Tracing Final Fantasy Type-0 HD’s wandering lineage is a potential decent into madness. Conceived in 2006 as Final Fantasy Agito XIII and part of Square Enix’s Fabula Nova Crystallis project, it was to share an elusive mythos with Final Fantasy XIII and Final Fantasy Versus XIII. Time saw Agito XIII’s ambition expand, its title change to Type-0, and its development platform shift from mobile phones to PlayStation Portable. While Type-0 eventually found the Japanese market in 2011, North America and Europe were left twisting in the wind. Basic economics couldn’t justify Type-0 on PSP (or PlayStation Vita). Four years later, in a burgeoning market loaded with newer software-hungry consoles, Type-0 looks a lot more enticing.
Well, some parts of Type-0 look more enticing. Basic level geometry and the smaller amounts of physical space to explore disclose its origins as a PSP title, albeit one that’s received a modest visual smoothing and visual upgrades along the lines of Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker’s trip to high definition. There’s also something else to Type-0, as certain character models and touches of the environment feel completely remastered. Type-0 was (probably) the best looking game on its original platform, but it’s not even a contender on the current generation of hardware. It’s a strange disposition, and one that automatically qualifies Type-0’s technical shortcomings as unavoidable walls erected alongside its modest foundation. At worst Type-0 gives off the same vibe as the reworked original Star Wars trilogy, where modern technology and contemporary practicality converge in a few uncomfortable sequences.
This extends to Type-0’s labored presentation, which has a slapdash texture that probably worked on a smaller screen, but feels wholly incongruous in its HD transition. Cut-scenes and in-engine dialogue start and stop at a moment’s notice, and often seem to cut off before it’s supposed to conclude. Furthermore, the voice localization can’t keep pace with the mouths and movements of the characters on screen, often leading to characters pontificating actions that don’t seem to make conversational sense. The camera, while not necessarily problematic, comes with an obscene blur effect and feels way too abrasive in the light shined by its peers. This is all forgivable if you’re aware you’re playing an upgraded portable game, but may come as a shock to anyone who shows up for Final Fantasy’s typical top-notch presentation.
While some of Type-0’s visual shortcomings can be explained and rationalized, the story it tries to tell doesn’t stand up to similar scrutiny. The premise – Class Zero, composed of Akademeia’s best and brightest students, gets caught up in the violent geopolitical drama slowly engulfing the world of Orience – is fine and functional, but the interpersonal relationships that fuel it are hampered by unnatural dialogue and inane interpersonal complexity. Keeping track of Class Zero’s fourteen members is easy enough, but try explaining why there’s not only a functional Queen in Type-0’s fiction, but also a member of Class Zero named “Queen” – along with other members that are literally named numbers. Alienating to some and adored by others, this is actually one of the most Final Fantasy things Type-0 accomplishes.
Type-0’s awkward localization also impacts its narrative. Each member of Class Zero is assigned a specific personality trait to help make them more memorable. Nine is perpetually aggressive and ends almost every sentence with a cringe-inducing, “yo.” Machina is your archetypal tragic hero, brooding through a series of revelations. Cater and Cinque take turns playing the role of the highly animated lady. Type-0 reminds me of Chrono Cross’ localization, where, in an effort to differentiate the characters, accents and dialects were applied to speech patterns. Type-0 applies a similar philosophy, but in transition to spoken dialogue it feels like none of the actors were in the same room, and whoever was in charge of directing the talent didn’t bother with additional takes. I don’t know if Type-0’s source material was too hokey to begin with or if there just wasn’t enough time to make it all sound natural, but the dialogue that builds its narrative is beset by its off-kilter delivery (though the original Japanese language voice track is available).
Through its limitations, Type-0’s narrative functions as a new and engrossing approach to traditional Final Fantasy storytelling. It’s not directly about its ensemble cast, but rather their roles as catalysts and players in the wars of their superiors. HBO’s Game of Thrones stands as a similar, though for more accomplished, companion piece, where the machinations of few create intense problems for everyone else. It’s worth noting that Type-0’s billing as a mature story is limited to occasional gore and some Drakengard levels of violent weirdness; those that are expecting a mature narrative or divergent form of storytelling should probably look elsewhere. Type-0’s plot is closer to XII than any of its brethren, but it’s still a thoroughly Final Fantasy tale.
While its presentation and surrounding story may be a struggle, Type-0 expresses a different sort of confidence when it comes to actually playing it. The way it introduces and unleashes its combat and progression systems stands in contrast to and reactionary of Final Fantasy XIII. Whereas XIII was criticized for carefully unfolding its mechanics for 75% of its runtime, Type-0 flattens its systems almost instantly. Taking lessons from Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII and The 3rd Birthday (both not so coincidentally helmed by Type-0 director Hajime Tabata), Type-0 breaks down into real-time combat with a heavy emphasis on lock-on attack and defense mechanisms.
Type-0’s mechanics are not as smooth or responsive as a pure action game, but with its variable degrees of approach and potential for customization, it doesn’t need to be. The player only controls one character at a time, but can be supported by two AI companions (which you can shift control to freely) and draws from a pool of all fourteen Class Zero members. If one member of your active party goes down, you’re free to draw upon any one of the reserves. Type-0’s greatest departure from traditional Final Fantasy norms? There’s zero revival of any downed party members; the game defaults back to the last save point if all of Class Zero is taken out in combat. This ensures that, at some point, you’ll probably get some seat time with each member of Class Zero. The game’s mission based format and generous abort options negate some of the implied risk, but there’s still a considerable amount of extraneous bonuses, such as resources harvested from downed enemies, at stake.
Members of Class Zero collapse into roles defined by their weapons and abilities. Cater, King, Ace, and Trey, for example, all wield ranged weapons and are absolutely essential in any configuration. Jack, with his katana, and Cinque, with her mace, act as heavy damage dealers and are great in a pinch. Most of the time I rolled with Deuce because her area-of-effect damaging flute is hilarious, but I made room for Queen, with her lightning-fast barrage of short sword swipes, and Seven, with her melee/ranged chain-whip, as well. There’s a bit of overlap between some Class Zero’s members, but I wouldn’t consider any role particularly disposable. There were times when I made it through a difficult (albeit bonus) mission with just one member left standing.
Combat isn’t purely limited to a quick succession of commands and attacks. Each enemy will exhibit a Break Site Strike and a Kill Site Strike, which translate to a very brief yellow or red halo, respectively, engulfing the enemy. Yellow deals massive damage while red is good for an instant kill, and both can be learned, timed, and exploited by properly evaluating enemy patterns. On its surface this is a fairly simple system, but taking in Class Zero’s weapon variety, and all of the different timing it entails, and it makes for a good bit of variable strategy. Again, you’re not going to mistake Type-0 for Bayonetta, but it’s fine in its own system.
Leveling up and character progression enjoys an ornate simplicity. Experience earned in battle contributes to an overall character level, but also yields AP. With AP comes the option to boost stats and unlock new commands. Each member of Class Zero is outfitted with a standard physical attack, two customizable commands, and one defensive option. A healthy party makes room for any of Type-0’s assortment of traditional magic spells, along with options like cure, wall, protect, and esuna in the defense/evasion slot. Eidolons, unlike other powerful ultra-attacks, carry an interesting risk; summoning one forfeits the life of that particular party member, adding a degree of danger if you’re not confident in the rest of your squad. Between a myriad of roles and dozens of commands between them, Type-0 leaves plenty of room for personal customization inside its challenging tapestry.
Type-0 also exhibits a relatively novel approach to traditional Final Fantasy combat encounters. Eight chapters reveal a dozen or so designed missions, but each one is infinitely repeatable from the title menu. Experience earned is identical, and seemingly essential for rounding out all of Class Zero. You also have the option to summon in other exclusively AI controlled members from other classes in Akademeia. This yields a completely different currency good for unique items at an exclusive vendor, though (I think) it also takes away from the experience that would have been earned by Class Zero members. I only employed this option a few times to complete a couple of elective quests, as I wasn’t comfortable denying experience to any of my assembled party members.
Exploration and non-combat activity are also actively different in Type-0. A time-based system governs all of your extraneous activity, though not one as desperate as Lightning Returns or as potentially cataclysmic as Persona 3 and Persona 4. Class Zero is granted a set number of hours between missions. Taking lessons in class (read: raising basic stats) takes two hours. Talking to anyone in Akademeia with an exclamation point over their head takes an hour. Leaving Akademeia, venturing onto the world map, and completing requests from an NPC takes six hours. You’re free to blaze past everything and start the next mission immediately, but Type-0 would much prefer the player to stick around and explore a bit.
Unfortunately most of the sidequests just aren’t that interesting. Requests boil down to basic fetch quests. Talking to (!) NPC’s occasionally reveals some backstory about other classmates at Akademeia or members of Class Zero, but more frequently turn out to be three lines of bland text. It feels like the development team saw the school days appeal of modern Persona, recognized its own lush history in Final Fantasy VIII, and made the best of it with Type-0 meager time system. It’s fine, really, and works as intended in breaking up the pace a bit, but it’s easy to see how it could have been so much more if the game had been allowed a wider scope.
A different assortment of optional content takes on a bit more meaning. There’s a fairly deep chocobo raising minigame, complete with breeding weird oddities and scouring the world map for rare specimens. There’s an offline leveling system to boost characters while you’re aware (or massively boost everyone in short order if you’re willing to fiddle with the system clock). Combat arenas, high level optional quests for massive rewards, hidden eidolons, obscene equipment, and more exist for righteous completionists.
Type-0’s post-game content is a bit of a double-edged sword. Throughout the campaign you’ll find yourself greeted by optional quests with level recommendations that far exceed your level and abilities. These are meant to be performed on New Game Plus runs, where you start the game over with all of your previously acquired stats intact. Type-0 actually pushes this philosophy one step further, revealing additional and significant story details on successive runs. If I were younger and had the time, earning these revelations and secret underpinnings would have been a huge draw. Now that I’m older I sort of wish Type-0 would have just told me everything it wanted to say on the first time around. A second run isn’t for me, but I respect the hell out of it and the depth of the systems to support it. If nothing else, Type-0 definitely makes a reinvestment worth your while.
Did I mention there’s also a real-time strategy game baked into Type-0? Either by pushing the Militesi Empire back or reclaiming land and cities thought to be their own, Rubrum and its accompanying Class Zero are called into action for a large scale war. Pushing troops against other troops, taking down cities, and calling upon specialized forces for specific tasks are fairly simple in the RTS world, but function well enough in Type-0. The first battle appears to be mandatory, but all that remain are (ahem) optional, and can be skipped at the cost of the loot you’d get for winning.
For all of its conscious departures, Type-0’s burning passion for referencing its past can’t be denied. The objective male protagonist is named Machina, a clear reference to the forbidden machines of Final Fantasy X. There’s a throwaway sequence where you blast through snow in Magitek, just like the opening of Final Fantasy VI. Final Fantasy’s defining musical theme is permanent background music encompassing all of Akademeia. Eidolons function as they do in Final Fantasy XII. Connections to Final Fantasy XIII are less than esoteric, but they deserved to be enjoyed by anyone who committed to play through it. Unlike Dissidia, which delivered references every ten seconds and ran away cackling, Type-0 seems prepared to actually make something out of its heritage.
Nowhere is this felt more than Type-0’s inclusion of a traditional world map. It’s archaic and outdated, but there’s just something about a grand over world punctuated by unscaled cities and seasonal weather interludes. It’s reaching directly into my brain and summoning memories of being 14, 16, and 17 and playing through every PlayStation-era Final Fantasy’s in all of their blocky, pixelated glory. Type-0’s Orience doesn’t offer the inane intricacy of its comparatively ancient siblings, but there are enough secrets, oddities, and navigational challenges to make it feel safe and familiar. I didn’t even mind the random battles, which, of course, are exclusive to world map exploration. Scouring the world map, hands down, was my favorite surprise in Type-0.
All of this leaves Type-0 something of a handsome mess. A complicated, beautiful, discordant, and disruptive mess. You’ll scoff at the design trappings of a four-year-old game from a ten-year-old platform , marvel at the personalization behind its mechanics, revel in consuming its substantial amount of content, openly dismiss and simultaneously embrace its bonkers narrative, and maybe come to terms with the weird and winding road Type-0 drove into existence. Tallying its assets against its imperfections may reveal an uneven score, but Type-0 nevertheless worked for me. Maybe it could for you, too.
