Earlier this week, Game Informer celebrated their favorite cult classic games with a lineup of expository features. I've decided to join in with a piece examining my own favorite cult classic game, Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon. Although it might not have the universal critical praise or vocal audience of some cult classics, it made an impression on me unmatched by many mainstream offerings.
Co-developed by Namco and Tri-Crescendo, and published in North America by the good folk at XSEED Games, Fragile Dreams Farwell Ruins of the Moon can best be described as a video game version of a graphic novel. Set in the post-apocalyptic ruins of Japan, its visual style draws heavily from Japanese animation for its colorful character designs. What really sets the game apart, however, is its melancholy-painted scenery and multi-layered emotional storytelling.
The game stars 15-year-old Seto, a boy who has grown up in a seemingly empty world. Humanity has disappeared from the face of the earth, leaving all that they created behind to rot away in silence. Following the death of his elderly caretaker, Seto sets out to look for survivors across a haunted wasteland of decaying structures and lost souls. His journey takes him from one heartbreaking epoch to the next as he searches for a mysterious young girl, Ren, who he hopes to befriend. Unlike most fictions set after the end of the world, Seto isn't driven by the need to survive. Instead, his journey is fueled by the hope that he isn't alone, that there is someone out there to share his lonely existence with. This emotional angle allows for a more whimsical, almost spiritual take on the aftermath of civilization.
From a modern perspective, Fragile Dream's doesn't meet many expectations for what a video game is supposed to deliver. Moving around an environment, crouching under debris and searching for hidden items would be necessary background activities in most games. In Fragile Dreams, however, these tasks constitute the main gameplay. You move Seto through environments in a third person view using the control stick. Changing the direction he faces is handled by the Wii's motion pointer. At anytime the view can be changed to a first person "Search Mode" in order to better locate items. Combat is simplified into a single button press that relies more on timing than precision. Weapons come in both melee and projectile varieties, including everything from wooden sticks, brooms, hammers, swords and even crossbows. Each one is of varying durability, and the need to maintain a cache of weapons in case of breakage is at the heart of the game's limited survival horror-styled resource conservation.
Like many games released for the Wii, Fragile Dreams tried to use the system's motion controls to enhance its gameplay. Using the Wii Remote to direct the beam of a flashlight isn't the most inspired mechanic, but is effective nonetheless. It's impressive that such an intriguing game could be created around such a simplistic concept. Ultimately the basic, yet functional controls are perfect for a game like Fragile Dreams, which isn't focused on delivering complex gameplay.
Its apparent archaic design, simplistic controls and objectives are what make Fragile Dreams so compelling. Today's gaming landscape is dominated by rollercoaster-ride action and complex combo controls. Fragile Dream's slow-paced minimalism is a breath of fresh air in comparison. Without an intricate combat system to master, the game allows you to immerse yourself into exploring its imaginative world. At its heart Fragile Dreams is an interactive story. It offers a world to explore, where fighting enemies and solving puzzles take a backseat to delving into its secrets. Standout locations include the dark forsaken tunnels of a dilapidated subway system, a dank hotel overgrown with plant life and a rundown amusement park, whose rusting attractions stand like juggernauts overhead. Although backtracking is often required, the environments seldom become tedious to explore.
Fragile Dream's story is shaped by Seto's bonding with the characters he meets through the course of the game. Although some accompany him as side kicks similar to the ones from Zelda games, most pop in and out from the sidelines to impact the plot in surprising ways. Regardles, Fragile Dreams knows how to use the story-arcs of its side characters to pull at someone's emotional chords. Playing hide seek with the lost spirit of a little girl waiting to join her mother on the other side stands out as an early tearjerker. Yet even heartwarming scenes like this are always have a depressing angle to them. Throughout his journey, Seto is forced to constantly say good bye to many newly met friends. Because of this, you never know what kind of tragedy is looming ahead for any of them.
Even though combat isn't Fragile Dream's focus, it still manages to deliver memorable boss fights and creative enemies. Most of these come in the form of hostile spirits, such as ghostly hands grasping from walls, the floating specter of a wailing women, or masked malevolent entities. With all these supernatural apparitions seeking to do Seto harm, one would think the game would have scaring players as one of its priorities. The game's mood, however, generally doesn't go beyond being moderately unsettling. Enemies of the more physical kind also abound, including feral dogs and, believe it or not, a giant mole at one point. Perhaps the most bizarre battle occurs when Seto goes up against a possessed construction crane.
I've seldom experienced a game with presentation that is as consistently beautiful as Fragile Dreams. Despite its desolate world of decaying ruins, the scenery never fails to impress the eyes with lovely imagery. Whether it is an evening sky tinted with swirling red and blue colors by the setting sun, or a lily pad pond illuminated by a watchful moon, the game succeeds consistently with creating gorgeous backdrops. Namco and Tri-Crescendo truly knew how to make use of the Wii's limited graphical power. Although textures occasionally appear blurry, the game's overall beauty always shines through, blending color into the usually gray environments of a post-apocalyptic world. The game's musical score is also an object of true elegance. Lullaby piano melodies express tender serene beauty with each note. Overall the soundtrack reflects the narrative's tone perfectly, expressing both sadness and hope.
"A Dedication to... Everyone" -one of the game's most lovely soundtracks. For some reason I couldn't get the YouTube video to embed.
I can give nothing but my most profound thanks to XSEED for bringing Fragile Dreams over stateside. As everyone's favorite Japanese game distributor, XSEED always puts the utmost effort into localizing obscure games like Fragile Dreams, delivering them with bows and ribbons to niche audiences. Not only did was the in-game translations handled expertly, but XSEED put extra effort into including a beautiful colored manual with the game, along with double-sided box art, so collectors could choose between the American and Japanese cover art. It's rare these days to see a game's packaging treated with such artistic care. My only complaint concerning the localization is the hit-and-miss quality of the English dubbing. Despite having big-name voice actors like Johnny Yong Bosch, who plays Seto, much of the voice acting is a tad overdone. This flaw is meditative by the inclusion of the Japanese voice track. Not only do the original voices generally fit the characters better, the also enhance the immersion of exploring a post apocalyptic Japanese setting.
Fragile Dreams is more like an artistic experience than a video game. Still, the interactive nature of the medium is able, in my opinion, to express the game's story better than a comic or film could do. Exploring Fragile Dream's world and guiding its tragic protagonist firsthand lends far greater depth to the experience. Fragile Dream's story is not especially happy. Instead, it frequently verges on being downright depressing. With that said, it never fails to make its underlying sadness beautiful.