Final Fantasy 16 might forge a bold new path for the future, but Creative Business Unit 3 scattered dozens of references to the series’ past. While some of these are minor nods, such as elementals appearing when the world’s balance is out of order like in Final Fantasy 14, a handful of these Easter eggs have a lot more inside of them than simple nostalgia. These callbacks to past Final Fantasy games hide some of the 16’s best storytelling.
Clive Rosfield and Jill Warrick met as children after Clive’s father brought Jill into his household as a political hostage/ward. Clive and Jill stand together and look at the moon on the night before Rosaria’s ducal family leaves for Phoenix Gate in an evident callback to Cloud and Tifa at the water tower in Final Fantasy 7 but with a few key differences. Cloud looked forward to a better future where he wouldn’t be lonely and unloved, whereas Jill and Clive know only war and heartache will come with the rising sun.
Tifa and Cloud barely knew each other, despite what their skewed memories told them, and this moment becomes a source of mental anguish later in their lives as a result. But trauma and loss brought Jill and Clive together, even at a young age. That bond forged in sadness gives both of them a slim hope that somehow, they’ll be able to create a better future if they remain together – and it keeps them alive during the darkest moments of their lives after they reunite later in the game.
“What RPG doesn’t have you invading an evil empire?” you might ask yourself, but the Sanbreque expedition in Final Fantasy 16 shares some important similarities with Final Fantasy 2. Cid’s resistance group moves in secret and recognizes members across the continent thanks to special symbols, similar to the Fynn rsistance in Final Fantasy 2 using secret words to declare allegiance. An ally’s family member serves the empire in both games, and they even have an evil deity pulling the strings behind the scenes.
The difference is that when Firion and Maria invade Palamecia in Final Fantasy 2, there’s hope for Maria’s brother, the traitor Leon. He regrets his actions, tries to make amends, albeit in a small way, and has an open invitation to come back home if he wants to. Clive’s mother Annabella could change or at least express regret for her past actions, but she clings to her pride, anger, and resentment and forces a conflict instead.
Final Fantasy 16 isn’t just dark for the sake of being edgy. There’s a striking pattern of harmful choices, virulent selfishness, and cruel behavior that made Valisthea what it is, and the contrast with Final Fantasy 2’s optimism underscores one of Final Fantasy 16’s main themes. You can hope for a better future, but you’ll probably have to fight for it.
Clive plunges into a crisis when he discovers who the Eikon Ifrit really is in a dark sequence with roots in Final Fantasy 9. Zidane, the protagonist of FF 9, discovers a disturbing truth about his identity near the end of the game, and while he doesn’t get chained to a wall naked as Clive does, he falls into a similar depressive cycle and yearns only for oblivion.
Zidane gets an inspiring resolution where his friends step up one by one and help him battle through the gloom. Things unfold a bit differently for Clive. Thanks in part to his own actions, he doesn’t have a party of chums to rally around him. Clive only has one friend, Jill, though the bond they share through loss and trauma means she’s arguably more important than an entire party of allies.
Zidane accepts the truth and move on with his life, but things aren’t quite as easy for Clive. He has to build the rest of his life around that truth and carry it with him forever. For Clive, the bonds of friendship aren’t just there to help when things get tough. They’re essential for learning how to live again.
The climactic scene where Clive battles a shadow of himself comes straight from Final Fantasy 4, where Cecil battles his dark side and finds redemption as a Paladin.
Cecil’s battle forces him to reckon with the foul deeds of his past, everything from wars to murdering innocent civilians. However, the root of those deeds was his own weak will, where the fear of rejection spurred him to accept the king’s orders, no matter how heinous. If Cecil is fighting his worst emotions and darkest yearnings, then it’s safe to assume Clive is as well – and nothing could be darker than the rage that drove him to murder his brother.
The prologue makes it hard to spot any character flaws in Clive. Underneath that calm, dutiful exterior must have existed a roiling sea of envy, pain, and resentment over his mother’s rejection and his brother’s exalted position clashing with his his better feelings. Looking at it that way, it’s no wonder young Clive stands alongside older Clive when the time comes to accept the truth and make amends.
Nearly every Final Fantasy has a Cid, but Final Fantasy 16’s Cidolfus Telamon shares quite a bit in common with his Final Fantasy Tactics counterpart, Cidolfus Orlandeau. Orlandeau is also a noble who turned his back on corrupt leaders after recognizing the evil that lurked behind their actions. This Cid was imprisoned and almost murdered for trying to do the right thing, though he eventually joins Tactics’ hero, Ramza, and turns his back on his noble brethren.
Final Fantasy 16’s Cid is pretty glib about his past for the most part and the challenges he faced not just in being a Dominant, but in turning his back on his people as well. He’s all sarcastic comments and glib remarks once Clive shows up, but looking at hom through the lens of Tactics’ Orlandeau sheds some light on the hardships he must have faced and what he risked when he betrayed his peers to fight for a better world.
The storytelling around Benedikta is some of the messiest in the game, filled with stereotypes about powerful women that leave her character underdeveloped. However, a brief moment tucked away in a small cutscene that plays before you invade Caer Norvent does more for her character development than the game’s entire first act. After musing about her relationships with Cid and Barnabas, Benedikta stands at the top of the fortress and gazes quietly at the moon in a manner almost identical to Maria in Final Fantasy VI’s iconic opera sequence.
Maria is a passive actor who looks for salvation in her love, the guiding stars in her dark night. Benedikta purposefully throws love aside and tries forging her destiny through cunning and brute force – and in a world where only the powerful survive, and women have little power, who can blame her? The grim irony is that she ends up serving a man anyway and loses the chance not just to find meaningful companionship, but to live a free existence where she could do as she pleases. Benedikta’s story is a proper tragedy worthy of its own opera,, though Final Fantasy 16 does its best to sweep it under a rug.
The Mothercrystals and their effect on Valisthea ibear some remarkable resemblances to Mako energy and Shinra’s Mako reactors in Final Fantasy 7. Shinra extracts and hordes Mako, the planet’s lifeforce, in a bid to monopolize power and influence, killing the very planet they want to establish unchallenged rule over. Mothercrystals also absorb aether – the planet’s lifeforce in Final Fantasy 16 – and give the people who control them the illusion of power.
The rulers of Valisthea fight for control of the Mothercrystals for the same reason, to bolster their own power by exploiting natural resources, creating a cycle of war and conflict that moves the continent close to extinction. The irony is that, while Shinra’s executives are working only for themselves, the leaders of Valisthea are actually carrying out the will of a twisted god who’s happy to destroy them all. A safer, healthier alternative is literally right in front of them, as Cid’s followers discovered, but the wanton lust for power pushes them further toward self-destruction. Final Fantasy 16 is as much about the folly of human pride as it is anything else.
Final Fantasy 16 may take steps in a bold new direction, with its grim setting and unforgiving story. However, it’s also still in deep conversation with the rest of the series. It builds on and even subverts familiar motifs to enrich Valisthea, and while Clive’s journey may be a glimpse of Final Fantasy’s future, it’s just as much a quiet celebration of everything that came before.
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Clive and Jill the night before Phoenix Gate
Clive Rosfield and Jill Warrick met as children after Clive’s father brought Jill into his household as a political hostage/ward. Clive and Jill stand together and look at the moon on the night before Rosaria’s ducal family leaves for Phoenix Gate in an evident callback to Cloud and Tifa at the water tower in Final Fantasy 7 but with a few key differences. Cloud looked forward to a better future where he wouldn’t be lonely and unloved, whereas Jill and Clive know only war and heartache will come with the rising sun.
Tifa and Cloud barely knew each other, despite what their skewed memories told them, and this moment becomes a source of mental anguish later in their lives as a result. But trauma and loss brought Jill and Clive together, even at a young age. That bond forged in sadness gives both of them a slim hope that somehow, they’ll be able to create a better future if they remain together – and it keeps them alive during the darkest moments of their lives after they reunite later in the game.
Infiltrating the Holy Empire of Sanbreque
“What RPG doesn’t have you invading an evil empire?” you might ask yourself, but the Sanbreque expedition in Final Fantasy 16 shares some important similarities with Final Fantasy 2. Cid’s resistance group moves in secret and recognizes members across the continent thanks to special symbols, similar to the Fynn rsistance in Final Fantasy 2 using secret words to declare allegiance. An ally’s family member serves the empire in both games, and they even have an evil deity pulling the strings behind the scenes.
The difference is that when Firion and Maria invade Palamecia in Final Fantasy 2, there’s hope for Maria’s brother, the traitor Leon. He regrets his actions, tries to make amends, albeit in a small way, and has an open invitation to come back home if he wants to. Clive’s mother Annabella could change or at least express regret for her past actions, but she clings to her pride, anger, and resentment and forces a conflict instead.
Final Fantasy 16 isn’t just dark for the sake of being edgy. There’s a striking pattern of harmful choices, virulent selfishness, and cruel behavior that made Valisthea what it is, and the contrast with Final Fantasy 2’s optimism underscores one of Final Fantasy 16’s main themes. You can hope for a better future, but you’ll probably have to fight for it.
Clive learning Ifrit’s identity
Clive plunges into a crisis when he discovers who the Eikon Ifrit really is in a dark sequence with roots in Final Fantasy 9. Zidane, the protagonist of FF 9, discovers a disturbing truth about his identity near the end of the game, and while he doesn’t get chained to a wall naked as Clive does, he falls into a similar depressive cycle and yearns only for oblivion.
Zidane gets an inspiring resolution where his friends step up one by one and help him battle through the gloom. Things unfold a bit differently for Clive. Thanks in part to his own actions, he doesn’t have a party of chums to rally around him. Clive only has one friend, Jill, though the bond they share through loss and trauma means she’s arguably more important than an entire party of allies.
Zidane accepts the truth and move on with his life, but things aren’t quite as easy for Clive. He has to build the rest of his life around that truth and carry it with him forever. For Clive, the bonds of friendship aren’t just there to help when things get tough. They’re essential for learning how to live again.
Clive confronting his inner darkness
The climactic scene where Clive battles a shadow of himself comes straight from Final Fantasy 4, where Cecil battles his dark side and finds redemption as a Paladin.
Cecil’s battle forces him to reckon with the foul deeds of his past, everything from wars to murdering innocent civilians. However, the root of those deeds was his own weak will, where the fear of rejection spurred him to accept the king’s orders, no matter how heinous. If Cecil is fighting his worst emotions and darkest yearnings, then it’s safe to assume Clive is as well – and nothing could be darker than the rage that drove him to murder his brother.
The prologue makes it hard to spot any character flaws in Clive. Underneath that calm, dutiful exterior must have existed a roiling sea of envy, pain, and resentment over his mother’s rejection and his brother’s exalted position clashing with his his better feelings. Looking at it that way, it’s no wonder young Clive stands alongside older Clive when the time comes to accept the truth and make amends.
Cid being Cid
Nearly every Final Fantasy has a Cid, but Final Fantasy 16’s Cidolfus Telamon shares quite a bit in common with his Final Fantasy Tactics counterpart, Cidolfus Orlandeau. Orlandeau is also a noble who turned his back on corrupt leaders after recognizing the evil that lurked behind their actions. This Cid was imprisoned and almost murdered for trying to do the right thing, though he eventually joins Tactics’ hero, Ramza, and turns his back on his noble brethren.
Final Fantasy 16’s Cid is pretty glib about his past for the most part and the challenges he faced not just in being a Dominant, but in turning his back on his people as well. He’s all sarcastic comments and glib remarks once Clive shows up, but looking at hom through the lens of Tactics’ Orlandeau sheds some light on the hardships he must have faced and what he risked when he betrayed his peers to fight for a better world.
Benedikta on the battlements
The storytelling around Benedikta is some of the messiest in the game, filled with stereotypes about powerful women that leave her character underdeveloped. However, a brief moment tucked away in a small cutscene that plays before you invade Caer Norvent does more for her character development than the game’s entire first act. After musing about her relationships with Cid and Barnabas, Benedikta stands at the top of the fortress and gazes quietly at the moon in a manner almost identical to Maria in Final Fantasy VI’s iconic opera sequence.
Maria is a passive actor who looks for salvation in her love, the guiding stars in her dark night. Benedikta purposefully throws love aside and tries forging her destiny through cunning and brute force – and in a world where only the powerful survive, and women have little power, who can blame her? The grim irony is that she ends up serving a man anyway and loses the chance not just to find meaningful companionship, but to live a free existence where she could do as she pleases. Benedikta’s story is a proper tragedy worthy of its own opera,, though Final Fantasy 16 does its best to sweep it under a rug.
The Mothercrystals
The Mothercrystals and their effect on Valisthea ibear some remarkable resemblances to Mako energy and Shinra’s Mako reactors in Final Fantasy 7. Shinra extracts and hordes Mako, the planet’s lifeforce, in a bid to monopolize power and influence, killing the very planet they want to establish unchallenged rule over. Mothercrystals also absorb aether – the planet’s lifeforce in Final Fantasy 16 – and give the people who control them the illusion of power.
The rulers of Valisthea fight for control of the Mothercrystals for the same reason, to bolster their own power by exploiting natural resources, creating a cycle of war and conflict that moves the continent close to extinction. The irony is that, while Shinra’s executives are working only for themselves, the leaders of Valisthea are actually carrying out the will of a twisted god who’s happy to destroy them all. A safer, healthier alternative is literally right in front of them, as Cid’s followers discovered, but the wanton lust for power pushes them further toward self-destruction. Final Fantasy 16 is as much about the folly of human pride as it is anything else.
Final Fantasy 16 may take steps in a bold new direction, with its grim setting and unforgiving story. However, it’s also still in deep conversation with the rest of the series. It builds on and even subverts familiar motifs to enrich Valisthea, and while Clive’s journey may be a glimpse of Final Fantasy’s future, it’s just as much a quiet celebration of everything that came before.
Continue reading...