in the first dungeon of pillars of eternity, there's a moment that really stuck with me. you encounter a xaurip - a classic fantasy racism beastman that trades in aesthetics uncomfortably pulled from indigenous american stereotypes. it indicates that you go no further, that you do not follow it down a path into it's territory. there's no option to convince it to step aside and let you past: you either respect it's wishes, turn around and find another path, or you walk forward and kill it as an enemy. it's a moment with, i think genuine nuance, where the agency of the xaurip is respected, a moment that actually asks the player to respect the culture of this people or defy it, preventing them from taking a empowering middle road where they can do whatever they want if they have high enough numbers.

anyway, in the very next area you immediately encounter a bunch of them that attack on sight and that you have no recourse but to slaughter.

this moment is pillars of eternity in microcosm. on every level of it's construction, it is a game that feels simultaneously genuinely aware of the fraught nature of many of the images it is evoking and the things it is doing, aware of the stain left by games of this ilk in the past, and also resignedly committed to doing those things anyway without the brazen dumb confidence of a game like divinity: original sin 2. progressive and regressive, inventive and derivative, evolutionary and counter-evolutionary, pillars of eternity is the fascinating attempt to harken back to bioware's baldur's gate and the crpgs of it's era made by a game that doesn't wholly see the value in going back there.

i won't speculate on director je sawyer's intent any more than the man has directly said himself, as he has shown real discomfort towards people suggesting his opinions on certain games, but i know from my mercifully brief visits to the fascist haven that is the rpgcodex forums that sawyer is a quite strong critic of how the classic infinity engine games actually played, and despite my fondness for RPGs of that style, i find myself very much on his side. there's a reason these games struggle to find new fans that aren't just going to turn the games down to the lowest difficulty to sidestep most of the actual playing of it as much as possible: advanced dungeons and dragons is not, by any metric, an elegant or intuitive system at the best of times, and while real-time with pause was an elegant solution to just how long combat in d&d can go on for (larian's proud statements that BG3 has an authentic, turn-based translation of 5E rules should absolutely terrify any prospective players), it only raises the barrier to entry for those not already au fe with ad&d's eccentricities.

pillars of eternity feels utterly unique in that it is a real-time with pause CRPG based on rules that were designed for a video game, and not for a very different medium, and as a result it is...actually good and fun. the rules and statistics are far clearer, the resource game is far more sensical, and the pace of encounters is such that individual moves are less frequent but far more impactful, maintaining the weighty impact turns have in a traditional turn-based game at a speed far more under your own control. experientially, pillars of eternity feels closer to FF12 than it does baldur's gate, with a sliding scale of playstyles ranging from making each move with care and precision, to writing full AI scripts for each member of the party and letting battles play out automatically at hyperspeed.

when i play games in this genre, i usually keep the difficulty low and drop it even lower if i encounter friction. but with pillars, i kept the difficulty on normal the entire way through because I genuinely enjoyed the gameplay and tactical puzzles it presented. it helped me to see, for the first time, why someone might prefer rtwp over turn-based, and when i started a pillars of eternity 2 playthrough shortly after playing this, i decided to stick to real-time rather than playing the game's new turn-based mode, because i became genuinely enamoured with this system.

pillars of eternity is in the unique position of being a baldur's gate homage that doesn't feel like it holds any particular reverence or great love for baldur's gate, and makes good on that position by well and truly killing bg's darlings where the system design is concerned. this isn't exactly uncharted territory for obsidian: but despite it's progressive approach to it's combat, it feels much more burdened by it's legacy than either kotor 2 or neverwinter nights 2, neither as caustic as the former nor as quietly confident as the latter. it sits uncomfortably among many of the things it does, inherited and otherwise.

to demonstrate: this is, in many ways, a d&d-ass setting. it's a roughly-medieval setting in a temperate forested coastal region, and yet the dyrwood is not medieval france/britain like the sword coast is, it's far closer to colonial canada both in terms of regional politics and technology. you have humans, you have elves, you have dwarves, and things that are kinda like gnomes but with the serial numbers filed off, you have the godlike, which are a twist on the aasimar/tieflings of d&d, each with their own gygaxian race science bonuses to stats, but aside from the aforementioned fantasy racism with the beastmen, these fantasy races matter less in the actual story than national identities and cultures, which makes one question why the race science stuff is even here. even stepping into the mechanical dimension, most of the classes are reasonably interesting interpretations of classic stock d&d archetypes like fighter, wizard, paladin, etc, but the two unique classes, chanter and cipher, are so obviously the design highlights and work in a way that would be incredibly difficult in a tabletop game but are beautiful in a video game. they eagerly invite the question of what this game would look like if it wasn't obligated to include the d&d obligations within it.

while i can't speak for every member of the development team, i know that for je sawyer, pillars of eternity was not necessarily a game he wanted to make - at least not in the way that it ended up being made. elements like the traditional fantasy setting, the real-time with pause gameplay, and even the presence of elves, were all things that were there to fulfil the demands of a kickstarter promising a baldur's gate throwback from a company that had fallen on difficult times. these things that feel like obligations feel like that because they are obligations: concessions to appeal to expectations and desires forged by nostalgia for a game that obsidian didn't actually make. these aren't the only visible compromises that mark the game - "compromise" being perhaps a generous word to describe the game's obnoxious kickstarter scars - but it is this tug of war between the parts of itself that wish to remain within the walls of baldur's gate, and the parts that cry out for escape, that ultimately defines pillars of eternity.

while maddening dreams and an epidemic of children born without souls is what drives the plot of pillars of eternity, the story is really in the conversations between tradition and very colonialist notions of progress, and the very opinionated characters you converse with along the way. likeable characters will hold quietly conservative worldviews that feel natural for them, people will say the right things for the wrong reasons, or the wrong things for the right reasons. friendly characters will have beliefs that are extremely distasteful to you but are so deeply held that there is no way to use the power granted to you by being the player character to dissuade them from their belief system with a few honeyed words. this is not a game where each element works towards a clear thematic conclusion, one that confidently knows what is right and what is wrong when discussing the things it brings up. it is a messy world filled with ugliness and argument and contradiction, and no clear definitive statement on its themes. it has a perspective, but it is not one held with immense confidence. it is a perspective mired with doubts and second-guessing that feels very conscious and deliberate. in particular, the final hour of the game has a twist that recontextualises the nature of the setting, but it's noticeable just how much of the cast, both in this game and in the sequel. find this not to be a redefining moment of their lives, but simply something they have to let sit in their gut like a millstone. it lets them see with new light things they once valued, but they feel unable to simply cast those things aside.

i have a particular distaste for critiques in geek circles narrow their focus on what a work is saying to only the series or genre the work finds itself in, and ignoring whatever resonance it might have to the world outside the fiction, subconsciously because the author has little experience of that world. and yet, it's difficult to read pillars of eternity without looking at it's relationship to baldur's gate and it's ilk, especially given how it kickstarted (lol) the late 2010s CRPG revival that led to breakout hits like divinity: original sin 2 and disco elysium. it walks in the meadows of the past with an uneasy rhythm, constantly expressing it's discomfort with being there but never quite being able to find the way out. even at the end of the game, there is delightfully scarce resolution to the weighty philosophical questions raised by the final act - the immediate crisis dealt with, certainly, but the game ends on a world that has raised questions rather than answered them, and while you may have your own thoughts and perspectives, there is no great victory of ideologies to be found, no grand, world-defining choice about what to do with the wisdom of the past. it's a game that simply ends with you emerging back into a world that is materially largely unchanged but colored so different by the new perspective you have on it. it is a game that is deliriously inconclusive.

one could word that as a criticism - and indeed, a strict formalist lens would probably find it as such - but honestly, it's what i find delightful and resonant about pillars of eternity. i'm someone who thinks generally very poorly about d&d as a game, but my intermittently weekly d&d games with my friends that have been going on since the first lockdown have made some incredible memories, a world and story and cast that i find myself hugely invested in. despite my disdain for a lot of the recurring cliches and tropes of the genre, some of my favorite stories are fantasy stories. and despite my active distaste for a lot of the decisions pillars either makes or is stuck with, and indeed for some of the creative minds involved in it's production (chrs avellne's characters were substantially rewritten after his departure from obsidian to such an extent that neither he nor je sawyer recognize them as "his characters" but whoever was behind durance specifically is doing such a conscious avellone impression that i would be remiss not to note that his presence is certainly felt) i still enjoy it immensely regardless.

frequently, engagement with art is a negotiation with the parts about it that speak to us and the parts that fail to do so, where we may be able to excuse or enjoy parts that others find to sink the entire work for them, and it's unexpectedly moving to find a game that was so visibly having that conversation with itself as i played it, and rang so true for the relationship i have with the things that inspired it.

it's a game that embodies the sticky and troubling way all the games and stories of it's ilk sit in my mind and expresses them emotively through a story that, in fits and starts, writes quite powerfully on the unique pains and sensation of memory and tradition and progress. it's a game that feels all the more true, all the more real, for it's contradictions, compromises, and conversations capped off with trailing ellipses, leading down two roads to an uncertain future and a depressingly familiar past.

While I cannot in good conscience call it perfect, or even the best Final Fantasy game, Final Fantasy VIII is indeed a contender for my favorite video game. It is an acquired taste, but should you be a part of the very specific audience that it is aimed at, then there truly is nothing else like it.

FFVIII is best described as abstract: it doesn’t have as solidly defined a setting as some of its contemporaries, its gameplay is much more open-ended and left up to the player’s discretion in terms of strategy, the narrative is loose at best, and its themes and message are an odd hodgepodge of several interconnected ideas and theories rather than a single, concrete point. What FFVIII does have to offer is raw feeling, a poignance about its atmosphere and what it conveys with its storytelling that resonates profoundly if you’re willing to play by its rules (or are naturally dispositioned towards some of its ideas to begin with).

The plot, on paper, is simple enough: in a colorful high-Fantasy-turned-science fiction setting, we follow Squall Leonhart, a child soldier turned mercenary who has little ambition or purpose in life other than to become a competent, respected SeeD (for-profit mercenary). When a mission he and his team are hired for goes awry, Squall finds himself in the midst of a global conspiracy involving an ongoing global war and a mysterious, maleficent sorceress at the helm of it all. Most of the story involves Squall’s struggle to understand and accept his role in the global crisis as well as understand himself, and his growing bond with secondary protagonist Rinoa Heartilly (a member of a resistance sect poised against the ruthless imperialist nation of Galbadia).

From there... things get weird.

The plot is compelling in its own right and features a few fun (if not sometimes contrived or predictable) plot twists, but ultimately takes a backseat to the purpose it serves: establishing, developing and growing Squall and Rinoa’s characters. While plot events often have substantial narrative weight, most of what you’ll gleam from them (and want to look for) is what they tell you about the characters and the insight into their psyches. FFVIII addresses a great variety of topics that all interlink together in a tight-wound web of themes, ranging from trauma to war to time to family, all of which reflect heavily on the characters’ emotional development and personalities. Character writing is truly where FFVIII shines, and the little pieces of interaction between the cast are what will stick with you more than the bombastic action sequences. It’s a rare feat for a simple conversation or flashback to be more memorable than a fully-animated FMV sequence, but these small moments of interaction and connection are what I find myself thinking about the most often and remembering the most fondly.

Beyond our two protagonists, FFVIII has a somewhat small but lovable and memorable cast, set aside from most other Final Fantasy titles in that they’re mostly believable everyday people. As such, their characters are often not as complex or layered as the series makes a habit out of committing to, but FFVIII manages to make simplicity work in the most endearing of ways: some of the game’s most charming and enduring characters are the Momma’s-boy Zell Dincht who lives at home with his mother and has a passion for mixed martial arts, the smug and conceited teacher Quistis Trepe who acts as Squall’s mentor, and the cocky country-boy Irvine Kinneas who transfers to Squall’s team as a sharpshooter. Some of these characters transcend the convention one might associate with their description, while others embody them so wholly and blatantly that they become brilliant. FFVIII’s cast might hold hidden depths, or they might really be genuine with who they are and exemplify it to the fullest.

FFVIII’s gameplay is a controversial topic, and most often why people disparage the game if not for a dislike of Squall’s distant personality. This is understandable: it’s quite intricate and unconventional, and rarely does the game do a good job of explaining how to use it to the fullest. FFVIII retires the JRPG standard of mana meters and spell learning in favor of magic being dispensable items that can either be used in combat, or equipped (“junctioned” in game terms) to the player’s stats rather than armor or accessories, replacing level grinding as the proper method to grow characters’ stats. Said magic can be refined from cards won in the game’s Triple Triad minigame (the most efficient way of earning magic, despite the game never clarifying this) or “drawn” from enemies during combat as well as specific points in the world map. Junctioning is performed via Guardian Forces, equippable summons that each carry unique abilities and characteristics of their own. It’s true that FFVIII’s complex systems can be overwhelming and disorienting for those used to a conventional JRPG experience, but if learned and understood the amount of customization and optimization is unparalleled especially for the time period. Even if the story and characters don’t appeal to you, if you have any investment in JRPG gameplay for the sake of gameplay then it doesn’t get better than FFVIII’s complex statistic management systems.

Finally... the music. It’s incredible, one of my favorites in any game, and is worked into the storytelling in a very unique way. The scenes which take place in the present day have a sweeping, fully-orchestrated sound whereas those that take place in flashbacks to the distant past have a high-tech futuristic sound, a fun inversion of the standard one might expect from or associate with conventions of the genres.

With all of this being said: FFVIII is a unique game that caters to a very specific audience, and it banks entirely on whether or not you “get it.” If you do, you do, and if you don’t, you don’t. It’s very possible it may not simply be for you, but the best way to find out is to jump in with an open mind (and a willingness to lead the game’s systems!).

For me...? It means more to me personally than I can say, and I can only hope you’ll find as much in it as I have.