I just wrapped up Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker’s MSQ (main scenario quests) last night. As usual, when I finish a fantastic game, I’ve been struggling to find a good angle to start discussing it from. I could just review it as an MMORPG… but that would miss the best of what Endwalker has to offer. I honestly considered using this as an excuse to do a deep dive into nihilism… but, frankly, the game does a good enough job of that on its own.
No, to talk about Endwalker, we really need to consider it as a Final Fantasy game. From this perspective, everything else will fall into place. In short: Endwalker is the most Final Fantasy Final Fantasy.
There will be spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker in this post.
What makes a Final Fantasy game a Final Fantasy game?
I expect that anyone who will bother to read this post already has a good idea of what makes a Final Fantasy game, but let’s briefly touch on this just to make sure we’re on the same page.
Superficially, we have the mascots, like chocobo, moogle, and cactaur. Benevolent crystals. A warrior, or warriors, of light. We have a guy named Cid who owns a flying machine. We have black, white, red, and blue mages (with rules and outfits that are mostly consistent between games.)
That stuff’s all great, but what of themes and tropes? What makes you excited about a new Final Fantasy game and what would you miss if it was left out?
- The villain is edgy and incomprehensible. They’re generally driven by existential nihilism and gain their power from some cosmic or divine source. The final battle will see them transform into something horrifying, often inspired by Western religious or mythological art.
- The heroes demonstrate growth through character arcs, generally overcoming some sort of despair to arrive at some rationale of hope which culminates in a determination to overcome the villain’s nihilism.
- There’s usually a time travel paradox or another world, sometimes both. Changes in scope heighten the feeling of adventure.
- The music is epic and it works well to represent themes from the game.
I’m sure we could come up with some more points, but this feels like a good foundation. These are pretty common among JRPGs in general, but they’re critical to the feel of a Final Fantasy game. When I talk about what I like from a Final Fantasy game, it usually falls under one of these points. When I’m disappointed in a Final Fantasy game, it’s generally because I felt that one of these points was done poorly.
Notably, these points aren’t necessarily good or bad, they’re just key to Final Fantasy. If someone wants to criticize a Final Fantasy game for having a convoluted plot or a ridiculously edgy villain, there’s usually not much you can say in defense. Yeah, Kefka isn’t really a believable or deep character, but I’ll never forget that laugh or that final battle. The very first Final Fantasy has a time paradox that really wasn’t necessary at all, but it was still cool – who cares if it didn’t make sense? Plenty of games have realism, sometimes you just want a crazy edgelord to turn into an angel from Revelation and throw planets at you.
…the music’s just good and anyone who thinks otherwise can fight me.
Final Fantasy XIV is an MMORPG, so it could – perhaps – be forgiven for not hitting all the same notes as the main series games… but Endwalker not only delivers on all of that, but it does so in a way that just works. I’m not saying that it’s the perfect game – the MSQ gameplay experience is pretty bad, frankly – but it’s kind of the perfect Final Fantasy game.
Our edgelord villain
I definitely don’t want to knock Final Fantasy villains too much here. I love villains like Exdeath and Kefka. They’re just evil. There’s no real attempt made to explain why they’re like that. Chaos really does this best: there’s literally no attempt made at all to explain why Chaos is evil: he shows up pretty much out of nowhere in Garland’s place and we understand immediately that he’s a bad guy and we need to stop him. Necron‘s another good example: that guy came out of nowhere.
I’ve heard that, during the filming of Alien, Bolaji Badejo – the guy who played the Xenomorph – was largely kept apart from the rest of the cast in order to heighten the sense of otherness from the cast while filming. That exaggerated otherness is a lot of what draws me to horror and weird fiction. Maybe that’s why I enjoy incomprehensible, cosmic villains so much.
But… as fun as they are, Final Fantasy villains don’t generally make much sense if you really consider them critically.
Seymour is a good example of this specifically because, with Seymour, there was a real attempt to give him a backstory that adds up to his worldview. He’s biracial, guado and human, and his childhood was harsh and lonely. Between his unhappy personal life and the seasonal tragedy of Sin, it makes sense for him to see all life as suffering – more so given the Buddhist-inspired religion of Final Fantasy X.
Still though… going from that to trying to end all life to save people from the pain of existence is a big jump. It’s not entirely unbelievable: mass violence due to radical worldviews is definitely a real thing. But, it’s not particularly convincing. I can find Seymour sympathetic, but most people wouldn’t come to the same conclusions if put through the same circumstances.
Zemus is another example of a Final Fantasy villain that makes at least some sense, but ultimately fails to be persuasive. He just wants exterminate humanity so his race can take the Earth. This is believable, but it’s not really persuasive unless you’re a Lunarian.
Zenos Galvus is Final Fantasy XIV’s classical villain in this line, more similar to Kefka than to Seymour or Zemus. Zenos’s nihilism extends to an extreme form of hedonism: he really only cares about thrilling combat. He’ll end or save the world just for a few minutes of excitement. He’s just crazy, with no attempt to make him believable or convincing at all.
Again, there’s not necessarily anything wrong with this. Zenos was a fun villain!
But Meteion is definitely more impactful.
Meteion is an “entelechy,” which in XIV is an empathic being who feels the emotions of people around them and is based on dynamis – an emotional force – rather than aether. This is sort of similar to the philosophical definition of entelechy as “a vital force that directs an organism toward self-fulfillment.”
Dynamis itself is kind of neat in that aether and dynamis work similar to electromagnetism and gravity. Aether is an extremely potent force that binds things together to create matter comprised of one or more elements. It’s a much stronger force than dynamis, so it’s difficult to even observe the effect of dynamis on something comprised of aether. Yet, aether binds things only over a short distance, whereas dynamis retains its potency on a cosmic scale. Gravity can’t pull my keyboard down, through my desk, because the electromagnetic bonds in my desk and in my keyboard are much stronger than the pull of Earth’s gravity, but these electromagnetic bonds don’t really affect things even a very short distance away. If I pick my keyboard up, off my desk, then the bonds in my keyboard and in my desk really don’t affect each other. Yet, the pull of gravity from innumerable directions affects everything. Likewise for aether and dynamis: thinking unpleasant thoughts at a person won’t tear their aether apart, but these unpleasant thoughts travel much further. Like a great syzygy of all the stars in the galaxy, if every world in the universe thought unpleasant thoughts in the same direction, that sum could overwhelm even the powerful bonds of aether.
Meteion was created with an affinity for dynamis both to allow her to better understand the thoughts and feelings of alien life and for the practical need to sustain herself while traveling through space without a ready source of aether. This is all great sci-fi worldbuilding and I vastly prefer this to something like Final Fantasy XIII’s extraordinarily convoluted fal’Cie.
The many Meteion sisters are sent into space to search for intelligent life and ask them what they live for. (Yes, you do eventually get the option to tell someone that the meaning of life is “42.”) With her empathic abilities, she has the means to truly understand whatever answer she receives. Hermes, her creator, does all of this because he’s depressed, despite living as a near god in paradise among a race where he’s the only person who feels sorrow (at least, this is his perception.) Hermes’ hope is that Meteion will find answers to the meaning of life that will fix his despair.
As is revealed in some just fantastic cutscenes, Meteion successfully finds several other populated worlds and poses her question… only to discover that nobody has an answer. Every single civilization she encountered had either died before her arrival or had reached some unhappy dead-end. Every surviving civilization longed for death. Sadly, Meteion didn’t merely record their responses, but truly felt them. The sisters share a hive consciousness of sorts, so they each also share the combined despair of the many worlds who collectively found their own end, either through suicide, war, disease, or simple stagnation. As a final blow, the Meteion sister that we meet bears the responsibility of telling Hermes that there is no answer to his question… and then feeling his despair as well. She tries to flee, sparing both Hermes and herself, but we play a hand in catching her and forcing her to give her dreadful report.
Overcome with so much despair, the Meteion sisters build a nest at the edge of the universe and begin singing a dynamis-fueled song of oblivion, reaching all the way to Etheirys (the planet XIV takes place on,) mercifully providing an end to all life.
“Though worlds apart, these peoples shared a belief. The belief that they had tried their best. That they had tried to fulfill their potential, with every step and success. In the course of which they learned the truth. That they would never be free of fear and sorrow, anger and despair – of loneliness – so long as they yet lived. Even now, their souls cry out for oblivion. And to this song of anguish, I lend my voice. We lend our voice. O beloved mankind, shimmering jewels of beautiful Etheirys… Rejoice, for we will free you from the cruel yoke of existence. There is no need to struggle in vain, for in nihility awaits salvation. You will know peace and serenity…and it will be beautiful. We will make our nest at the edge of the universe, and there in the dark of dead worlds hoard sorrow and suffering. There we will sing, our chorus ever louder and ever clearer, that our song may reach even this aether-shrouded star.
Such is the answer we have found in the stars. Such is the gift we now offer to Etheirys.”
The end of Meteion’s report
Meteion’s goal here is almost exactly the same as Seymour’s: end all life and prevent rebirth to spare everyone the misery of existence. But, Meteion’s arc is… pretty persuasive. The stories she tells of the miserable worlds she encountered are legitimately depressing. If The Great Filter is a technical problem then it’s easy to keep hope that someday we’ll overcome it. But, hell, what if it’s just that gaining the ability to colonize the stars requires learning the futility of it. It’s a haunting idea demonstrated well.
But, what I love most about Meteion is that she, herself, is truly sympathetic. The civilizations she discovered were depressing, but Meteion herself has the hardest experience: hoarding all of that suffering to spare everyone else.
When we first meet Meteion, she’s a cheerful girl. Her favorite food is caramel apples… not that she can actually eat them herself. They’re Hermes’ favorite food and she delights in experiencing his joy secondhand.
We quickly learn that Hermes is depressed. At the heart of his despair is the treatment of artificially created life. He oversees a facility for creating and observing new life forms to determine whether they would improve a real ecosystem somewhere. If they’re successful, then they’re moved from the test facility into an appropriate environment. If they’re flawed, then they’re destroyed, returning their aether to the world. While there, we help Hermes eradicate a species that’s too violent and Hermes reacts… well, pretty much how I wanted to. Perhaps the species is flawed, but it’s terribly sad for the individual test subjects. Yet, no one else seems to care.
The ancient people of Etheirys have some interesting, perhaps “enlightened,” views on individuality and death. Individuals wear plain black robes and masks to hide their identities, as a show of modesty. Death isn’t a painful inevitability but a voluntary reward for a life lived fully. Venat, the woman who becomes Hydaelyn, is strange in that she chose to retire to a continued existence of charitable work rather than returning to the planet.
Part of me respects this sense of ethics and duty… but it’s all voluntary. When we meet Hermes, he’s being vetted for an important position that he rejects. He rejects it because doing so would make him feel complicit in the former holder of that position’s suicide. This inability to handle voluntary death of a peer makes sense to me, but it’s hard to say how it would feel to such and advanced civilization. Applying the same rationale to the involuntary extermination of “flawed” lifeforms artificially created may feel the same to these being, but I’m going to put my foot down here: it’s just not the same at all.
Yet, Hermes is not only depressed over this situation, but also because no one else seems to feel this way. There are flowers all around the facility that share its name called “Elpis.” They’re basically living mood rings, changing color based on the emotions of people around them. In this place, they’re all always white… except when Hermes is near.
Shortly after meeting Meteion, she discovers that we – too – harbor feelings of despair. We only traveled through time to this place in a desperate attempt to save our world from imminent destruction, after all. We’ve seen a lot of death. Despite the sadness this must cause Meteion, she’s thrilled: if we can show Hermes that we, too, hold a mix of both joy and despair then maybe he won’t feel so alone.
In a flashback, we Hermes speaking to one of the Meteion before sending her out into space. As a reward when she returns, she asks for an apple… but Hermes wants to give her something she can actually enjoy personally: a beautiful flower.
From just this post, it might seem like we spend a lot of time with Meteion, but she doesn’t even show up until more than half way through Endwalker and we only interact with her while in the past. Still, that time quickly establishes that she’s a sweet girl. Cheerful… though it seems that some of this cheer is a facade, as she’s constantly feeling the despair of her creator. She has to put on a happy face to keep him happy if she wants that happiness reflected in her.
Then she travels out into the loneliness of space only to encounter civilization after civilization of dead and despairing peoples who want only for death. Given her nature, how is Meteion to resist this onslaught of negative emotions? At Meteion’s nest – Ultima Thule – we encounter reconstructed memories of some of these civilizations. Here we also learn that Meteion is hoarding not only the despair of these peoples but also their very souls, preventing them from being reborn. We feel sympathy for the various civilizations themselves… but it pales in comparison to the tragedy of Meteion’s own existence.
If Meteion wasn’t an existential nihilist, I’d call it unrealistic. This might be the most tragic character I can think of, if only because any other tragedy I can imagine is likely aggregated into what Meteion’s taken upon herself.
There’s a scene shortly before the final battle with Meteion where we talk to one of them directly. In that scene, we’re finally able to give her the flowers that she was promised many of thousands of years in the past. It’s… probably the most heart-wrenching scene in any Final Fantasy game. Anyone who cried at Aeris’s death but not at this just isn’t paying attention.
Of course, things can’t just end with a conversation: this is a Final Fantasy game. We rekindle hope in one of the Meteion sisters, but the remainder merge to form a simply perfect Final Fantasy boss, taking some major cues from Sephiroth.
So, again, I need to emphasize here that this is very Final Fantasy, but it makes a lot more sense than usual. The form she takes here is pretty similar to Sephiroth’s ridiculous form. Now, you could argue that Sephiroth’s arc had several biblical references and therefore it made some sense for him to look a bit like an angel from Revelation… but, come on, that’s a stretch. Meteion, on the other hand, is a bird girl. She’s part harpy, part siren, and she has Hermes’ winged helmet built in. Transforming into a bigger bird woman with more wings isn’t much of a stretch at all. Throwing planets – planets that are pretty small in combat – is still pretty weird, but it’s at least as thematically appropriate as Sephiroth blowing up the whole solar system, given that she’s hoarding the souls and memories of many dead worlds.
I just love this so much. It’s as bizarre as any Final Fantasy boss, but it feels earned. In the moment, it made sense to me.
The fight itself was also pretty cool. I don’t want to get too deep into combat in Final Fantasy XIV in this post, but it was a well-designed trial in terms of gameplay.
In classic JRPG fashion, there’s a moment where we’re only kept alive by the prayers of our friends. Once again, the trope is hit perfectly, despite the MMORPG format, but it also actually makes sense. Meteion’s nest is a realm of dynamis where emotions dictate reality. This isn’t just a touching moment… it actually makes sense given the world-building and was foreshadowed hours before it happened.
When the fight is all over, we get to speak with the last Meteion directly. In that moment, we get to hold her hand and think back on our adventure and on our friends. In that moment, Meteion finally sees the error of her question.
“Yes, I can see them… The memories of a long, long journey… So many people… The thoughts of them overflowing in your heart… What they live for, what gives their lives meaning… There was never a single answer. you gather pieces of happiness, precious and fragile, only to lose them. Then start again. On and on it goes, until death takes you into its gentle embrace. That which Hermes sent us to find…was there all this time. On Etheirys.
The player either says “It wasn’t always there.” or “We created it together.”
Like a field of flowers, perhaps. At first a single blossom, it spreads and takes on more colors. Thank you for guiding me here. To find these words at journey’s end fills me with joy. And so, before I fall forever silent, there is one thing I must do. No expression of regret will undo what my sisters and I have done. Will restore what we have stolen. But if you would allow it, I would sing one last song. A song of the newfound joy that swells in my heart… Of the beauty of light when it shines across a dark and starless sea… Of a dream that from the soil of worlds no lost to sorrow, life will spring forth once more… Nourished by gentle rains and caressed by uplifting winds. A song of hope.
One day, life will fill the universe again. And Hermes will see this and smile. How, I do not know. But I do know that, where there is a will, there is a way. After all, miracles happen every day, do they not?”
Such a sweet (or bittersweet) and hopeful ending; once again, perfect for a Final Fantasy game.
But wait, don’t Final Fantasy games also have superbosses after the story?
After all of that, Zenos – who showed up earlier to help us reach Meteion – walks back into the scene for a final boss battle.
“You mean to return. To the world where you are hailed as a hero. Hear me then. Not as a hero, but as simply… you. As I learned in Ala Mhigo, you are a formidable foe. Stronger than any I have faced. Against you, I need to bring my all to bear. I need burn through the candle of my life. This is the sole pleasure I know, and it is the sole pleasure I have to share. And so I come before you. to issue a challenge and offer singular bliss. If you wish to walk away, I will not stop you. You value life. You do not burn yours save for reasons you deem worthy. Reasons such as those which brought you here. The salvation of a world and its people. The motives of a hero true.
But there is more to you than that. You know this to be true. As surely as you know the thrill of pushing your body and soul to their limits. Of confronting ever-mightier foes, dancing ever closer to the precipice, wondering if this will be the one to finally, finally…fill the void.
Such pleasures, you seek for their own sake, and no other reason. Is this not so…adventurer?”
The player gets to choose between
“That, I can’t deny.”
“Think what you will. But I’m not letting you leave this place.”
“I’ve had enough of you. It ends here.”Assuming you’re honest, you pick “That, I can’t deny”
“Acceptance. At long last. The conflagration of our clash will scorch even the stars!”
The fight itself is long and it’s awesome. Not as difficult as most Final Fantasy superbosses, but hard enough to feel right. In classic style, Zenos has several health bars and changes form part way through. By the end, it turns into a fist fight, until we finally prevail and return to our ship… leaving Zenos to his fate, defeated, at the edge of the universe.
I want to really emphasize how perfectly clever this is.
At this point, we’ve already saved the universe from Meteion. The story’s over and we could just go home. Final Fantasy XIV is an MMORPG, so we already know that there will be more endgame content. But, as a capstone for the main story, what we have here is a superboss that’s option for our character but not for us. What’s more, Zenos knows that he’s a superboss. We’re not fighting him to be a hero, we’re fighting him for the challenge and bragging rights.
One of the most difficult of these bosses in the entire Final Fantasy series is Shinryu from Final Fantasy V. In Final Fantasy XIV, Zenos himself has merged with Shinryu and can take this form. In fact, the entire fight against Meteion takes place on Shinryu’s back.
Zenos is literally a Final Fantasy superboss from one of the “normal,” single-player games. He’s also a superboss thematically, in that we don’t really need to fight him. He’s not a superboss for us, the players – he’s a superboss for The Warrior of Light. I think this is really clever and I absolutely love it.
Our hopeful heroes
A common trope in Final Fantasy is for the heroes to all have a little speech shortly before the final boss where they explain how they’ve grown throughout the game and why they’re determined to beat the final boss and save the world.
Final Fantasy VI is probably the best example of this, both because of the simple statements from the characters… and Kefka’s mocking response.
Endwalker continues this trope, but stretches it out over the entirety of Ultima Thule. There are four zones withing Ultima Thule, each a manifestation of a dead civilization that Meteion encountered. Each civilization has succumbed to a different nihilistic worldview, but each has reached a dead end for their society. To move past each region, someone must refute their nihilism and sacrifice their form to clear the way forward.
The first is a world of dragons, the very world where the dragons we know from the rest of Final Fantasy XIV are from. Their world was invaded and conquered by machines in a terrible war that left the land so polluted and the resources so diminished that the invaders simply left the survivors to their misery upon the completion of their conquest. The remaining dragons were left unable to raise new children in the polluted environment and with their pride shattered at their defeat. Even the notion that they could fly to a new world, as the dragons on Etheirys did, is unappealing, as they see war as inevitable. Rather than striving to make a new home and forge a lasting peace for their race, they simply wish to give in to their despair and wait for the inevitable, cursing their long lives as they wait for death.
This… isn’t all that different from how Estinien used to think. Ever seeking vengeance for his family, he devoted his life to warring against dragons. Yet, through the events of Heavensward, he eventually learned peace is possible, but it needs to be fought for with even more strength and determination than war for the sake of revenge. When the way forward is blocked by a dragon who wishes only to wait for death, Estinien steps up to clear the path.
“Had your brethren made the selfsame choice, my family might still be alive. Yet lasting peace does not come to those who simply retreat from conflict. No, you must be willing to confront it. To stare into the face of your foe…and see yourself in him. Only then can you break the cycle of torment and tragedy. This lesson, a dear friend taught me at the risk of his life. There is no nobility in your “penance.” You wallow in self-pity. And after everything we’ve endured, we will not let you stop us!”
With that, Estinien vanishes and we can move to the second realm.
The second civilization is probably the single coolest thing to come out of Endwalker, the Ea.
The Ea are an incredibly advanced race who have left their physical forms behind, attaining true immortality. They have mastered all the secrets of the universe and achieved perfection.
Yet, they did not find happiness. Having learned the secrets of the universe, they’ve also learned of the inevitable heat death to come. Though the time scale is immense, their immortality means that they will all done day meet it. Despite achieving perfection, their accomplishments will ultimately “not matter” because they are not permanent. Now, all they can do is decide how they’ll end. Some simply use a device to dissipate their essence while others – “traditionalists” – endeavor to regain mortal forms so they can experience natural death.
They reveal their secrets to our group only hesitantly, sad in the knowledge that we – too – will now be cursed to know the terrible secret of the universe: nothing lasts forever and therefore nothing truly matters.
This strict adherence to academic knowledge is reminiscent of how Y’shtola once lived. Yet, through her journeys, her understanding of knowledge itself has deepened.
“Of one thing I am absolutely certain: I would not be happier in ignorance. The most important lesson I’ve learned…is that learning isn’t simply passing one’s eyes over words. Nay… ‘Tis when understood for oneself that knowledge attains its true value. This is what has sustained me. Driven me onward in joy and wonder. In anger and sorrow. The universe may end, and all may be for naught. But I will live as I always have. I will always seek out new knowledge. And no conclusion of yours, no matter how grim, can dampen my desire.”
Urianger, who has always struggled with indecisiveness and regret, steps forward alongside Y’shtola to lend his will as well, confident that what he’s learned of prophecy and in dealing with other life forms gives him the mental malleability to be of use in reshaping the way forward.
The third civilization are machines. The same machines who conquered the dragons and sent Omega to Etheirys. Most of them show no emotion at all, but we gradually come to see that the overseer is filled with despair.
Their civilization wasn’t always mechanical. They were a frail race, constantly threatened by others. To compete, they augmented themselves, eventually learning how to digitize their intelligence and sacrificing everything about themselves to attain great power. With this power, they waged an interplanetary war to eliminate any potential threats…. until there were none. In the end, they simply waited, in a constant state of combat readiness, for a new threat to appear. When none did, the overseer began to question what their purpose was. Is this victory?
If this was the only way, then what now? They’ve eliminated all threats, but they don’t have the means to ever reclaim what they lost. They shed their original forms so long ago that they don’t even remember what they were. Perhaps there’s nothing of them left, and so there’s no way forward. “I have no aspirations. No longer can I dream. The vital spark is lost.” Are they Theseus’s original ship, or a different one?
Here, G’raha Tia steps forward. His journey has been a strange one. He’s traveled through time, lived an extraordinarily long life, and merged consciousnesses with himself across timelines. He lived as an extension of the crystal tower in the First for a long time, yet to everyone else he knows little time passed at all. He’s always been obsessed with stories of heroes, such as that of The Warrior of Light, and struggled to see that he – too – has lived a life worth of of grand story.
“If you would humor me a moment – when we awaken each morning, how can we prove that we’re the same individual who retired the night before? Through the remembrance of past events, we might say. We have our memories. Yet there are times when we forget, or recall incorrectly. What of our bodies, then? It is the same one, we might say. Yet technically speaking, as living beings, our bodies are constantly changing. It will never be as it was at an earlier point of time. Our souls are no more immutable. On our star, people are known to inherit the souls of others, yet they are decidedly different beings. For my part, I’ve subjected my totality to much and more. I’ve made my body into an extension of a tower. Blended my soul and memories with those of another self. And each time, I would ask myself: what is it that makes me, me?”
The machine asks “Were you able to determine an answer?”
“No. Bot that doesn’t mean I’m confused. It simply means I’m the same as everyone else. So I posit this: who we were need not prescribe what we now hold in our hearts. Whatever came before, what matters most is the present. For me, that is being here with my friends. Full proud of how much we’ve grown together. So I urge you not to give up. Heed your heart’s desire, and hope that the future you long for shall be realized!”
The machine responds: “I…cannot. We cannot. We cannot understand desire, nor comprehend hope. We do not know how to create such things.”
“We’re not unalike, you and I… I too have struggled to find the courage to express and embrace my wants. If you like, I will tell you a tale. A tale of a world on the brink. Of a people who never gave up on the future. Of a man who realized his grandest dreams, and then awakened to a grander reality.”
With that, the way is open once again.
The last civilization manifested in Ultima Thule is utterly devoid of life: only the vestiges of a dead civilization remain. Meteion shows herself, explaining that on this world she didn’t even encounter a civilization asking for death. She doesn’t even know what happened, only that there was once life here but not any more.
At this point, our heroes have been whittled down to just our character and the Leveilleur twins, Alisaie and Alphinaud. Though they hate to leave you alone, they know that they can refute Meteion together.
Though young, both Alisaie and Alphinaud have tasted a great deal of failure in their adventures. From the outside, it’s always been clear that this failure always arose from the best intentions, inexperience, and sometimes just bad luck. Yet, they’ve both struggled with finding the strength to move past their mistakes and risk making new ones.
“For all the power you wield, you’re more fearful than the familiar you used to be. That Meteion feared simply to move forward, but your fear is such that you’ve given up on everything. I know it well. That sense of defeat. I’ve tasted my fair share of it. But as many times as we’ve fallen down, we’ve learned how to pick ourselves up and carry on. We take each other’s hand. Share in each other’s courage. Follow in each other’s footsteps. And turn that sorrow into strength!” – Alisaie
“There are times when we fail. We bear wounds that do not heal. But these experiences are part of life, and they make us stronger!” – Alphinaud
“We rise, fall, and rise again!” – Together
Once again, the way forward is opened.
I really want to emphasize that this is a long-standing trope of Final Fantasy games, but it’s also done just ridiculously well. These aren’t simple platitudes, they’re some real philosophical questions that the writers here are attempting to give real answers to, and they’re using the very long arcs of these characters to do so. Final Fantasy XIV is a really long game, these characters have been through a lot. Everyone playing has witnessed these characters grow and change over years, and it all culminated very well here.
Time travel and other worlds
Okay, this is already getting longer than intended (as it always does, it seems…) so I’m not going to dig too deep here.
Time travel paradoxes have been a staple of Final Fantasy since literally the first game. In Final Fantasy I, you begin the game by defeating the evil knight Garland. For reasons that are barely explained, Garland doesn’t really die there, but gets brought back in time by the elemental fiends. Later, you need to travel back in time to when the fiends were first created. It turns out that Garland was sent back in time when you defeated him by the fiends. In the past, Garland – who is Chaos – sends the fiends to the future, creating a time loop so he can live forever. You defeat Chaos by killing the fiends in the past before they can be sent to the future and then killing Chaos, cutting the time loop. With the world restored, nobody remembers your story because it never actually happened.
It’s… really pretty stupid if you think about it at all. I mean, it’s great, but it’s also pretty stupid. The whole time loop thing doesn’t really do anything for the plot, it’s just a thing that happens for its own sake, because it’s cool.
In Endwalker, we also create a time paradox: we travel back to before the world was sundered looking for clues as to why the world is ending.
What’s great here is that it’s all set up so that it doesn’t need to create a paradox. We arrive in an insubstantial, invisible state, purely to observe. There’s no paradox in simply observing the past.
But, someone notices us, and makes us visible to everyone else. We then go on to have long conversations with one of the game’s primary antagonists, explaining everything that will happen. This creates an obvious paradox. For a while, it starts to seem as though we might have successfully saved the world before it was sundered, thus making everything that’s ever happened in Final Fantasy XIV either nonexistent or part of an alternate timeline.
Then, in a twist that I found absolutely hilarious, a memory-altering device is used to erase the time we were there for everyone but us and Venat, who becomes Hydaelyn. There’s still a bit of a paradox here in that Hydaelyn met us in the past before guiding us to the point where we could travel back to meet her.
Again, I absolutely love this. This is very Final Fantasy. We really didn’t need any time travel or paradox here, but it’s a Final Fantasy game, so I suppose that we kind of did… yet pretty much all of the tricky paradox issues are cleaned up with with the memory erasure. Like the other points I’ve discussed here, not only does this follow the trope, but it does so in a pretty clever way. It’s honestly kind of ambiguous whether we actually created a paradox, as we may not have been essential for Venat to do everything that she did. Plus, by going back in time we’re able to see a lot of great world building. This isn’t just time travel for the sake of having time travel, it was really cool to see Etheirys before the sundering, and we got to learn a lot more about Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus.
I’m really focusing on Endwalker here, but I also want to briefly mention that the other world in Shadowbringers was also done very well and is another great example of a Final Fantasy trope that Final Fantasy XIV did just perfectly.
Epic and thematic music
I’ve been to Distant Worlds live multiple times. I have a whole category in my music library just for Final Fantasy soundtracks and remixes. When someone asked me what my favorite song was for my high school yearbook, I said “Dancing Mad.” I don’t know how high school works these days, but this was definitely not a cool answer at the time.
A huge part of what I like about Final Fantasy is that I’m really not too crazy for liking this music so much: loads of people do. I have been in many rooms where I wasn’t the biggest Final Fantasy music fan.
We don’t love the music simply because it’s good, but because it captures and comes to symbolize specific moments and feelings from the games. “Dancing Mad” isn’t just a rad song, it’s a way to relive the amazing final battle to Final Fantasy VI. “Tifa’s Theme” perfectly captures the feels of nostalgia, romance, and determination present in her character and story.
Remixes and arrangements add a new perspective to these moments. The Distant Worlds orchestration of “Dancing Mad” emphasizes Kefka’s arrogance and numinous display. The Black Mages version emphasizes how badass it feels to beat such a long and challenging battle. Listen to the Celtic Moon version of the Final Fantasy IV theme: doesn’t it really emphasize the whimsy and wonder of that game?
Like a good musical, themes are built up through each game. Motifs are established and carried into moments late in the story as in a good musical. The “Hymn of the Fayth” from Final Fantasy X is repeated throughout the game. Each temple has a slight alteration on it. The bittersweet battle against all of the aeons at the end of the game echoes the theme.
In Final Fantasy XIV, we have a ton of good music, but I’m obviously going to focus on “Answers,” which we were first introduced to in the opening cutscene (features in both the original and A Realm Reborn launch.) It’s the main theme of the game. With “Answers,” we don’t just have a good song, but meaningful lyrics.
I close my eyes, tell us why must we suffer
Release your hands, for your will drags us under
My legs grow tired, tell us where must we wander
How can we carry on if redemption’s beyond us?
To all of my children in whom Life flows abundant
To all of my children to whom Death hath passed his judgement
The soul yearns for honor, and the flesh the hereafter
Look to those who walked before to lead those who walk after
Shining is the Land’s light of justice
Ever flows the Land’s well of purpose
Walk free, walk free, walk free, believe…
The Land is alive, so believe…
Suffer (Feel) Promise (Think) Witness (Teach) Reason
(Hear) Follow (Feel) Wander (Think) Stumble (Teach) Listen
(Speak) Honor (Speak) Value (Tell) Whisper (Tell) Mention
(Hope) Ponder (Hope) Warrant (Wish) Cherish (Wish) Welcome
(Roam) Witness (Roam) Listen (Roam) Suffer (Roam) Sanction
(Sleep) Weather (Sleep) Wander (Sleep) Answer
Sleep on
Now open your eyes while our plight is repeated
Still deaf to our cries, lost in hope we lie defeated
Our souls have been torn, and our bodies forsaken
Bearing sins of the past, for our future is taken
War born of strife, these trials persuade us not
(Feel what? Learn what?)
Words without sound, these lies betray our thoughts
Mired by a plague of doubt, the Land, she mourns
(See what? Hear what?)
Judgement binds all we hold to a memory of scorn
Tell us why, given Life, we are meant to die, helpless in our cries?
Witness (Feel) Suffer (Think) Borrow (Teach) Reason
(Hear) Follow (Feel) Stumble (Think) Wander (Teach) Listen
(Blink) Whisper (Blink) Shoulder (Blink) Ponder (Blink) Weather
(Hear) Answer (Look) Answer (Think) Answer together
Thy Life is a riddle, to bear rapture and sorrow
To listen, to suffer, to entrust unto tomorrow
In one fleeting moment, from the Land doth life flow
Yet in one fleeting moment, for anew it doth grow
In the same fleeting moment
Thou must live
Die
And know
Thematically, this has always felt fitting as Hydaelyn’s message to the various races. This is explicitly her message to us as the Warrior of Light. As we learned that Etheirys has been sundered by Hydaelyn, literally tearing souls into pieces and distorting the bodies of the ancients, the song as felt more and more applicable.
Now, realistically, they couldn’t have possibly known that Final Fantasy XIV would last this long and there’s just no way that “Answers” was originally written with plans for Endwalker in mind, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that it fits just perfectly.
It really all comes together in the main scenario quest “Though Must Live, Die and Know,” in which we basically see Venat have this exact discussion with the worshipers of Zodiark. Here, we see Venat – who becomes Hydaelyn – approach some of her peers as they prepare to offer up their lives to summon Zodiark. She tries to persuade them to see that a world of permanent bliss with no suffering simply isn’t feasible. Sacrificing their lives to summon a god to deliver them from suffering isn’t a real option, it’s just the cowardice of people who will either live in bliss or kill themselves. Perhaps Zodiark can project a field of aether to forestall Meteion’s attack of dynamis, but what then?
As we know, her pleas are ignored, and so she sunders the world.
“This is all wrong… Why must we suffer so?”
“It needn’t be like this. No, there must be a way to restore things to the way they were. To reclaim the perfect paradise we once had.”
“No, my friends. Suffering exists, and we cannot pretend otherwise. No civilization, however great, could eliminate it. If we would live, we must accept it as our constant companion. Let us not seek to forget this tragedy. Let us carry it in our hearts, that we may grow stronger and know true happiness.”
“We can’t accept it! We won’t accept it! It will be ours again – a world free of sorrow!”
“No, it will not, for there has ever been sorrow. Mankind was but spared its biting sting for a time. So please, open your eyes. to try and reclaim those lives we lost by sacrificing yet more isn’t wisdom. It is weakness.
No paradise is without its shadows. If we cannot accept this truth and learn from our pain, then our plight shall be repeated.”
(The group turns, ignoring her, to return to their summoning.)
“O mighty Zodiark, god born of our boundless faith! We bid you hear our prayer!
Accept this offering of lives, and deliver unto us the lives we once had. Deliver unto us the days of old…
The days when the star was a font of love, and we knew naught but bliss!”
(Venat draws her sword. The group turns to address her.)
“You would destroy it? Our beautiful world?”
“Lands that stretched on forever. Skies one could drown in. The heartbeat of nature, silent yet strong. And amidst it all a people. Beacons of light and life. Laughter that warmed my heart like naught else before. They are my meaning and my purpose. My love.
In spite of…or perhaps because of this, I choose to believe. In mankind’s potential. In his ability to find a way forward.
So let there be no way back. From that temptation I sunder us.
No more shall man have wings to bear him to paradise.
Henceforth, he shall walk.”
Motifs from “Answers” play through with it kicking in full-force during the last few incredible lines.
We also see “Answers” used heavily when Hydaelyn tests us during the trial The Mothercrystal, which was just amazing. The battle, the music, and the party dialog if you choose to bring in NPCs to the fight rather than other players.
This is all just about “Answers,” but the whole soundtrack was awesome. The music during both the final fight against Meteion and against Zenos definitely stand up to some of the other boss battle music from the series. I’m really looking forward to some official arrangements and fan remixes of all the Endwalker music.
I… did find the Zodiark theme to be a little underwhelming, but there’s still a ton of good music in here. Even the music for the outdoor regions, towns, and the various character themes feel great. If you don’t own the soundtrack, just find it on YouTube and skip around a bit to check it out: it’s fantastic. (Please, Square Enix, put more of your soundtracks on an official streaming platform so I don’t need to tell people to use YouTube!)
Just to pick out a few more examples, check out the Ktisis Hyperborea theme. This really reminds me of other mid-game dungeon themes from other Final Fantasy games. Check out the Radz-at-Hand day theme – is this not just a perfect Final Fantasy town theme? I could see walking into this theme in a game like Final Fantasy IX or Final Fantasy XII.
To bring this back to my point: I’m not just saying here that Endwalker’s music is “good,” but that it’s good Final Fantasy music. They’re good on their own, but they also serve to capture moments from the game and to emphasize themes and motifs that pull it all together. A lot of these tracks have already found their way into my playlists, and I’m eagerly awaiting more remixes and arrangements. What’s more, since the game has been running for so long, the motifs have had years to grow and evolve. “Answers,” in particular, forms a motif that grew for more than a decade before finding its conclusion in Endwalker.
Conclusion
I really want to just keep rambling about Endwalker, but I should probably cut this off at some point. Again, it’s not just a great expansion, but a great Final Fantasy game. The most Final Fantasy Final Fantasy. If you’re a Final Fantasy fan, then you really can’t skip this one just because it’s an MMORPG. Yeah, I know, the combat gameplay is extremely dated (at least in solo play, endgame content is actually pretty fun,) but you’re just going to need to suck it up because the story, characters, and music here are top-tier Final Fantasy.
Moreover, the long run of Final Fantasy XIV has allowed for themes, characters, and music to expand and grow more than in the rest of the series. We first heard “Answers” in 2010. We’ve been watching Alphinaud and Alisaie grow up for so long that they’ve really just aged into mature adults. Urianger has been mourning Moenbryda, again, for more than a decade. This isn’t just a Final Fantasy game that can stand alongside the rest: it actually surpasses them.