Culture & Final Fantasy XV— (In)congruence?
Watching Final Fantasy XV from the sidelines was a treat by itself. I’ve been hearing much about the critically-acclaimed series, but have had little personal contact, with the exception of Final Fantasy VII’s ‘The Airship’ to be played for a practical music exam and a section of a Final Fantasy movie watched by pals at a holiday chalet.
Noctis and his friends travel across multiple areas in the open world, acquiring new swords, encountering trials and tribulation, and just like any other typical Japanese game, experiencing petty, whilst occasionally reasonable, relationship issues. This is all with the end goal of him re-conquering the kingdom he lost, but at the tragic demise of himself.
First off, the Asian character design of Noctis and his friends did not seem to fit the characteristically western open world. Noctis sports jet-black hair, with a hairstyle not dissimilar to that of a front lead in a Japanese rock band. Ignis, with his gifted education, is reminiscent of the glasses-equals-smart-boy-animation-trope, perhaps not dissimilar to Bleach’s Uryuu. These traits would enable the general viewer to expect a Japanese-themed environment — where else would you find these characters?
However, they are placed in a world that is starkly dissimilar.Take their vehicle for instance. The Quartz Regalia was made in mould of the American Cadillac Ciel and the British Rolls-Royce, and not the corresponding sports or convertible models of the Japanese Toyota. Also, the sprawling acres (gigabytes) of land are littered with areas which are American-styled. The gas stations as well as convenience stores do not house any traditionally-Japanese paraphernalia or staff, but house, for example, a skimpily-attired woman wearing a cap (Cindy) — not unlike what you might find (or might want to find) in a American baseball stadium. The Westernized context makes me, the viewer, a little unsettled, a little sour at the sense that the game was being developed and directed for Western-based sales and subsequent profit, rather than sticking to its roots. This makes the experience feel like a jack-of-all-trades, one that tries too much at appeasing a broad set of viewers, but failing at that.
Another criticism I have for the game is its somewhat fluctuating depth of relationship between its characters. Noctis and his pals experience much trials, as mentioned earlier, and one I felt was key was Prompto’s one. We see Prompto being revealed as a clone, one who was produced for military warfare by the Niflheim Empire somewhere midway along the story, and Prompto has to come to terms with the nature of his existence, and also sees the need to regain the acceptance of his friends. This struggle is depicted at depth, with Prompto’s self-conflict revealed in his frowning face amongst other expressions and him tearing (or nearly did, I can’t remember) at the ready acceptance of his friends. This was a heartening end to his part of the arc, and the friendship necessarily deepens. However, when Noctis returns after 10 years, we see no such level of passion and joy; the most we experience is a whoop from Prompto — no tearing, hugging or lengthy discussion, just quick acceptance, with an air of ‘let’s move onto the next sequence of the game’. This makes the depth of relationship a little questionable. Do the friends find mere acceptance of each other sufficient at maintaining a close friendship, but other aspects such as physical proximity, the separation of time and space do not matter? The intuitive mind says no, but perhaps information on the traditionally Japanese relationship could cast light on why this occurs.
In Japan, perceptions on interpersonal relationships are rigid. The process of how one makes friends is mediated by another party and, more often than not, alcohol. This is primarily due to the strong stresses of self-control enforced upon social relations; people are expected to be polite to one another, and reveal as little as possible about their personal selves. With such boundaries to developing close friendships, it would definitely be expected for the Japanese to have a smaller number of close friends, and there being rigidity in these close friendships — i.e. close friends stay as close friends. Perhaps more importantly, the Japanese have developed an awareness of the fact that close friends stay as close friends; as such, the separation of space or time may not matter anymore: you are secure in the knowledge that he or she is still your friend.
It seems, so far, that the game has a somewhat hit-and-miss relationship with the expectations of Japanese culture. Perhaps a deeper sociological analysis would provide deeper insight on the nature of our expectations and what the game really achieves. Until then, we’ll have to be satisfied with what’s shown to us.
