The Beauty of JRPG Title Cards
I recently watched Evil Dead Rise (2023), and I couldn't help but be fascinated with how effective the cold open is in setting the tone for the rest of the film. Evil Dead Rise's opening sequence lasts around 6 minutes and 30 seconds, and it efficiently uses that time to introduce the film's unique and atypical cinematography that the horror genre is not quite familiar with. Director Lee Cronin describes his approach to the cold open on comicbook.com, stating, “I like a cold open that illustrates or gives you a taste of what is to come,” and Evil Dead Rise does exactly that.
Its cold open reaches a crescendo when the title of the film seemingly rises from hell in the background. The literal text asserts itself on the scene, reflecting off of the water in the lake and turning the skies blood red. Additionally, it is accompanied by an unsettling and glaring violin that holds the note for the duration of the title coming into the frame. The cinematography, score, and functionality reach a perfectly disturbing harmony in a single moment that reigns in the previous six and a half minutes the viewer just experienced. Evil Dead Rise earns your attention for the rest of the film with its spectacular cold opening.
I could rave on and on about why the title card in Evil Dead Rise is brilliant, but I would like to pivot from the film industry to the video game industry, specifically Japanese role-playing games. My objective is to apply a similar standard to a video game's introductory sequence in order to reveal how they can successfully create meaning in a different creative space.
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
The key difference between a film and a video game is how the consumer participates. In a film, the participant actively listens and watches the narrative play out. They have no influence on the narrative, and it's the same every time they watch it. In a video game, the participant (player) actively engages with and interacts with the world the developers programmed. The sequence of interactions between the player and the game constructs a unique sequence of events that cannot be replicated in a new game save. This is an important distinction to make because the player can be intimately involved with the cold open. Most games opt to completely eliminate player control during the opening sequence with pre-rendered cutscenes or narrated exposition. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017) is not like most games.
The key principle of a successful cold open is giving the participant “a taste of what is to come,” and Breath of the Wild follows it to an absolute tee. The player assumes control of the protagonist, Link, within two minutes of starting a new save file. The first “obstacle” that the game presents the player with is not what you'd expect. It's Link's clothes. He starts the game half naked, and it's addressed immediately after the player assumes control of Link, with two hard-to-miss chests directly in front of the spawn point. It begs the question: if the problem presented can be solved within seconds, why not just start the game with Link in his iconic green tunic?
The answer is because manually equipping Link's clothing is the first glimpse of the colossal responsibility of freedom that Breath of the Wild is placing on the player. Shortly after obtaining the worn-out clothes and sheikah slate, the player exits the cave and is presented with a stunning mountaintop view of Hyrule. While this is happening, the title of the game fades into the screen, but it’s tucked away at the bottom right corner of the screen. It's a stark contrast from Evil Dead Rise, which positions the text in the center and takes up roughly 50% of the screen. Breath of the Wild's title card is completely overshadowed by the view of the open world, suggesting that its narrative is of second-most importance. After the title fades away, the player has the freedom to engage with the vast world of Hyrule however they please.
Nintendo took the risk of redefining the formula that has worked for them countless times since The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (1998). The cold open for Breath of the Wild had to successfully set the stage for the new direction the franchise is headed for, and as a result of the pressure of introducing a genre-defining game, one of the most memorable and iconic moments in modern video game was created.
Final Fantasy X
Final Fantasy X (2001) was the first Final Fantasy game to be released on Sony's PlayStation 2. In the early 2000's, the gaming industry was rapidly growing and improving every year, and as the market grew, games became noticeably more cinematic and their narratives became more cohesive. Final Fantasy X had the pleasure of bearing the weight of being the first Final Fantasy game on Sony's second-generation console and the first game in the franchise to utilize voice acting.
Unlike Breath of the Wild, Final Fantasy X quickly establishes that the narrative is the most important feature of the game, a staple for the Final Fantasy franchise. The cold open begins with a piece by the prolific and highly praised Japanese composer Nobuo Uematsu, titled “Zanarkand.” It's a somber and melancholic piano track that is written in the key of E minor, a musical scale closely associated with grief and mourning. The track plays out while the camera pans up and reveals a civilization in ruins. The sun is setting behind the ruined city, synchronizing with the audio and setting a gloomy tone. The rest of the cutscene pans around the main cast of characters, with an emphasis on Tidus and Yuna. It's worth noting that this opening sequence is rendered with the in-game engine and character models. It was a bold choice considering that Square Enix has a fantastic reputation for producing cutting-edge pre-rendered visuals and has relied on pre-rendered opening cinematics for their previous titles.
Finally, the first voiced line of dialogue in the entire franchise is spoken by Tidus' voice actor James Arnold Taylor: “Listen to my story. This may be our last chance.” Taylor delivers the line with a passive tone consistent with the visual and musical motifs. The visuals slowly fade to black, and from the darkness, the title of the game fades into the center of the screen. It's quite poetic that the first sentence voiced in a Final Fantasy game is the protagonist asking the player to listen to their “final fantasy.”
Final Fantasy XVI
Square Enix's latest Final Fantasy installment, Final Fantasy XVI (2023), sold 3 million copies at launch, according to the official Twitter account. Just ten days before the game's release, producer Naoki Yoshida announced that the demo for Final Fantasy XVI has launched worldwide. At its core, the purpose of a demo is to give someone on the fence a “taste of what's to come” in an attempt to convince them to buy the full product. Final Fantasy XVI achieves this by inviting the player to experience a rich prologue that roughly takes two hours to complete.
The Final Fantasy XVI demo quickly became one of the most applauded video game demos in recent history, and it was a strange phenomenon to witness across several entertainment news outlets and social media.
Ethan Gach, Kotaku: “I Wasn't Prepared For Final Fantasy XVI's Demo To Be So Amazing And Brutal”
Marty Silva, The Escapist: Final Fantasy XVI's Demo Completely Sold Me on the Game
It generated massive hype just moments before the game's release, and I'm willing to bet that the effect it had on the game's launch sales was not insignificant. I certainly won't be surprised when AAA studios attempt to replicate this success in the future, but before they can attempt to reproduce it, they need to understand why it worked for Final Fantasy XVI.
The prologue is grandiose and epic, but also cruel and poignant. With the creation of a new save, Final Fantasy XVI thrusts the player into its first glorious Eikon battle between the Phoenix and Ifrit. The player gets to control Phoenix for a brief moment before transitioning to a flash forward. It may sound absurd, but that is the cold open for the cold open, because shortly after bringing the player to the present, it sends them back farther in the past to experience the moments leading up to the confrontation between Phoenix and Ifrit.
Final Fantasy XVI does its due diligence and illustrates the game's combat mechanics through text-based pop-up tutorials that demonstrate the possible skill ceiling a player can achieve with sufficient mastery. The player controls Clive Rosfield, the protagonist of Final Fantasy XVI. The first mission in Stillwind makes the player familiar with the classes of enemies that they will be confronted with throughout the game. A small mob like the goblins that have no stagger meter and are easy to combo; a larger mob like the Gigas that have a stagger meter and are more difficult to combo; and finally the boss/mini-boss class of enemies like the Morbol that have large health bars and cinematic interactions.
It creates a standard for itself that the game is obligated to maintain, and it never subverts the player's expectations without explicit intent. After the mission in Stillwind, Clive returns to Phoenix Gate, where the events of the “cold open for the cold open” play out again. It ends in a brutal and visceral scene of Ifrit destroying Phoenix Gate and defeating the Phoenix. There is no musical score accompanying the scene; all that can be heard are the sounds of flames from the destruction of Phoenix Gate and Clive's desperate declaration for revenge.
The scene transitions to the aftermath, where Clive is made a slave for the Holy Empire of Sanbreque. Once again, there is no musical score; it is just the sound of the rain and Clive's defeated voice calling out for his brother Joshua in the moments before the title card boldly announces itself after two hours of gameplay. It really makes the player work for that title card drop compared to a film like Evil Dead Rise, which delivers the cold open in just six and a half minutes. If Evil Dead Rise's cold open is a “taste of what's to come,” then Final Fantasy XVI's is an absolute “feast of what's to come.”
