Sometimes a game changes everything. Final Fantasy didn't just start a series—it saved a company and helped define an entire genre. I just played through the original NES version for the first time, and I'm in awe of how much it accomplished with so little.
Let me set the stage: 1987. Square is a small Japanese developer on the brink of financial ruin. Hironobu Sakaguchi, a young designer, bets everything on this "final" project—hence the name. If it fails, he'll quit gaming and return to college. It doesn't fail. It becomes a legend.
What strikes you first is how simple yet deep the systems are. You choose four characters from six basic classes: Fighter, Thief, Black Belt, Red Mage, White Mage, Black Mage. Each has strengths and limitations. Fighters wield heavy weapons but can't cast spells. Mages can unleash fire and healing but can't take a hit. The Red Mage sits somewhere in between—jack of all trades, master of none. It's a party-based RPG where balance matters.
Combat is turn-based and menu-driven. You select Attack, Magic, Item, or Run. Enemies appear randomly as you walk through dungeons and on the world map. The interface puts your party on the right side of the screen, enemies on the left—a design choice that became standard for the series. Battles are methodical, strategic. You think about who attacks, who heals, who buffs. You manage limited resources: potions, spells per day, HP and MP.
The game's structure is elegantly classic: explore towns to buy gear and learn clues, delve dungeons for treasure and boss fights, traverse the overworld by foot, ship, and eventually airship. There are no elaborate cutscenes, no voice acting, just text boxes and pixel art. Yet the world feels vast. Three continents, each with distinct towns, caves, mountains, and forests. The storytelling is minimalist but evocative—you fill in gaps with your imagination.
And then there's the job system. After progressing through the first third of the game, you can upgrade each character to an advanced class: Fighter becomes Knight, Thief becomes Ninja, Black Belt becomes Master, Red Mage becomes Red Mage (upgraded), White Mage becomes Priest, Black Mage becomes Wizard. These upgrades unlock new abilities and stronger stats. It's satisfying to see your early-career characters evolve into their ultimate forms.
The music by Nobuo Uematsu is iconic even in its NES limitations. The main theme, the battle music, the chilling soundtrack of the Marsh Cave—these melodies are etched into gaming history. They're simple, repetitive, but somehow deeply atmospheric.
Final Fantasy's legacy is immense. It birthed one of the most successful RPG franchises ever. It proved that video games could tell epic stories with emotional weight. It introduced concepts that would become series hallmarks: crystals, job systems, airships, summoned monsters, and that sense of adventure that makes you want to explore every corner of the map.
Playing it today, you notice the roughness: lots of grinding, cryptic progression (how are you supposed to know to get the Nitro Powder?), and a difficulty that can be punishing. But there's a raw, unpolished magic here. This was a team with limited resources but boundless ambition. They were figuring it out as they went along. And they changed the world.
If you've ever enjoyed an RPG with a job system, a party-based battle, or a sprawling fantasy world, you owe it to yourself to see where it all began. Just be ready to draw your own maps—because back then, the game didn't hold your hand. And that was part of the fun.
Final Fantasy remains a testament to the power of vision. One team's "final" gamble became an eternal legacy. That's poetic justice at its finest.
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