I have a confession to make: I used cheat codes / hacks to complete a good portion of Final Fantasy 7. The PS3 / PS4 port of Final Fantasy 7 came installed with a handful of built-in cheats you can easily turn on through pressing the L3 or R3 buttons (or both): a hack for 3x speed, a hack that turns off random encounters, and (crucially) a hack that fills up the characters' Limit Break gauges and completely refills their health every turn. At first, I only used 3x Speed intermittently because FF7 is often slow as hell, and I only really flicked on No Random Encounters while exploring the overworld and trying to figure out where the hell to go next without getting interrupted.
But here's the thing: FF7 is an old game. It is an oldass game, and in some places it has aged like milk. The aforementioned slowness of the dialogue and movement is one thing, but you are constantly being reminded of the antiquated nature of the game at almost every turn. FF7's overworld is an overambitious disaster: no landmarks on the map (which makes backtracking miserable without a guide), indecipherably weird movement, and a strange warping effect that makes walking around somewhat nauseating. Random and oft-unpredictable difficulty spikes permeate throughout the campaign; sometimes you will just killed by random bullshit and there's nothing you can do about it in the moment (froglocking). The translation is notoriously wonky and uncanny, so important mechanics are often poorly contextualized to the point of some bits of advice being outright lies ("attack while its tail is up"). And the less said about BS like climbing the frozen mountain or passing through the green whirlwinds, the better. There are so many frustrating little things pockmarked throughout the 20-30 hours the average player will spend with FF7 that start tallying up over time, and the older I get, the less patience I have for difficulty spikes and stupid bullshit.
So I caved. I turned on Infinite Limit Breaks and Restoring Health and basically never turned it off as the game's runtime stretched into the double digits... and in doing so, I felt my frustration (mostly) fade away into the ether, allowing me to appreciate what works about this classic without being reminded of what has aged about it.
Was this the right thing to do? Did my decision to turn on hacks hinder the authenticity of my critical experience with FF7? Do I really have a platform of any kind to judge this game upon compared to the thousands of 90s kids that had to put up with this game's tomfoolery and beat it through sheer force of will? I don't know... and I honestly don't care. Nerdietalk wrote a brief review of Fallout: New Vegas where she admitted to using console commands to breeze through the game, and in doing so, she got to "experience some incredible writing and worldbuilding." I kept thinking about that small writeup while playing through Final Fantasy 7, and I ultimately came to the exact same conclusion. It's possible that using cheat codes cheapened my experience with FF7 and made it less authentic and genuine than playing it as-is on the PS1, imperfections and all. But at some point during my playthrough, I stopped caring about this nefarious, ambiguous question of 'authenticity' altogether, because in the process of using cheats & hacks to streamline my experience, I got to play an incredibly creative and compelling adventure where something memorable, funny, and heartbreaking was always waiting for me around the corner.
FF7's world is an timeless one, filled to the brim with distinctive landmarks and rock-solid worldbuilding. Midgar alone is a killer cyberpunk location, an iconic dystopia so memorable and well-realized that they could well have set the entire game here (foreshadowing); the fact that we're also treated to strong, striking locations like Cosmo Canyon, the Gold Saucer, and the Forgotten City long after Midgar has been left in ruins just feels like the frosting on top of a delicious cake (or the sauce on top of a Midgar pizza). FF7 combines futuristic cyberpunk aesthetics with swords-and-sorcery fantasy so seamlessly that you don't even question why all these magic users and swordsmiths drive motorcycles, blow up power plants, and travel across the world in armored cars, planes, and airships. The way that Mako energy & "The Lifestream" as a concept is tied into the game's themes of nature & technology is brilliant, the Materia system is a flexible and customizable work of art, and the way the game's scope gradually evolves from "ecoterrorist revolution" to "fighting a godly being to save the planet" is actually pretty flawless and well-paced, all things considered. It's not hard to see why the broad strokes of FF7's alluring and creative world captured the imagination of thousands; there is something enchanting about the world of Gaia and the characters and stories found within it.
So much about the plot just works in spite of the infamously off-kilter and terse translation. The disastrous and often self-destructive impact that Shinra has on the world around them can be felt even at the fringes of the planet, creating this delightfully apocalyptic and anti-imperialist atmosphere that imbues FF7 with a crucial sense of revolutionary fervor. But in spite of this dystopia, Final Fantasy 7 is a shockingly funny game, unafraid to be silly and lighthearted and larger-than-life in places like Wall Market, the Gold Saucer, the Chocobo Farm, and Wutai. But these moments of levity and goofball comedy never detract from the mysticism and gravitas of the overarching plot about life and death and the fate of the planet. FF7 is often a beautiful game, its quieter moments defined by a strangely contemplative and damp atmosphere, and sometimes the game even does a great job at being chilling and kind of horrifying: everything about Sephiroth (a legitimately intimidating force-of-nature type of villain that makes the absolute most of his minimal screentime) and the thick, asphyxiating mystery of Nibelheim is legitimately haunting. And even though I knew the two biggest plot twists in the game coming in (Aerith's death and everything about Cloud and Zack), the fact that I still felt a genuine sense of shock, awe, and impact when those moments finally came proves just how strong the writing of FF7 is after all this time.
Though honestly, the journey that our main protagonist takes is proof enough of the story's inherent strength. Cloud Strife is one of the best and most iconic JRPG protagonists of all time for a good reason: he's cool, he has a badass sword, a badass motorcycle, he's a tough antihero that refuses to take shit from anyone, and it's all a lie. I'd even go as far to call Cloud perhaps the best JRPG protagonist of all time. I have more of a personal connection with Skies of Arcadia's Vyse, and I could easily see someone making a similar case for Mother 3's Lucas or Persona 5's Joker. But in my mind, Cloud stands atop every single one of them because of how cleverly and succinctly he subverts the audience's expectations.
Cloud is an unreliable narrator, a liar so damaged by trauma and inferiority that Cloud himself is the most devout believer of his own lies, so fooled by his own smoke and mirrors that his mind has become fog itself. The way the game gradually unravels his badass tough-guy persona to reveal the broken, hurt child underneath it all is legitimately stellar. Cloud's character arc goes through so many twists and turns that keeps the audience on their toes, and yet there's a clear throughline of trauma and self-loathing throughout. He is, simultaneously, a ruthless and cool lone-wolf hero that can take on the world alone... and an insecure, lonely boy that was robbed of his chance to grow up by propaganda and mental illness. Only through properly working through his trauma and discovering himself does Cloud become a proper hero. When he says "I'm going to live my life without pretending", you want to cry with happiness, and when he whips out the Omnislash to defeat Sephiroth in a duel that ends the entire game, you want to fucking cheer for him. Cloud is consistently great every step of the way. No one has ever done it quite like Cloud Strife, and the fact that he's surrounded by a distinctive and fleshed-out cast of memorable and well-written characters is just the cherry on top.
Final Fantasy 7 is a complex game from toe to tip. It's antiquated, obtuse, frequently frustrating, and intermittently hard to love... but it's also creative, clever, frequently funny, and easy to fall in love with. It is an exciting game, with an impeccably timeless prog-rock soundtrack with catchy, complex songs that pump you up and make you cry. It is beautiful, painfully beautiful at parts with its gorgeously textured and painterly pre-rendered backgrounds (which look fantastic even now) and the heavy sense of mysticism shrouded over everything. Its beauty and gravitas are kept in check by the game's goofy sense of humor, the humor is kept grounded by FF7's impressive propensity for psychological horror and cosmic terror, and the horror is numbed by the lovable found-family cast of characters and the wonderful, hilarious, and deeply sad things they persevere through. FF7 is hilarious, tragic, imaginative, and overambitious as hell, and it somehow manages to run the full gamut of emotional highs and lows throughout a fairly brisk 20-to-25 hour runtime that ultimately left me exhilarated and awe-inspired in spite of the numerous legitimate frustrations that hindered my progress to the action-packed finish line.
There are too many issues present in the game's DNA for me to call it a timeless classic... but these issues ultimately aren't enough to detract from how confident, clever, creative, and cathartic of a journey Final Fantasy 7 really is. No matter how often I'll sharply exhale through my nose and mutter 'fuck this', I know for a fact I'll likely keep returning to this game over and over and over again as the years go by, and no matter how many cheat codes or hacks I'll resort to in order to reduce the migraine, I know for a fact the brilliant soundtrack, the ethereal pre-rendered visuals, and the simultaneously hysterical and evocative story will never cease to capture my imagination no matter what.
To the settling of everything. Let's mosey.
But here's the thing: FF7 is an old game. It is an oldass game, and in some places it has aged like milk. The aforementioned slowness of the dialogue and movement is one thing, but you are constantly being reminded of the antiquated nature of the game at almost every turn. FF7's overworld is an overambitious disaster: no landmarks on the map (which makes backtracking miserable without a guide), indecipherably weird movement, and a strange warping effect that makes walking around somewhat nauseating. Random and oft-unpredictable difficulty spikes permeate throughout the campaign; sometimes you will just killed by random bullshit and there's nothing you can do about it in the moment (froglocking). The translation is notoriously wonky and uncanny, so important mechanics are often poorly contextualized to the point of some bits of advice being outright lies ("attack while its tail is up"). And the less said about BS like climbing the frozen mountain or passing through the green whirlwinds, the better. There are so many frustrating little things pockmarked throughout the 20-30 hours the average player will spend with FF7 that start tallying up over time, and the older I get, the less patience I have for difficulty spikes and stupid bullshit.
So I caved. I turned on Infinite Limit Breaks and Restoring Health and basically never turned it off as the game's runtime stretched into the double digits... and in doing so, I felt my frustration (mostly) fade away into the ether, allowing me to appreciate what works about this classic without being reminded of what has aged about it.
Was this the right thing to do? Did my decision to turn on hacks hinder the authenticity of my critical experience with FF7? Do I really have a platform of any kind to judge this game upon compared to the thousands of 90s kids that had to put up with this game's tomfoolery and beat it through sheer force of will? I don't know... and I honestly don't care. Nerdietalk wrote a brief review of Fallout: New Vegas where she admitted to using console commands to breeze through the game, and in doing so, she got to "experience some incredible writing and worldbuilding." I kept thinking about that small writeup while playing through Final Fantasy 7, and I ultimately came to the exact same conclusion. It's possible that using cheat codes cheapened my experience with FF7 and made it less authentic and genuine than playing it as-is on the PS1, imperfections and all. But at some point during my playthrough, I stopped caring about this nefarious, ambiguous question of 'authenticity' altogether, because in the process of using cheats & hacks to streamline my experience, I got to play an incredibly creative and compelling adventure where something memorable, funny, and heartbreaking was always waiting for me around the corner.
FF7's world is an timeless one, filled to the brim with distinctive landmarks and rock-solid worldbuilding. Midgar alone is a killer cyberpunk location, an iconic dystopia so memorable and well-realized that they could well have set the entire game here (foreshadowing); the fact that we're also treated to strong, striking locations like Cosmo Canyon, the Gold Saucer, and the Forgotten City long after Midgar has been left in ruins just feels like the frosting on top of a delicious cake (or the sauce on top of a Midgar pizza). FF7 combines futuristic cyberpunk aesthetics with swords-and-sorcery fantasy so seamlessly that you don't even question why all these magic users and swordsmiths drive motorcycles, blow up power plants, and travel across the world in armored cars, planes, and airships. The way that Mako energy & "The Lifestream" as a concept is tied into the game's themes of nature & technology is brilliant, the Materia system is a flexible and customizable work of art, and the way the game's scope gradually evolves from "ecoterrorist revolution" to "fighting a godly being to save the planet" is actually pretty flawless and well-paced, all things considered. It's not hard to see why the broad strokes of FF7's alluring and creative world captured the imagination of thousands; there is something enchanting about the world of Gaia and the characters and stories found within it.
So much about the plot just works in spite of the infamously off-kilter and terse translation. The disastrous and often self-destructive impact that Shinra has on the world around them can be felt even at the fringes of the planet, creating this delightfully apocalyptic and anti-imperialist atmosphere that imbues FF7 with a crucial sense of revolutionary fervor. But in spite of this dystopia, Final Fantasy 7 is a shockingly funny game, unafraid to be silly and lighthearted and larger-than-life in places like Wall Market, the Gold Saucer, the Chocobo Farm, and Wutai. But these moments of levity and goofball comedy never detract from the mysticism and gravitas of the overarching plot about life and death and the fate of the planet. FF7 is often a beautiful game, its quieter moments defined by a strangely contemplative and damp atmosphere, and sometimes the game even does a great job at being chilling and kind of horrifying: everything about Sephiroth (a legitimately intimidating force-of-nature type of villain that makes the absolute most of his minimal screentime) and the thick, asphyxiating mystery of Nibelheim is legitimately haunting. And even though I knew the two biggest plot twists in the game coming in (Aerith's death and everything about Cloud and Zack), the fact that I still felt a genuine sense of shock, awe, and impact when those moments finally came proves just how strong the writing of FF7 is after all this time.
Though honestly, the journey that our main protagonist takes is proof enough of the story's inherent strength. Cloud Strife is one of the best and most iconic JRPG protagonists of all time for a good reason: he's cool, he has a badass sword, a badass motorcycle, he's a tough antihero that refuses to take shit from anyone, and it's all a lie. I'd even go as far to call Cloud perhaps the best JRPG protagonist of all time. I have more of a personal connection with Skies of Arcadia's Vyse, and I could easily see someone making a similar case for Mother 3's Lucas or Persona 5's Joker. But in my mind, Cloud stands atop every single one of them because of how cleverly and succinctly he subverts the audience's expectations.
Cloud is an unreliable narrator, a liar so damaged by trauma and inferiority that Cloud himself is the most devout believer of his own lies, so fooled by his own smoke and mirrors that his mind has become fog itself. The way the game gradually unravels his badass tough-guy persona to reveal the broken, hurt child underneath it all is legitimately stellar. Cloud's character arc goes through so many twists and turns that keeps the audience on their toes, and yet there's a clear throughline of trauma and self-loathing throughout. He is, simultaneously, a ruthless and cool lone-wolf hero that can take on the world alone... and an insecure, lonely boy that was robbed of his chance to grow up by propaganda and mental illness. Only through properly working through his trauma and discovering himself does Cloud become a proper hero. When he says "I'm going to live my life without pretending", you want to cry with happiness, and when he whips out the Omnislash to defeat Sephiroth in a duel that ends the entire game, you want to fucking cheer for him. Cloud is consistently great every step of the way. No one has ever done it quite like Cloud Strife, and the fact that he's surrounded by a distinctive and fleshed-out cast of memorable and well-written characters is just the cherry on top.
Final Fantasy 7 is a complex game from toe to tip. It's antiquated, obtuse, frequently frustrating, and intermittently hard to love... but it's also creative, clever, frequently funny, and easy to fall in love with. It is an exciting game, with an impeccably timeless prog-rock soundtrack with catchy, complex songs that pump you up and make you cry. It is beautiful, painfully beautiful at parts with its gorgeously textured and painterly pre-rendered backgrounds (which look fantastic even now) and the heavy sense of mysticism shrouded over everything. Its beauty and gravitas are kept in check by the game's goofy sense of humor, the humor is kept grounded by FF7's impressive propensity for psychological horror and cosmic terror, and the horror is numbed by the lovable found-family cast of characters and the wonderful, hilarious, and deeply sad things they persevere through. FF7 is hilarious, tragic, imaginative, and overambitious as hell, and it somehow manages to run the full gamut of emotional highs and lows throughout a fairly brisk 20-to-25 hour runtime that ultimately left me exhilarated and awe-inspired in spite of the numerous legitimate frustrations that hindered my progress to the action-packed finish line.
There are too many issues present in the game's DNA for me to call it a timeless classic... but these issues ultimately aren't enough to detract from how confident, clever, creative, and cathartic of a journey Final Fantasy 7 really is. No matter how often I'll sharply exhale through my nose and mutter 'fuck this', I know for a fact I'll likely keep returning to this game over and over and over again as the years go by, and no matter how many cheat codes or hacks I'll resort to in order to reduce the migraine, I know for a fact the brilliant soundtrack, the ethereal pre-rendered visuals, and the simultaneously hysterical and evocative story will never cease to capture my imagination no matter what.
To the settling of everything. Let's mosey.