XIII Never Was a Lucky Number

'The man' is now a woman.
 

Most of you remember him from his memorable work on Final Fantasy VII, VIII and X. Vibrant characters like Cloud and Sephiroth, Squall and Rinoa, and Lulu and Auron still tickle our nostalgia glands to this day. I speak of course of Tetsuya Nomura, whose cutting-edge, Ginza-inspired designs buoyed us through our awkward pubescent years as RPG fans and Otakus. 

But, unless my eyes deceive me, Final Fantasy XIII's art design seems to be taking a tragic misstep back—back into the blinding neon, sideways ponytails, and giant robots of the 1980's. Did the world suffer those long, cruel years of stylistic and aesthetic failure in vain? What became of that garish, phantasmagoric, drug-induced art direction of my tender youth?

 

There are far too many parallels that can be drawn between Final Fantasy XIII and The World Ends With You, and in the few places that the title appears to be breaking new ground, it's delving dangerously close to .Hack and Transformers territory. I was willing to tolerate Shiva as as some kind of magically-enchanted fay motorcycle, but the new hot-rod has violated some serious boundaries—the same line that was crossed when Odin turned into Sleipnir for Lightning to ride because apparently, drag-racing, motorcycling and equestrian are like modes of transport. 

The real nail in the coffin is the introduction of what appears to be the final major protagonist, Serah. This makes not one, not two, but three female protagonists with teased pink hair, and she didn't stop there; she went for the entire LimitedToo ensemble. I'm still kind of shocked that they held off on covering her in heaps of cheap plastic from Delia's. For an apocalyptic war-zone, there sure is a lot of estrogen on Cocoon.

'WAIT! I dropped my purse.'
 

And I suppose that's the point. This game is marketed to a Japanese audience—a gaming demographic that primarily consists of teenage girls. Who else could appreciate the saving grace that is the topless Snow bit? It's as if the cutscene team has been waiting for just the right moment—for graphics to get this good—to unleash upon the world, not partial female nudity, but rather a man's perfectly-formed, muscular torso.  

The inner-fanboy is a diehard. It's difficult to renounce such a powerfully memorable and nostalgic series such as this. But all evidence indicates that this game is too purpose-driven—too demographically well-calculated—to hold any promise other than three zombified, unshaven, and underwear-clad days of gameplay.  

The time has come to let go.