During the opening hours of Final Fantasy XIII, I put the controller down and vowed never to pick and play another Final Fantasy again. I’d loved every installment since VII, and at 26, I suddenly felt too old, too tired, to embark on what would surely be another 100-hour-plus adventure in another world with a convoluted, angst-ridden story and, in this instance, an unexpected linearity that made my first few hours feel like playing something akin to being shoved down a really boring slide. I'd moved on.
But Final Fantasy XV's is something else. Its first few hours, at least, are fun. They suggest an explosion of ideas, a mishmash of cultures peppered with extraordinary detail and millennial chutzpah from its quartet of characters.
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But Final Fantasy XV's is something else. Its first few hours, at least, are fun. They suggest an explosion of ideas, a mishmash of cultures peppered with extraordinary detail and millennial chutzpah from its quartet of characters.
Continue reading…
Continue reading...