FFXV's Royal Pack: Facing The Dangers Of "Games As A Service"

Released to coincide with the release of Final Fantasy XV’s PC edition in March of 2018, the Royal Pack downloadable content is the apotheosis of XV’s bizarre, and often disjointed, approach to post-launch content for a single-player game. The fifteenth mainline entry of Square-Enix’s storied Final Fantasy franchise was a divisively modern and unconventional JRPG. Despite launching with the intent to appeal to both new players and long-time fans, XV proved so unpopular with those fans who had numerous preconceptions of what a Final Fantasy game should be that each piece of downloadable content has sought to resolve the criticisms held by the core fan-base. This featured everything from extended narrative sequences to a plethora of combat extensions and, as the content plan has progressed, the changes have become more and more profound. The Royal Pack, and particularly the changes to XV’s Chapter 14, is the culmination of this.

The expansion to XV’s final dungeon does not only add optional content (though it has this in spades, featuring vehicular exploration, side-quests and a new super-boss), but makes fundamental changes to the tone, pacing and even story of XV. These changes expose the poorly conceived post-launch content plan, as each instance works individually but, when combined, fail nonetheless. The new “Rulers of Yore” boss fights are some of the games best, featuring some fantastic music and well conceived quick-time events, and it’s hard to shrug off the other gameplay enhancements (the scale of the City of Insomnia is particularly pleasing). The additional character crescendos work similarly, as each party member gets a “Ruler of Yore” boss to defeat of their own, and these prove necessary to cap off their inclusion in the game as main, playable characters. But, the game wasn’t designed with these instances in mind and it shows. Retroactively adding content to the chapter affects its tone and continuity, as characters transition from sombre to melodramatic seamlessly. The Royal Pack content sticks out blindingly and appears to have been implemented with very little care. Adding a new boss fight between the party’s entry of the citadel and exploration further in leads to the party’s odd exclamation that the room is lit up, long after first entering.

The original XV has, what I feel is, one of modern gaming’s finest endings. It’s sombre, regretful and often feels like a counter to the conventional JRPG ending, which requires incomparable action feats and melodramatic character exclamations. That one of XV’s most powerful scenes is a man struggling to express his emotions to his friends around a campfire highlights the uniqueness of vanilla XV. The Royal Pack content runs antithesis to this, with party members who no longer look, talk and act like the genuine people we had previously enjoyed in the rest of the game. Even when the game provided a fantasy setting, just with cars, the party fulfilled the promise of a “fantasy based on reality”. These melodramatic reimagining’s of the characters which we see in the new Chapter 14 are not only at odds with the rest of the chapter, but with their appearance in the game itself.

It’s not only the characters who are more melodramatic and conventionally ‘JRPG’ either, the relentless boss fights and cinematic moments dilute the special moments that were already there. An addition of Lunafreya and the host of Summons (in-game deities) removes the thrill of seeing both Lunafreya again and the debut of Bahamut, most powerful of the Summons, as he had already showed up in this additional sequence. It shows in actual gameplay, also. With the transformation of a generic encounter into the cinematic Cerberus boss, the already present Ifrit boss, three new “Rulers of Yore” encounters (The Fierce, The Rogue and The Mystic) and Ardyn’s final boss, the Chapter 14 pacing is completely transformed. No longer is there a sombre, regretful walk to your final encounter, its place is taken by bombastic action; there’s no anticipation in the Royal Pack Chapter 14, only the next set piece.

It becomes clear that the Chapter 14 expansion became more about the transmedia Final Fantasy XV Universe than the game itself, working primarily to embed Kingsglaive (the CG prequel film) and Comrades (the multiplayer expansion) into the universe some more. Monsters and themes of Kingsglaive are suitably realised in the expanded dungeon, whilst you can also encounter the player’s custom character and others from Comrades. The failure of Comrades was in its fundamentally misunderstanding of the appeal of XV, creating a dark, bitter world, with no exploration or character, for its multiplayer mode and it is this misunderstanding of their own product that has caused such a tumultuous post-launch content plan to take hold.

So, why, months after release, is it critical to imperil XV’s Royal Pack? Simply, the post-launch meddling sets a concerning precedent for live-service single player games. The original Chapter 14, as it stands, may never gain the benefit of hindsight or any future reconsideration. To question the archivist, which goes in the vault: the Day One Edition, the Royal Edition or both? Those who have paid for the Royal Pack content have a perfectly functional game transformed into something new, whether you feel it as a lesser experience or not. Here, the consumer is paying to have a product renovated according to populist whims, with currently no option to experience the vanilla version (particularly on PC). This brings into question the entire notion of video games as a storytelling medium; are they to tell the stories developers want to tell or stories that fans want to experience?

Final Fantasy XV is arguably the biggest “live-service” single player game we’ve so far seen, which is why the post-launch content has often felt so strange. It’s really the first of its kind. The story is now developed according to the whims of service payers, leading new additions to be implemented in an incongruous and unfocused way. This is important to note in the context of live service multiplayer games damaging interest in single player games (or, at least, the belief of developers that this is the case). Already we have seen a transition towards open, sandbox single player game design, foregoing linearity in exchange for potential Twitch popularity. XV is the next step in this development. It may have been a hybrid live/conventional dlc model (XV had no lootboxes or microtransactions, operating its service on sales of a Season Pass), but the Royal Pack content exposes the future of single player games that attempt to emulate it. For future development of “live” single player games, the lessons on this subject are all to be found in the fraught (and on-going) history of Final Fantasy XV.

The Cyclical Cyclops: Re-Examining Uncanny X-Men #201

An in-depth re-examination of "Duel." Uncanny X-Men #201. Chris Claremont (W) and Rick Leonardi (A). 1986.





One of the 80s X-Men's most pivotal issues, "Duel" is one of several watershed moments in the transition from Claremont's first iteration of X-Men into the hardline, rebellious group that would populate the "Outback Era". The eponymous "Duel" refers to a match between a de-powered Storm and new father Cyclops (aka Scott Summers), competing for the leadership of the X-Men. Storm's victory would set the X-Men on a new, era-defining path, which lends the issue itself to be read as a Storm-centric, 'feat' issue. I want to offer up an alternative reading, as this issue isn't actually about Storm at all. Rather it comments, primarily, on two things: Cyclops' character and the unescapable, cyclical nature of superhero genre comic-books.

Despite being a cover star, Storm, in this story, is not her own champion. She isn't really overcoming the masculine incumbent to finally probe herself worthy, as she already has the support of the team (Logan, particularly) and faces no significant obstacle to overcome. Her journey towards leadership, her exam, was the preceding issues. "Duel" is more so her graduation, where she is formally recognised for her previous success, and her ascendance to leadership has a real essence of inevitability. The story then becomes not a story of "Who will lead them?" but how can Cyclops cope with the realisation that he has become obsolete. Storm, instead of operating as her own champion, is the champion for Madelyne Pryor- Cyclops' scorned wife and mother of his child- and, further, a representation of the X-Men's (both team and franchise) ability to survive without Cyclops. Storm is the Claremont-driven future, confronting Cyclops, one of the final handovers from the Lee/Kirby original conception. Cyclops has proven inattentive to his wife and newborn son and Madelyne, as civilian, cannot challenge Cyclops' absence in the way that superheroic Storm can. Storm steps up as a defender of the innocent, because she has gone through her own journey to do so, but this is not a significant action for her character.





Tension comes from all sides, as Storm has been making herself a viable presence, despite her loss of powers, in the preceding issues, and Cyclops' peaceful retirement has been interrupted by repeated super-heroics. Not only does the return of Cyclops create tension for his civilian wife, but with the stories own writer as well. Chris Claremont's plotting here reeks of frustration; editorial mandate ensured that he could not effectively retire Cyclops from the X-Men, as per his original intent and, with the launch of Cyclops-starring X-Factor, logical development for Cyclops' character was jettisoned in favour for a return to the status quo. The problem posed for Cyclops in "Duel" is that he has never learned how to relate to the X-Men outside of a micro-managing, obsessive leadership role, his single eye representing his singular vision for how the X-Men can reach their goals. When this issue challenges that, it should have been a moment of reflection and change, one which the character could grow from. Yet what we saw instead was the instantaneous return of the character to a leadership role; one that would remain mostly unchallenged for twenty-five years. The tone is never sympathetic to Storm, her victory is sombre and focused entirely on her opponent, and I'd argue that this is because Claremont never meant it to read as a cheer-able moment. Storm's silence allows Scott's mind-space and we are given a final opportunity to read Cyclops as the issue's tragic main character.





The Cyclops we see in "Duel" may be a sad figure, but he's not an unsympathetic one. If there is a main character here, it is him. Rather than documenting Storm's thunderous triumph, Claremont walks us through Cyclops' total defeat. And it is a defeat. Retroactive continuity, attempting to make the character a more clear-cut superhero again, transformed his loss in "Duel" to be a product of psychic interference on behalf of Madelyne (who was also retroactively transformed into an unknowing clone of Jean Grey), but even the original shows that he loses because of her. Only, in the original, his defeat comes from distraction, confusion and self-loathing. Cyclops defeat of himself is more prevalent than Madelyne's psychic interference or Storm's competence ever could be. That isn't to detract from Storm's ascension to leadership but, as mentioned previously, she earned that well before this issue took place. This particular story documents not an even match, but a loss.

So, I do think that we are supposed to sympathise with Cyclops in this issue, only we cannot do so from rigid moral perspectives. His conflict is reprehensible, he is prioritising his own identity anxieties over the welfare of his infant son, yet he remains still relatable. He acts selfishly, not inhumanly, and, whilst on the surface level the character can come across as a deadbeat dad, that is not wherein the tragedy lies. Rather the tragedy comes from Claremont's criticism of the cyclical, repetitive superhero comic book, the book which always returns to the status quo.

Storm's victory is telegraphed early on in the issue- she wins by removing his visor, leaving him incapable of controlling his powers, and earlier on we see Cyclops requires focus to manage his visor; a focus he did not have because of his conflicting feelings about Madelyne, his baby and the X-Men. The use of the superhero icon of the costume reiterates thematic qualities in the story, such as Cyclops' inability to comprehend a life outside the X-Men; not once does he remove it in this story. Even when arguing with Madelyne, all he can do is pull back his hood. Even in domestic affairs, Scott Summers can never truly detach himself from his X-Men identity.





And it is here that the tragic reality of Cyclops is exposed. The Cyclops we see here is somewhat of a nowhere man- he has graduated into civilian life, yet, because of the nature of the medium, he finds himself incapable of leaving the X-Men. He can dream of a normal life, but he must also destroy it, lest he truly find happiness and remove himself from the superhero genre altogether.

We see a theme of parenthood and legacy prevalent in this issue, interrogated not only through Cyclops, but Xavier also (Rachel Summers feeds into this theme, also). Cyclops is derided for his lack of commitment to his family, his son particularly, yet his father figure has also recently abandoned him. Claremont makes a point of reminding the audience this, so we can read the Cyclops of "Duel" as a product of Xavier's questionable parenting. Cyclops has never been able to define himself outside of the team, becoming institutionalised, and Maddie herself calls Cyclops out for having no skills to support a family. In his Astonishing X-Men run, Joss Whedon also touches on one of the recurring traits of Cyclops as a character- outside of leading the X-Men, Cyclops has nothing else. As an orphan, groomed and educated for a single purpose by Charles Xavier, Cyclops is totally lost when the structures and rules of his world start to fall apart. Feelings of trepidation in the face of giant monsters or battles in space pale in comparison to his feelings of abandonment.

He had dedicated his life to the X-Men, who now no longer need him the way they once did, and absent father Xavier has no advice to give to Cyclops at this moment. I read this as a demonstration that the key conflict of "Duel" is, not between two superheroes, but between two families- namely Scott's X-Men family and his family with Madelyne.





Claremont has Cyclops act as unwitting commentary on the failings of attempting to tell exciting, emergent stories in a medium and genre that relies on tedious, nostalgic revisiting. Cyclops' refusal to grow up and learn to define himself outside of the X-Men, his core emotional conflict of the issue, reads as commentary on a format that itself refuses to grow up and define itself outside of the trite framework it has found itself embroiled in. Claremont takes an artefact of the medium which he has no control over, the inevitable return of Cyclops to the X-Men, and crafts it in such a way that is has emotional relevance, narrative meaning and contributes to a greater understanding of the character. Before #201, you could see that Cyclops had less of a life outside of the X-Men than his counter-parts, but this is the issue that solidified a Cyclops who didn't know how to exist outside of leading a team. It would define characterisations of Cyclops for decades to come.





I do not feel that "Duel" can be read as a Storm-centric issue, because it just isn't one. It does the story itself so little justice to be relegated to a footnote on a 'Who Could Beat Storm In A Fight?' piece. The issue also shouldn't be used as evidence for some imagined Claremont hatred for Cyclops, for it truly shows Cyclops at his most complex and, in a meta sense, profound. Cyclops is used as a narrative tool to examine the genre and franchise- signifying the forthcoming era change, whilst also reflecting back on the mind-set that insists on constantly bringing him back.

"Duel" is about a Cyclops loss. In fact, it is about many Cyclops losses. This is arguably the character's lowest point, but Claremont's final deconstruction of the character is one of his most meaningful and significant issues for Cyclops characterisation. More than just being about Cyclops though, the issue is apt criticism of the failings of the format itself. It is telling that Claremont's first tenure on the book ended with Cyclops restored to his leadership role, with marriage to Madelyne dissolved and no baby son to look after. The status quo, and sanctity of the genre, will persist, no matter which character stands in the way.





It is worth noting that Claremont utilises Storm specifically to remove Cyclops from the franchise's flagship book, despite having, at one point, intended to push these characters into a relationship together. Such a couple is now unimaginable and, arguably, our incapacity to imagine such a relationship derives from misreading this very issue. The perception that it is Cyclops who stands as a barrier to Storm's leadership and independence has formulated an undeniable antagonism between the two, one which has persisted in how these two have been characterised through Cyclops' (most recent) death. This may also go some way to explain the frothing, vitriolic hatred that dedicated Storm fans and dedicated Cyclops fans seem to have for each other.