a baseline truth than one might expect.

Put simply, this shortcoming might not be an inherent negative. Consider the nature of mystique and the ongoing narrative examination which stems from this form of ambiguity. One could reasonably conclude that, by taking “Wano Syndrome” to its logical extreme, an afflicted work’s own shortcoming can paradoxically work in its own favor through this ambiguity rather than against it.

…Still with me? I know that was hella weird and probably the closest I’ll come to incomprehensible rambling. Don’t worry, none of the other chapters are like this. I think.

CHAPTER 8 - HOLDIN OUT FOR A HERO (QUEST)
[Heroes, Ascension Quests, Side Quests]

Although XC3’s major story beats do hit the mark near universally, there are several points where things felt decidedly rushed. Aside from the brevity of Chapters 6 and 7, the one area I felt this most clearly was in the Hero characters’ “Main Story” involvement. The early game especially was the biggest culprit of this. I would’ve been hugely appreciative of Ouroboros getting more time to spend with Ethel. But immediately after her Hero Quest, she fucks off to the Castle and later dies before getting a chance to rejoin. This really minimized her potential for relationship building (especially among the three Agnians, who only knew of her prior through battle rumors). The Kevesi party’s attachment to her did provide some emotional weight to her death scene. But given that most of our time interacting with Ethel is as an antagonist under the influence of Consul K’s iris manipulation, there wasn’t enough time to develop a true emotional attachment to her character in the way our party, particularly Noah, had.

Isurugi’s early game stuff flew by way too quickly as well, and for similar reasons. The iris manipulation poised him as an antagonist for most of his involvement in the “main story”. He is then immediately punted to the sidelines once Consul J reveals himself to be Joran. Not only did this lack of screentime and focus harm Isurugi’s character, but Taion’s by proxy. I do feel Taion’s character eventually got the satisfaction it needed through his Side Story. However, because of Isurugi’s guilt for the role he played in supporting Nami’s dream to see the world, an act which led to her eventual death, he keeps himself out of her new life in the Lost Colony. This does feel appropriate in terms of his character and their history. Unfortunately, though, this doesn’t do him any favors in terms of providing him with the screen time he desperately needed (and deserved, frankly).

This probably would’ve been less egregious if Isurugi’s own ascension quest was more character driven, but it just wasn’t. Well, at least for him specifically, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I love this quest. It not only does a great job at providing much-needed levity before the bombastic climax against Z, but it highlights the growth of Ouroboros’ quite brilliantly.

Think back to the “clothes changing scene” at Gura Flava when the group first came together as Ouroboros. They feel shame over their newfound knowledge, but do not understand why (this will be more important and expounded upon later on). But in this scene, after having traveled together and in some cases fallen in love (not to mention learning what sex is), they are entirely cognizant of why stripping down would lead them to becoming flustered around one another. On the surface, one could brush this off as tropey fanservice. But as the game bluntly hits you over the face with during the initial bathhouse scene in Chapter 1, that is never the case. This scene, without any dialogue to directly suggest as much, illustrates their growth as a family, their growing romantic bonds, and most importantly, their growing humanity; all of which come full circle in this scene despite its unassuming simplicity.

I know Monolith Soft was probably hesitant to make any more of the side content mandatory, given the fact that the game is already so incredibly long. But I really do wish that heroes were made Mandatory. It might sound like a rather arbitrary thing to suggest, but it would only serve to benefit their corresponding relationships, scenes, and interactions. By not having to account for the players who might not yet have a specific hero in their arsenal, more pre rendered cutscenes and main-story dialogue could’ve incorporated various heroes in order to provide them with more screentime and interactions amongst each other. Think of Rudi’s partnership with Isurugi and Nina, Zeon and Yuzuriha’s (absolutely blessed) bond, Monica and Gray’s mutual trust and respect, Miyabi’s apprenticeship under Manana, and the budding camaraderie between Triton and (his adopted daughter idc) Fiona. These are great, but I would’ve loved to see more relationships in this vein.

Similarly to both Ethel and Isurugi, the sheer number of supporting characters and their respective plot threads lead to quite a few major plot beats getting shafted. Joran is another strong example of this, though I didn’t feel his character was impacted as substantially as the former two. I was invested in Joran’s character arc from the moment of the initial reveal, especially since it formed a compelling and surprisingly sensitive foundation for Lanz’ character arc. But by the time his emotional payoff came to fruition at the Cloudkeep in Chapter 6 (despite being a phenomenal scene in hindsight) it didn’t quite hit as hard since, well… I hadn't seen Joran more than once or twice in the past 75 hours.

Beyond these three, I’d say this applies to Cammunabi (alright he and Ethel kinda get a pass for having literally been dead), Monica, Ghondor, and Ashera to name a few. I'm not saying ALL of these characters needed more, as I thoroughly enjoyed every single one of them. But more scenes of just about any sort- be they dramatic or casual party interactions, anything would’ve been welcome. Hell, I'd even take the Chrono Cross approach of “your chosen party member will say the same sort of generic thing regardless of who it is during cutscenes” cheap shot. Plus, it’s not like they couldn’t throw some flavor text in their given how many fewer party members this game has compared to Chrono Cross. Anyway, the point is that seeing Ethel stand around in the background while the entire game goes on like she isn’t there just… doesn’t sit well with me.

To speak generally about the sidequests in this game for a bit: They’re incomparably better and more interesting than the side quests of prior Xenoblade games. Like holy shit. Here's a completely random example of a XC3 quest premise I've pulled straight out of my ass: Some Swordmarch City Lost Numbers rando wants to propose to his rich gf with a literal rock from a distant island because it's shiny or whatever. So he’s training to swim 10 straight days to reach it. He then asked the resident furby for advice on endurance training, who recommended repeatedly jumping off a 3rd story balcony. Sounds like a hell of an outlier, right? Well, not really, actually. This is one of the most irrelevant and straightforward fetch quests in the whole game. Yet, even something THIS pointless still gets some weirdo shit thrown on top of it to make it genuinely fun and worth your time.

Perhaps my single biggest disappointment in terms of character writing was the lack of proper ascension quests for the dead duo. Er, the dynamic.. defiant… dead… fuck it, Ethel and Cammunabi. To be fair, Cammunabi KINDA got something resembling a substantial conclusion, I guess? But Ethel really didn’t get anything other than a quick cutscene or two. Her revival and maturation should’ve been a HUGE deal, when in reality, it ended up feeling more like a gameplay bonus than a proper story beat.

While it’s certainly a very welcome gameplay bonus, I was a bit let down that her job rank immediately shot to 20 without getting any sort of quest upon rejoining the party. Even if it was just something basic or lighthearted to make up for lost time and catch her up to speed with everything that transpired in her absence. Though, I definitely do concede that looking back and telling her EVERYTHING would be thematically counterproductive. The game constantly pushes a core principle of “never looking back”- a fact which is very consistently upheld through these revivals.

For example, Taion never explains everything to Nami, nor does Isurugi ever come to visit and talk to her for his own satisfaction and resolution. Garvel and his crew DO go back to the original colony eventually, but it’s never strictly to return to their old lives. Miyabi, despite her partial understanding of past events, moves on with her new life by taking on responsibilities as a Lost Number and general member of society within Swordmarch City. Mwamba and Hackt are uh… there, I guess? Kinda, but not really? Can’t say it isn’t in-character for them…

Likewise, Ethel and Cammunabi are committed to using their new lives to look straight ahead to the future. Ethel’s conviction with this goal is particularly compelling. She actively chose to shorten her own lifespan and sacrifice a potentially safe and peaceful life within the City just so she could contribute to the party and look after herself- rather than shackling someone else to do so on her behalf. Again, this conclusion to her arc was INSANELY brief to the point where it’s basically just a footnote. Still though, the substance behind this abrupt conclusion to her character is more than adequate in terms of thematic and emotional weight.

And with that, we can finally move on to the main cast of XC3- Ouroboros. I don’t want to drag this much further, but I will preemptively say that this is easily one of my favorite casts of main characters in any piece of fiction, period. The diversity, the interactions, the growth, Ouroboros has all of it in spades. A huge contributing factor of this is the change in approach to party assembly. Whereas in prior Xenoblade games, you’d slowly assemble a party over the course of most of the main quest, your main party in XC3 is complete about 1% into the game. It might seem anticlimactic, but this massively beneficial towards your growing attachment to them as a set group, it gives each of them time to breathe and be given individual focus, and more.

Not to mention, on the flip side, all six of their character arcs persist throughout the entirety of the game. No more “you got your time to shine, now chill in the back of every cutscene for the last 60 hours” garbage. Each one of them sees gradual growth from beginning to end, never once losing their personal stake in the ongoing narrative. Plus, while getting the entire party at once might appear to have its own set of drawbacks, the Hero system covers its weaknesses beautifully. It allows the party to still “grow” in numbers, and aside from the fact you can’t control them, it does a wonderful job of substituting in for the standard sense of party progression that would have been otherwise lost entirely.

If I had to provide one gripe as to the main cast, it would be their lack of upbringing diversity. I mean, this was inevitable considering the careful deliberation of the world through Moebius’ conspiratorial colony system. The homogenization IS definitely intentional. That said, in comparison to XC2 especially, where characters like Vandham, Morag, and Zeke provided such a dynamic range of experience, maturity, and backgrounds, it’s only natural that this approach would feel a bit flat by comparison. Though the heroes provide a ton of variety, thankfully. Aside from that… I literally have nothing else but the highest praise for Ouroboros. They’re excellent, plain and simple. With that said, let’s tackle them one at a time and get to the heart of why this group is so goddamn special.

(continued in comments lmao)

I don’t like the sentiment that this game was “What Xenoblade 3 Should Have Been”. This game feels largely like a nostalgia-fest-y victory lap while also trying to be a full fledged game (and it succeeds in that!), and quite honestly I feel like wanting this first would have gone very much against Xenoblade 3’s message of moving on from the “Endless Now”. Thankfully aside from that one gripe with the sentiments, I’m by no means immune to nostalgia-fests! Every little reference and location and nod warmed my heart, and speaking of heartwarming SHULKDAD!!!! God I loved seeing the parents interact with their kids, even Rex who I’m not especially fond of elsewhere, I was pretty fond of in this game. Matthew and A are a fantastic duo as well as great characters individually, I love how Matthew is this sorta dumbass (lovingly) hyperactive guy, love him so much. A is my genderfuck monarch and I love A with all my heart, perfect char. Nikol and Glimmer as said earlier, in addition to being great in their own right, I loooove their relationships with Shulk and Rex so damn much. Great story of course as well, even if I feel like it could have used a bit more room to breathe. Combat I feel is pretty alright as well, they did a pretty good job differentiating it from 3’s, which was something I was a bit worried about. Major issue with it is that the defense classes can’t keep aggro for shit, especially with how overpowered Rex is (SPIN TO WIN). But yeah! Overall I loved this dlc, it stands pretty well among its peers in the series and despite how I felt for a bit in the middle, it worked its way into my heart pretty dang well. Love you, Xenoblade <3

Before I begin my one-size-fits-all bitching and moaning, I would like to give Nintendo my sincerest gratitude in sacrificing this game upon their altars of public relations. I seriously could not imagine trying to play this game, knowing that real world is happening with it's cartoonish depictions. I'm sure Activision is more than willing to do the same for all their Call of Duty games, they could learn a thing or two from them. Since the game has finally released, I assume every war is now over. What a relief! Now I can game with peace of mind!

The constant delay gave me more than enough time to get over my initial shock of them remembering that this series once existed, and start bringing myself back on the level and stuff my inner fangirl back into their hole. The new artstyle for this game? Way too clean, I know it's WayForward's typical style, but I was never the hugest fan of it. Some COs like Lash look cute, but others just look drab. This isn't helped by the overly smooth animation for their in-battle portraits that look insanely cheap to me, it feels like I'm watching a bunch of vtubers in a multiplayer game. This is obviously pretty apples, oranges and melons. I'm sure some enjoy this new art style, but that's completely minor in the grand scheme of things, I would like to talk about the actual in-game graphics.

They are shit.

Awful. The most PepsiCo-sponsored corporate looking mobile 3D that looks tailor-made to run on the most budget cellphone you could imagine. I get that the Switch may as well be a shitty budget cellphone in comparison to my PC rig or the PS5/Series X, but surely you could've done better. It could be because it's hard to duplicate the original game's colorful spritework and backdrops that were created with the brightness of the GBA in mind to a more modern system with stock polygons, but I don't get why this unimpressive-looking mess also apparently runs at uneven frame rates. It clashes with the portraits of the COs, and this difference makes it even more noticeable. This is beyond my usual "sprites > polygons" bullshit when it comes to remakes, there's a clear winner and loser in this affair.

I know I'm going on purely about the visuals, but that's always the biggest change when these dreadful remakes pop up. If it looks shit compared to the original, then I don't care about the QoL improvements. It's great that they are there, but zooming out the map to see even more of the utterly dull landscape of this does little to excite me. I don't always have this attitude with remakes, I can be less mean-spirited. The Spyro Reignited Trilogy managed to survive my wrath despite it's glitches, and I think that speaks for itself enough considering my unspeakable adoration for the originals. A good touch could give an old game a new look for modern hardware that's pleasing for everyone, and this doesn't do it for me.

It's poop, I'm afraid. 💅

I would like to also bring up another thing, the price. It is outrageously rare that I would ever bring this up. I don't consider myself to be made of gold bars and pirate treasure, nor am I starving in the back of a McDonalds parking lot, but I know when something is fucked up. A few months ago the Metroid Prime Remaster was released, it was forty didgeridoos. I consider that game a nice glow up of a Gamecube classic despite it still being a bit much, this is a sixty didgeridoo mixed bag of opinions of two GBA titles that are very obviously running off the same rom file.[Biggest tell is AW1 Olaf losing his chair and Sturm no longer looking like Captain Snifit] I haven't had this feeling like I was about to be mugged since the Space Invaders Invincible Collection dropped, and attempted to put me into bankruptcy. It's way too much, you know the alternative. A sad day when your pricing approaches breathing distance of current-gen Taito re-releases.

If you're still interested, cool. The QoL will surely be nice, since underneath the Great Value presentation are still the skeletons of the gameplay by Intelligent Systems. However I consider this to be a mockery, and I no longer wish it to be in my kingdom. If WayBackward were gonna take up the reins, then they should've just done a new game [and it probably would've smelled even worse]. Maybe WayForward should've just made their way forward into a bottomless pit, because apparently their involvement would've made me angry regardless. I'm just hoping this remaster existing doesn't equip their GBA workers with the slow block when it comes to bringing the originals to NSO.[you know it's gonna be 2026 by that point]

I hope Arin Hanson accidentally bites into the world's most sour lemon, and has his mouth perpetually closed shut for the rest of his life.

I have this propensity to never play games a second time, even the ones I love. It serves me well more often than not, because I greatly value backlog exploration and sheer variety over mechanical or scholarly mastery of any specific title. Where it bites me in the wahooey, however, is in largely skill-oriented titles like character action games, ones that demand keen attentiveness and willingness to retain and juggle knowledge of systems macro and micro. For as much as I love these games for their absolutely unbridled pomp and the hot-blooded verve that courses thru em - I know I’m not going to get the most out of them, I just don’t have that kind of attention. Bayonetta 1 is astoundingly good, but it’s a game I essentially Bronze Trophied my way through, and only watched .webms of people going sicko online for. I only knew what dodge offset WAS when I hit the last level, when it was too late for me 😔.
Bayorigins: Wily Beast and Weakest Creature is just a nice little scrimblo that forces a more steady pace with its longer runtime and focus on action adventure & metroidvania-lite elements. There is a more sensical focus on the storytelling here than in the mainline entries, exemplified through its presentation style of a children’s picturebook narrated by a granny. It’s all just nice, the visual direction is utterly astounding, and is the most blown away I’ve been by sheer artistry in a videogame in a very long time, the shader programmers were spinning in their chairs like the tasmanian devil on this one. With the combat being a touch more of a tertiary focus on the title than the rest, it allows itself time to slowly blossom through the course of the runtime with a steadily increasing amount of abilities, roadblocks and enemy gimmicks - and while there are no post-battle ranking screens to have Stone trophies nip at my heels, it felt immensely satisfying to sense myself mastering it under a more forgiving piecemeal delivery. It’s actually a little impressive how intuitive this control scheme becomes after an awkward starting period; forcing the player to control two separate characters by splitting the controller inputs down the middle. With its smart application within certain story beats, I became more than sold on the way this plays, kinda love it. For all these reasons, it's my favourite Bayonetta game. This is the warmest I’ve felt for a Platinum title since Wonderful 101, and while it doesn’t reach the same heights, it’s a miraculously good little spinoff to patch over my confidence in the studio that Bayo3 had dented.

andy blunden writes the following in Stalinism: Its Origin and Its Future:

"The bureaucracy, owing to its conditions of life, aspired to ownership of the means of production, but was excluded from this by Soviet law. Nevertheless, like all bureaucracies, they used their position to gain the greatest possible freedom from the control from the population."

blunden identifies the bureaucracy of a stalinist system as wielding the instruments of political violence on behalf of the proletariat (who won said instruments via revolutionary upheaval of a capitalist social order) while simultaneously negotiating greater and greater autonomy to conduct the state away from proletariat desires. this is specifically attributed to the isolation of the soviet state and the failure of international socialism in the wake of the russian revolution. when operating in a capitalist global economy and with the need to establish industrialized productive forces in a relatively undeveloped country, the bureaucracy organized markets and rigid economic control in order to create competitive parity with its neighbors.

these threads are woven tightly throughout your days as immigration officer in arstotzka. it presents the material contradiction at the heart of socialist bureaucratic rule cleanly: the regulatory actions of the bureaucracy can themselves be twisted into commodities. the ideal value of the officer's choice to accept or deny an immigrant's paperwork lies in its judgment on the fitness of a person to enter or exit a country; a binary moral evaluation of someone as a refugee, traveler, or potential productive labor vs an ideological dissident, terrorist, or purveyor of bourgeoisie exploitation. when this receives an exchange valuation in the form of "credits," a dialectic relation emerges. the need to keep one's family afloat in the face of daily expenses turns the throughput of the line into the driver of decision-making while the just impetus behind the officer's duty becomes less and less relevant. the game counterweighs this somewhat by instantly scoring you on your decisions, but it's only able to do so in terms of factual, unnuanced contradictions. forged seals on entry permits and stolen visas are smashed into the same category as those with minor typos in their region of origin and identification cards just a day or two expired. any means of quantifying the ideal behind the action of immigration squashes it into a degenerated new interpretation.

with this transformation of the action of immigration approval into a commodity, the state and its handlers are able to leverage it as such. when asian-expy country impor imposes trade sanctions on arstotzka, the latter fires back by cutting off access to its borders, withholding a service identical to its rival's cessation of the trade of physical goods. a fellow guard gets kickbacks off of detainments and cuts you into his share, giving the player the opportunity to reap rewards from detaining immigrants for virtually any small paperwork infraction. even terrorist attacks become easy paydays for the player, changing from unfortunate interruptions in your commission-based salary to a sigh of relief as a suicide bomber rushing the outpost is surgically eliminated by your hand. in all of these instances, the meaning behind these bureaucratic, theoretically necessary actions are gamified through their transformation into commodities. even the physical passports themselves are commodified by the end of the game, where surreptitiously confiscating above-board foreign passports gives your family the opportunity to create forgeries and emigrate into a different country.

in this way, the game forces the player's hand by accelerating a bureaucratization of the mind. I denied entry to a woman because she lacked an ID card even with a valid domestic visa; I immediately rationalized this because her excuse ("I left the country before ID cards were distributed") seemed incongruent with a supposed history that I had literally no basis for. at the same time, I applauded myself for making "morally correct" choices to weigh out my perpetuation of injustice, such as letting a woman join her husband even when missing her entry permit or denying entry to a pimp trafficking women through your checkpoint. in essence, the existence of the service I provided as a commodity gave the illusion of perpetual justice when I made discrete choices that defied the imposed exchange value, buoying the contradiction between moral ideal and commodified existence in the process. any sense of personal gratification off of these actions stemmed entirely from the fact that I wielded complete control over these people's lives, even if I occasionally offered benevolence. it succinctly shows the inability for meaningful revolutionary action by a single actor when perpetuating a regressive mode of a production. rather, only organized methods can viably allow for a true, international struggle for a classless society.

mechanically the game perfectly conjures the claustrophobic doldrums of work giving way to dull bouts of relief at the absence of any citation. chump sums it up rather tidily in their own review. virtually never a possible contradiction that doesn't appear during regular play at least once or twice, encouraging thorough play while simultaneously rushing you along.

Bizarre how this game is trying to present wizarding world of 1890 as this secret island of progressiveness and liberalism with a few rotten apples here and there. Everyone is welcoming and friendly, there's no tension with teachers or rivalry between houses, your student buddy is a black girl from (soon to be a British colony) Uganda, a blind kid in Slytherin dorm complains about his father being a boomer blood racist, you can enter any bathroom in the school despite your assigned dormitory etc. It's truly a wholesome chungus version of Hogwarts, created as a smokescreen so you wouldn't think too hard about fantasy slavery and institutionalized stratification of wizarding society. The way to put distance between the game and woeful worldviews of the author. A scheme that doesn't pan out at all as the story uses goblin uprising as window dressing instead of the venicle to address inherent injustices of this fictional world.

But what if, for a moment, we try to disregard the elven slavery and goblin racism, Rowling's politics and hack writing. What will you find? Nothing short of another checklist open-world game. All the artistry, gigabytes of assets and hours of voice acting went into filling the wonderful recreation of Hogwarts with icons and one-button chores to raise your gear score. At one point the world map opens up with the massive grassland expanse full of goblin camps to clear. You'll find a Harry Potter game without characters to befriend or mysteries to ponder. There's no wish fulfillment, no secret life escapism — things that made HP the inescapable cultural phenomenon with millennials like myself in the first place.

I'm amazed it came down to this when Atlus figured out a socialite RPG framework 18 years ago. Like, a Hogwarts game with calendar system would still be junk food, but at least in somewhat inspired serving. I should be attending wizarding classes and looking for ways to break school rules with my scrunklo Slytherin buddies. Instead I'm mass murdering goblin population and checking with ancient magic hotspots so I can deal 3 more damage with "basic cast". The fleeting charm of opening hours evaporates as square socket structure of the game laids bare, and so is my desire to engage with such slop.