When it comes to games, I don't put much stock in
prestige. Plenty of them are put on an impossibly high pedestal for their influence alone, and have
often struggled to maintain that reputation. Super Mario 64, though an undeniably huge influence
on 3D game design, is still one of the first 3D platformers ever released: and it shows. I still
like 64 a lot, but there are a deluge of better options out there if you're looking for a solid 3D
platformer. We can acknowledge its importance to those future titles, even recognize that without
it we wouldn't have those future titles, but that doesn't eliminate its own shortcomings. Even a
game like A Link to the Past, which has stood up better than most, is arguably less special than
it used to be. I feel like the balance it strives for has since been done better in games like
Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. Of course, this is just my opinion and everyone is free to
disagree as always; however, I don't like the idea that there's this rule of discussion that states
you must consider a game within its own context. It is certainly a valid way of looking at art,
but why does it have to be the only valid way? It just seems like a convenient excuse for people to
protect these older games from the heretical idea that some people might not like them as much.
No matter how influential your ideas were in a different era, it's difficult for even the best
of games to escape the wear and tear of time.
Chrono Trigger has been recommended to me
ad infinitum. Lauded as the best JRPG to ever exist for nearly 25 years, its reputation
precedes itself. As a Gamecube baby born in 1997, unless it was through re-releases, I didn't play
much from the 20th century. I missed out on A Link to the Past, Super Metroid, Super Mario
World, Yoshi's Island, Donkey Kong Country, and pretty much every other SNES era classic.
Through my Game Boy Advance and Nintendo DS I played games like Kirby Superstar Ultra and
Super Mario Advance 2, but it's safe to say I'm not an expert in the game design of that era.
Travelling back has been a fairly good experience, but I usually come out of it feeling like the hype
has been overblown. I assumed, perhaps wrongly, that Chrono Trigger would be the same. That I'd
enjoy it like all the others, but come out of it feeling underwhelmed. After all: how can an SNES
JRPG from 1995 still pack that kinda power when there have been dozens of games like it since?
Well, sit down for a bit, because Chrono Trigger is one of the best games I've played in recent
memory. It feels like it could have been created this year and I wouldn't even know the difference.
I'm not exaggerating when I say it is a perfect mixture of some truly innovative features. This
will be a Chrono Trigger Retrospective.
--
I feel obligated to preface that my first playthrough began very recently. I have zero
nostalgic attachment to anything Chrono Trigger, so this perspective is as neutral as you
could possibly get. Another side note, I captured the footage you're seeing from
the PC version, mostly because it is the best looking version out there and I want the
video to look nice. I consider the DS version to be definitive and prefer to play it on there.
Hironobu Sakaguchi, the creator of Final Fantasy; Yuji Horii, the creator of Dragon Quest; and
Akira Toriyama, the creator of Dragon Ball, came together to craft something that (quote)
no one had ever seen before. Yasunori Mitsuda infamously worked himself to the point of
developing stomach ulcers, sometimes sleeping in his studio to get more work done and maximize
his efficiency. Of course, it was an unhealthy thing he did and doubtless many of us nowadays
would object to him doing something like that: but I bring it up to show just ridiculously
high the passion was for this project. It was originally licensed as a Final Fantasy game, but
it broke away from that; time travel was initially shot down, only to become the core conceit;
they couldn't make branching story pathways, so they shifted to a variety of different endings
based on player choices instead. Despite every difficulty, the team rose above it and stuck
to their guns to finish their passion project: and the final product reflects that ambition.
When I got to the trial scene, I realized that this would be something special. Seemingly inane
choices made during the Millennial Faire came back to bite me in ways I never could have imagined.
Selecting silly dialogue options like I do in basically every game I've ever played, swayed the
public into believing I was a criminal worthy of the death penalty. Decisions that I didn't even
know were decisions, like trying to run away when Marle is picking out candy, or picking
up Marle's pendant before speaking to her, had me facepalming in retrospect. Before I knew
it, I was being carted off to my execution. If I were to have played optimally and swayed the
public to my side, the official response would be 3 days of solitary confinement with a secret
execution. Though these choices don't ultimately change much from a gameplay standpoint, besides
some extra items, they inject some much needed personality to everyone's first playthrough.
You don't normally need to think about dialogue options in games, because they aren't
really presented as choices. Much like death, your responses are seemingly ignored in favor of
presenting an unconstructive main progression. You could be the biggest dick in the universe,
selecting the stupidest options imaginable, but the story will largely ignore those responses.
Chrono Trigger can't just stop at flavor text, though. Practically any decision you're given is
relevant in some way. After being carted off to prison, how do you escape? You can wait it out
and have Lucca save you, or you can bang on the door until a guard walks in, allowing you to knock
him out and escape. You might not even realize you have to wait around if you bang on the door, and
you might not even realize you could escape if you wait around and notice that the days are passing
you by. I sure as hell didn't know you could just wait for your execution when I first played, what
other game does something like that? What makes this so impressive is that Chrono Trigger does
not stop offering you these choices. When you find Magus sitting on a cliff, you get the choice
to kill him or spare him. Your perception of Frog will change in almost undetectable ways depending
on your choice. If you spare him right out of the gate, you could interpret that as Frog realizing
that revenge is not the answer. If you kill him, you could interpret that as Frog exacting his
much deserved revenge. It even makes you fight him 1-on-1. This is especially believable since
he won't tell you who he is unless you spare him. Killing him will also permanently bar you from
using him as a party member, obviously. With the exception of saving Magus and Crono, none
of these choices have any universe-altering gameplay effects, so you could argue that they
are largely irrelevant when compared to more complex role-playing mechanics that better define
your character. These choices have nothing on the web of player-defining decisions in something
like Fallout New Vegas, but I also think there's a beauty to the simplicity of the choices in
Chrono Trigger. Instead of focusing on hundreds of different branching paths and stretching
the story too thin, these choices affect the world in subtle ways. When Lucca is sent back to
the past so she can relive her mother's injury, the scene serves two purposes: to contextualize
why Lucca's mom was always sitting (a question the player may not have even had until this moment);
and to present a choice to the player that will rewrite history and prevent her legs from ever
being injured. There are no gameplay ramifications for this choice: instead, the player can feel
content when they visit Lucca's now healthy mom. This choice is purposely obfuscated to put the
player in the same petrified headspace as the eight year old Lucca. Maybe you saw the note on
the table telling you the password, like I did, but you won't know the input method. You only have
a few seconds to work it all out in your head, and there are no second chances. Depending
on how you handle this, you might forever think that this was just a flashback scene meant
to better develop her as a character. That was actually my first thought, that the scene was
trying to convey Lucca's hopelessness by making the player unable to help her mom even as a time
traveler. Come to find out, you can actually save her: that would be like finding out you could
secretly save Jesse, Biggs and Wedge in Final Fantasy 7. I've never seen a game do this before.
Cryptic design can often feel out of place, but when paired with insignificant outcomes, it's
hard for the player to be upset when they can't find those right answers to the questions they
might not even be asking in the first place.
These smaller scale choices are a perfect fit for
Chrono Trigger's time-traveling conceit. You're forced to think about decision-making in regards
to how it will affect the time stream. Some of these are obvious: citizens of the Kingdom
of Zeal talk of the powerful Moon Stones, which store energy from the sun for thousands of
years. It's up to the player to realize that there are sun shrines in every time period. This
in itself is nothing complicated; however, it's the twist on player expectations that
makes it stand out. You might think that all you have to do is travel to the distant future
and pick it up, but upon reaching the shrine, the Moon Stone will be missing. Traveling back to the
Present reveals that it was only recently stolen, leading you to the Mayor of Porre. Driven by a
sense of greed that is tearing his family apart, he has stolen the Moon Stone and refuses to admit
it. The solution to this predicament is unclear. You'll likely be trapped in the headspace that
the solution must be somewhere nearby. I remember running around town, talking to everyone just
so I could figure out what this guy even wants. Why won't this guy just give me the damn stone?
Can I pay him? Can I kill him? Can I trade him for it? What am I supposed to do. The answer is
surprisingly obvious, but only if you recognize that you're a fucking time traveler. There is a
seemingly unrelated woman in the same building 400 years in the past who really wants beef jerky.
Making her pay for the beef jerky will solidify her worldview that only the rich can find true
happiness. She passes this onto her children, turning her descendants into greedy pricks. Giving
it away for free, however, will cause a change of heart that will directly affect her descendants.
Two dilemmas that would be entirely unrelated in any other game are linked by the player's
ability to time travel. Not only do they have to put this together for themselves, it is in no
way required. Often these older games will make progression unnecessarily confusing. You ever try
playing Zelda 2 or the first Final Fantasy? It's pretty damn hard to figure out what's going on,
especially with all the damn interruptions on that pathway. Future games would overcorrected this
type of design by making it frustratingly clear to the player what you have to do next. In an RPG
or Adventure game, finding that balance is really important. Not only is Chrono Trigger's main
progression a beautiful mixture of straightforward and obscure: it has the courage to make every
single one of its sidequests super cryptic.
Perhaps the most powerful instance of obscure
decision making, and my favorite mixture of main progression and sidequest design, centers
around Crono's resurrection. Chrono Trigger, a 90s SNES JRPG, has the gall to kill off its main
character and make his resurrection completely optional. In order to save him, you have to
get the Chrono Trigger from the Guru of Time, win a Crono Doll from the Millennial Faire,
talk to Belthasar, brave Death's Peak, and swap Crono out for the doll. While some of these
are self-explanatory, like obtaining the Chrono Trigger, what you're supposed to do with these
items and where you need to find them are not. Belthasar will inform you that a body double will
be required to save Crono, but not only will the player need to seek out Belthasar of their own
volition, there's no guarantee they even know how to obtain it. It's a reward for completing
one of three mini-games at the Millennial Faire, and is incredibly easy to miss on a casual
playthrough. What would be unnecessarily cryptic main progression in any other RPG is rendered
genius by Chrono Trigger's willingness to make it optional. Beating Lavos without Crono is not
only possible, but quite likely if you don't know what you're doing. Shortly after his death, the
Black Omen surfaces in various time periods, and serves as an obvious waypoint for the player
to gravitate toward. Players who expect Crono to come back somewhere along the way might
even be inclined to continue along that path, and they'll eventually obtain a fully fleshed out
ending variant where Crono is still dead. Events will play out a bevy of different ways depending
on how you approached Lavos to fight him, whether or not you obtained the Chrono Trigger from the
Guru of Time, and whether or not you wrecked the Epoch. All roads lead to Crono's resurrection, but
they're all subtly different based on seemingly irrelevant choices you might have made. It will
forever differ from the ending where you save Crono beforehand, and will forever differ from the
ending where you save Crono and put Cyrus to rest, and will forever differ from the ending where
you save Crono and Lucca's mom, etc. There are so many different endings that you can't
even hope to experience them all in only a couple playthroughs: but that's the beauty
of Chrono Trigger's story presentation.
The adventure you have in Chrono Trigger will
always be what you make of it. Whether you lay Cyrus to rest or ignore him, whether you mend
the relationship between Marle and her father or perpetuate it, whether you beat Lavos in the
Ocean Palace or on the Day of Lavos: you will carve out your own Chrono Trigger. It's a wacky
game, one where your party consists of a talking frog swordsman, a powerful cave woman, a robot who
develops feelings, and the fiendlord himself. All of you travel the different time periods bound by
a common goal: but the journey is more important than the destination. Characters in Chrono
Trigger may err on the simpler side, but their development is often handled at the whim of the
player rather than by the game's own pacing.
What this often means is that character defining
moments are relegated to sidequests. Sure, Frog has his main story arc surrounding
the Masamune, Cyrus, and the Fiendlord: but he has an additional, optional side quest to
complete where he lays Cyrus' soul to rest and has a heart-to-heart with him about everything
that happened. You won't find out anything about Lucca's mom if you don't restore the forest
for Fiona, meaning that it's possible for it to completely fly over a casual player's head if
they don't progress that sidequest; however, that tidbit isn't entirely necessary to understand and
love Lucca. She's a quirky inventor who helps Robo understand that even robots can be loved. Marle's
relationship with her father has nothing to do with her upbeat and playful attitude, but if you
like her enough you can pursue and help to mend that relationship. Completing the sidequest
will add a new dimension to her character, for sure: but I've never seen a game that doesn't
force this information down your throat, and instead asks you to figure it out yourself.
Party composition can affect this perception as well. You can swap out your party for different
dungeons depending on which characters you want to see more of, or who you think would have the most
to say before an upcoming boss fight. Obviously, putting Frog in the party during the fight
against Magus is a no brainer and also required, but whether you choose to put Lucca, Robo, or
Marle alongside them is up to the player's own interest. Again, it's a really small touch, maybe
one or two lines of unique dialogue, but it's yet another meaningful choice the player can make.
While this could potentially lead players to ignore the characters they have less interest
in, snowballing their irrelevance, the TP system exists to ensure you switch your team out often.
Every character can learn a dual or triple tech with one another, and with 6 characters to mix
and match across twenty or so hours of runtime, you'll get to see what every character has
to offer at a steady clip. This is part of why Chrono Trigger has such a wonderful sense of
pacing: you're never in one place for too long, and you're always switching up your party. One
moment you're exploring the Millennial Faire, the next you're in 600 A.D. helping a frog
save the queen, the next you're on trial for kidnapping Marle, the next you're whisked away
to a post-apocalyptic future where you learn of a terrible tragedy that will strike the planet.
Each of these sections last anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour, each offering new insight
into the characters, world, and storyline.
Final Fantasy 7 also had this type of pacing,
where it jerks you around from place to place, but I'd argue that it moves too rapidly for its
own good. By the time I reached the Golden Saucer, not only was I feeling tonal whiplash after
the lengthy and engaging Midgar opening, but my interest in the overall narrative was
rapidly waning. Chrono Trigger avoids this by standing on an immediately ridiculous premise.
It's clear within the first few hours what the threat is: Lavos, a calamity-level event that will
inevitably leave the world at the brink of ruin. Our idealistic heroes endeavor to stop him and
save the future. Maybe it's simpler than the setup of Final Fantasy 7, but that also lends itself
to a more natural pace. Final Fantasy 7 has a fairly complicated struggle at the onset: a group
of eco-terrorists struggling against a capitalist empire. It's a bitter struggle, some members
die in the process, and they all narrowly escape with their lives. There may have been some out
there moments, like when Cloud cross-dresses to sneak into a rich guy's mansion, but it was
ultimately to save Tifa. Leaving Midgar sees the player relentlessly pursuing Sephiroth on
a wild goose chase with very little progress. You'll talk to a random NPC and they'll say,
"well I think Sephiroth went that way I guess." This is when it really started to lose me,
because the journey started to feel aimless.
Chrono Trigger doesn't have much to actually
develop plot-wise. You eventually learn more about what Lavos is, but that's done gradually
throughout the game. You fight Magus because you think it'll stop him from summoning Lavos;
you help Ayla stop the Reptite invasion and inadvertently learn that Lavos crash-landed
in 65,000,000 B.C.; you explore the Kingdom of Zeal in hopes of slaying Lavos before
any of this could ever become a problem. Tangents in said narrative occur naturally
and for good reason. The chancellor (on top of secretly being a monster) has every right to
be suspicious of Crono after Marle went missing, so his trial makes sense and throws the player for
a loop. You first travel to prehistoric times to find a stone that can help repair the Masamune,
but get sidetracked and trapped after the Time Gate is stolen. We get to learn more about
Ayla and the growing Reptite invasion, and this section is right before an empowering moment
with Frog where you storm the Fiendlord's castle. I particularly enjoy how time traveling is used to
efficiently learn the entire history of the world in a mere twenty hours. Special chests, capsules,
and doors, which initially serve no purpose, are later revealed to be remnants of the ancient
and long-forgotten Kingdom of Zeal. When Lavos struck and the Kingdom fell, so too did all of
its treasure and technology. Marle's pendant was created and passed down by said Kingdom.
Lavos is known to have time manipulation, which is part of the reason time gates start
appearing everywhere, but this also explains why Marle's pendant opened up the first time gate
we see. It was created using Lavos' energy.
The Kingdom of Zeal was one of the highlights for
me personally. Not only does it sport perhaps the best track in the entire game, it's genuinely
surprising to learn about its existence. I sorta just assumed that the ice age would be
void of life, and that the middle ages would develop somewhere along the way mirroring our
own history. Come to find out that there was an advanced civilization living in the sky
thousands of years ago, tapping into Lavos' energy. Unspoken touches of a socioeconomic
divide can be felt through the land dwellers, who live underground in abject poverty. Up above
the clouds, the weather is clear, there's magic everywhere, and humanity prospers. When it all
comes crashing down, so too does their arrogance. Their technology is gone, and they now have to
live in the bitter cold alongside the poor land dwellers. It's both a surface level commentary on
the dangers of class divide, and a way to explain how the world developed into the middle ages.
There are so many fun little unexpected twists, like how Magus was only trying to summon Lavos so
he could kill it and get revenge for his sister. Having the Fiendlord himself join your party,
after all he did to the world and to Cyrus, was a shock to the system. It is a shame that
he doesn't really bond with the other party members. He can't learn dual or triple techs,
and the closest thing he has to a side quest is to take out his former underlings and improve
the relationship between humans and fiends, somewhat reconciling his previous wrongdoings. But
that isn't felt much through the actual dialogue. I get that he's a loner, and that the game
reflects that by making him individually powerful. I just feel like there could have been more
development between him and Frog especially.
Even wanting that, though: I completely understand
why the other members would be hesitant to bond with him. Our other party members probably
wouldn't be too keen on hanging out with such a major villain: it's really that common goal
of slaying Lavos binding everyone together. Whether it fills out a new detail of the world,
further develops a new character, or drives the plot forward: there's never a dull or useless
moment; everything in this story has a purpose, even the seemingly silly and improbable tangents.
There's something to be said about just how hard it is to pull that off.
--
Final Fantasy 4 was the first turn-based JRPG to
implement the Active Time Battle gauge. It adds a timer to turn-based battles, which means
you can't just sit around and do nothing: the enemy will attack as soon as they're able
no matter what you do, so you need to think fast. It keeps the player on the edge of their
seat and forces them to think up a strategy on the fly. In most other games I've played
with this mechanic, it serves as more of a tension builder than anything else. If you wait
around too long and can't come to a decision, you'll get your ass handed to you. About all
you'll do with it is occasionally keep your healer on standby if you smell a strong attack
coming soon. Final Fantasy 9 uses this system, and besides a select few bosses where you have to
wait a little while after attacking so you don't trigger a counterattack, it's hard to say that
it even uses the ATB gauge effectively. It mostly serves as an evolution of traditional turn-based
combat, which is fine enough for what it is.
Now, Chrono Trigger didn't invent the ATB gauge,
but it certainly knew how to best utilize it. Your first group of enemies and set of abilities
illustrate this the best. Crono can either attack normally or use his cyclone ability at the
cost of MP. Cyclone can hit multiple enemies, but they have to be close enough for it to trigger
correctly. If done correctly, you can save your MP and get off a powerful attack on multiple foes. It
can end the fight more efficiently than if you had just attacked everything normally. This becomes
a crucial skill later in the game when enemies and bosses get more involved and you're juggling
other party members with unique location-based abilities of their own. You'll soon add Lucca
to your group, who has the ability Flamethrower, attacking enemies in a direct line. Her physical
ranged attack will also turn into a weaker melee attack if the enemies get too close. This
is turned on its head by a robot at the Millennial Faire, who will counterattack
if you attack him when he's too close.
Each and every enemy is unique in this way: some
of them can only be damaged by a specific element; some of them can't be damaged by physical attacks;
some of them need to be hit with a certain type of magic for their defenses to be lowered; some
of them change their defenses after being hit with a physical or magic attack; some of them
counterattack when they're close to another enemy; the list goes on. While some of these are fairly
typical, it's the sheer variety that impresses me. Rarely will you find a new enemy that only serves
to be an experience sponge, there is almost always something more going on behind the scenes that's
meant to prepare you for a future boss fight. I'm sure we've all eventually fallen into that classic
RPG rhythm of spamming our most powerful screen nukes until the enemy disintegrates. By the time
I reached the Ocean Palace, I had almost fallen into this rhythm, but the colored scouters stopped
that in its tracks. They absorb any element that isn't their own, and immediately counter-attack
if you choose wrong. A mistimed high level magic nuke will suddenly see the party completely
wiped out if you aren't careful. Instead, maybe you can wait for a well-timed Falcon Strike
with Ayla and Crono, or a well-timed Flamethrower with Lucca. They're usually placed alongside Mages
that can lock your usage of items and abilities, potentially forcing you to think outside the box
since you won't have access to your magic.
The frequency of enemy types, paired with the
brevity of each new area, ensures the player will have something interesting to think about in
battle at all times. Boss fights take advantage of this the most, as you'd expect. Your first boss
fight against Yakra is meant to teach you more about proximity. If you attack him when he's
too far away, he'll launch a somewhat deadly counterattack, meaning you'll need to wait until
he's close to one of the characters before you attack. Timing it correctly can be surprisingly
tricky, and all the while the boss can throw out attacks whenever he wants. It's even helpful to
have one of your more inactive characters revert to a support role and purposefully skip their
turns so that you can heal during dangerous situations. Doing that has its strengths and
weaknesses, though: you'll be more prepared in case of emergency, but you'll be doing less damage
to the boss. Some bosses punish the player for not paying enough attention. The Guardian cannot be
attacked until its two pods have been taken care of, at which point it will count down from 5 until
they're restored. If you attack the body before taking out the pods, they will counter-attack
with Delta Force, a very powerful triple tech that can do a number on your party at that point
in the adventure. If you get a little too greedy during that countdown, and find yourself locked
into attacking as soon as his pods show back up, you'll be in for a world of hurt. You can't
cancel any of your actions once submitted, further encouraging the player to take their time and
plan out their moves. Not too much time, though, or the boss's attacks will overwhelm you.
Nizbel's defenses will only be lowered once you use electricity on it, but he will discharge
that electricity soon after, dealing a lot of damage back at you. To make the most of that
small window of opportunity, you'll have to make sure that the rest of your party is ready to both
dish out their strongest attacks and withstand the incoming discharge. Often their gimmicks will be
foreshadowed by other enemies in their dungeon, or by NPCs throughout the world. Nizbel is situated
in a dungeon with a lot of Reptites, who are weak to electricity, so it's almost a no-brainer. An
NPC will inform you about cancelling out cyclones with wind slashes, which will clue you into the
best method to defeat Masa and Mune. Even if you never come across this NPC, though, the worst
you'll have is a powerful boss, and you might even happen across the solution accidentally. It's
the same with the Golem Twins, who can copy your attacks and throw a more powerful version back
at you. You can put them both to sleep, one of the only boss fights where sleep has any effect
whatsoever. It'll lighten the load so you only have to face one at a time. I didn't know this, so
I remember struggling against this one a fair bit on my first playthrough, but it wasn't because I
was under leveled or underprepared: it was simply because I kept rushing headlong into danger
too frequently. I wouldn't really think about what my last attack was that they may have copied,
which bit me in the ass on more than one occasion. Simply knowing that I could maneuver my way out
with a better strategy feels so much better than realizing I might just have to grind instead.
This happened to me during the final form of Lavos. I was around level 50, I had done
everything you could possibly do sidequest-wise, and I had the best equipment you could possibly
forge. I was getting my ass handed to me over and over and over again. Lavos' core is accompanied by
two pods. One pod will heal the core every turn, the core will unleash some truly devastating
attacks depending on the time period it summons, and the right pod manages their defenses and will
revive the other pod and core if they happen to be destroyed. You'd think you're supposed to take
out the core, but that only really delays the inevitable. It's hard enough to down the core with
the left pod healing it every turn, but it's even harder since taking out the core when the left pod
is active will trigger a powerful counter. What you're really supposed to do is take out the left
pod, wait for the right pod to lower its defenses, and then slam the right pod with your most
powerful abilities. Unfortunately, you're basically forced to contend with the core's magic
attacks, which run the gambit of terrible effects: halving your HP, triggering a random status
effect, dealing potentially one-shot magic or physical damage, and inflicting slow. Lavos'
core is designed so that you'll struggle no matter which party setup you roll with. His
physical and magical AOE attacks will end up killing anyone that doesn't resist them. If you
have Crono, Lucca, and Marle, two of them will die instantly to his physical attack, and one
of them will die instantly to the magic attack. There's no weaseling your way out of it (besides
maybe grinding your way up to an unhealthy level); however, what I find important here is that I
didn't actually need to grind. I was banging my head against the wall because I would always get
so close to the end before wiping. I knew that if I just optimized my strategy, made quicker
decisions, and kept my party healthy, I'd be able to defeat him with my mental might. Lo and
behold, I eventually did it without grinding.
It's incredible to me that each and every boss is
unique in that way, and it makes them so much more memorable as a result. Of course, the standout
example for me will always be Magus. In fact, his entire castle is a highlight of the adventure.
Jugglers dot the castle and foreshadow Magus' strategy early on. You have to keep switching up
what you throw at them since they'll shift their guard reactively. Magic attacks will raise their
magic defense, and physical attacks will raise their physical defense. Slash and Flea are
physical-based and magic-based respectively. Everything in the castle pushes you toward mixing
your physical and magical attacks when called for, preparing you for your fight… against Magus.
Backed by one of the best tracks in the entire game, he will test your mettle. Any attack thrown
at him will be immediately countered and change his barrier stance to another element. He will be
weak to whatever element his barrier is currently made out of. If you don't have access to that
element, a physical attack will also change his barrier. It's a fairly simple juggle between his
shifting barriers and your ability to keep the party alive. His second phase is quite different,
though. He will cast aside his defenses to charge up for an incredibly powerful magic attack. You'll
have to unleash everything you got as quickly as you can, while making sure to keep at least one
of your party members active so they can heal when needed. No matter what party setup you throw at
him, you'll have an engaging fight. Using Crono, Lucca, and Marle will make the first
phase a lot easier to deal with; however, using Frog and Robo could potentially make his
second phase less dangerous since their damage potential is a lot higher. It's really just up
to you, and the castle itself has trained you to be ready for basically anything, so his tactics
don't feel out of place in the slightest.
No character feels useless, and I mean that
wholeheartedly. Usually a couple characters will fall by the wayside when I'm playing an RPG
with such a large playable cast. Rico and Maria from Xenogears, Haru from Persona 5, Sharla
from Xenoblade Chronicles, Carol from Tales of Vesperia. It could be due to any number
of things: I'm not feeling their playstyle, or I don't like them as a character, or I've been
rolling with a team of all-stars for so long that I see no real reason to switch things up. I
actually appreciate when games force you to use different characters. Final Fantasy 9's first half
is constantly switching between different party makeups, and gives you a lot of time to appreciate
everyone's strengths and weaknesses before you're allowed to pick between them. Even then, though,
a few are bound to slip through the cracks. Chrono Trigger avoids this by making every single
character, and thus every single team combination, effective in some way. Crono is your speedy
swordsman, Lucca is your most powerful magic user, Marle is your all-star support, Frog is your
mixed attacker and healer, Robo is your tank, Ayla is your strongest physical attacker, and
Magus is your most versatile magic user. Each have their strengths and weaknesses, but none
overshadow the other. You never really need to know what team will be the best for any given
encounter because each combination will work, provided you know what you're doing. Crono and
Marle as a team-up is potentially devastating since Marle has Haste, and since Crono has a
very high speed stat already, the two work very well together for speedy turns. Marle can keep
him alive while he goes to town with moderately powerful attacks back-to-back. The question is,
though: who will be your third wheel? Frog is a safe bet, since his Heal ability covers everyone,
and he has some relatively powerful team-up moves with Crono. You won't be dealing too much
damage, even with the dual techs between them, but your party is more likely to survive.
Maybe you want more damage output, though: in that case, Lucca is by far the best choice. While this
leaves Marle as the only dedicated healer, with a single-target healing ability, the potential
damage output here is frankly ridiculous. If Marle can Haste the entire party, leaving Crono
on temporary healing duty, a high level Antipode Bomb will absolutely destroy anything you come
up against. It will cost a lot of combined MP, but if Crono can keep everyone mostly healthy,
it shouldn't be too difficult. Better yet, if you were to replace Crono with Robo, you'd
have a more durable healer with more reliable healing options. He might not get his turn quite
as quickly, or deal as much damage, but he's also an inherently safer pick. You could randomize a
team layout and still find a way to make it work for you. Magus doesn't mix with any of the other
characters, that's kinda his shtick, but he makes up for that with his sheer coverage and decent
individual power. He has every magic element and can use the AOE attack variants of those
elements, on top of having the strongest shadow magic in the game. If you put Ayla and Crono
in there for their dual techs and the frankly insane physical output their combined power can
bring to the table, you've basically covered all your offensive bases. You might die more easily
without a dedicated healer, but if your aim is to hit hard and fast, that hardly matters. Every
team works for every boss or enemy, making it so much easier to experiment without worry.
Each dungeon will require something different from the player, and will never overstay their
welcome. This extends to the level design as well. You'll be hopping from place to place
at a rapid pace, and dungeon mechanics will often change with that pace. Some of them have
holes in the ground you have to jump through to reach a lower level; some of them have
light puzzle solving standing in your way; some of them even require precise movement like
Ozzie's trap section. I guess in a general sense, precise movement is necessary throughout the
game. While some enemy encounters are required, there are plenty of enemies that can be avoided if
you can dodge them. Unlike the Earthbound method, where every enemy will just charge at you, making
it nearly impossible to avoid them, each enemy has a set pattern they adhere to. You'll be asked
to get in between their run cycle or dodge their thrusts to avoid battling them altogether.
Not only that, but triggering a battle is done seamlessly with absolutely no exceptions. Touch
an enemy and you'll instantly be in a battle with them. Yeah, maybe it's a small touch, but it's a
flourish that most other JRPGs can't flaunt. Being able to see what you're getting into, and giving
each encounter a goofy initiation skit, like a ninja bird waking up one of his comrades, gives
each encounter a touch more personality. Removing random encounters also helps to encourage thorough
exploration of both the World Map and the various dungeons, since you won't have to fear being
constantly interrupted. I don't think I would have been as eager to travel to far off towns
or explore a hidden dungeon room for treasure if every ten seconds the screen shook and you were
forced into a battle. Sure, you'll occasionally be forced into a required battle more than once
while backtracking, but that's a minor annoyance at best, and enemies thankfully don't respawn on
the same screen like they do in Earthbound.
It's just a wonderfully paced adventure that
respects the player's time and attention span. I never felt like I had to grind since the required
battles were placed frequently enough to gain a steady amount of experience. Plus, your experience
pool and your TP pool are entirely separate, meaning that required battles really only exist as
a formality to get your stats where they need to be. TP will dictate that you learn new abilities
at a steady enough rate alongside your levels. I mentioned before that it encourages you to
switch out your party often, but it's also a clever way of developing the bonds between them
through gameplay. Frog can plunge the Masamune straight into an enemy's skull, and Crono will
follow up by striking the sword with lightning. This tech says a little bit about how they play
off of each other. It's an almost unspoken battle connection, where Crono can pick up on Frog's cue
to strike the sword. In another insane tech, Crono will strike Ayla with lightning, powering her
up as she tackles a nearby enemy. It says a lot about their trust in one another that Ayla would
be willing to let Crono strike her with lightning. It's a subtle touch, I know, but that's why I love
the TP system so much, beyond just the surface level applications. There are so many unique
abilities, and though some of them do feel like they accomplish similar things, you'll still find
yourself using them all anyway when you switch out characters. Plus, abilities like the Fire
Sword and Ice Sword are differentiated by their elemental affinity, and thus could be more useful
against enemies that are weak to fire or water.
Now, this does run the risk of making everything
too easy, and I will admit that there are a few instances where I can feel that lack of challenge
bleeding through. There are a few unremarkable enemy types that can be brute forced without much
issue, and the abundance of shelters and other healing items can often eliminate the tension of
moment to moment enemy fights. For the most part, though, I found the game to be consistently
challenging and engaging. Several of the bosses, like Magus and the Golem Twins, gave me game
overs more times than I'd care to admit; and even the ones that didn't sometimes came dangerously
close. I only managed to best them after I paid close attention and developed a sound strategy.
Really, even if you kill every boss on your first try in an RPG, as long as you had to seriously
think your way out of it, the challenge threshold has already been met. In fact, it can sometimes
feel more frustrating if you're up against a wall and eventually cave because you're probably just
too low leveled. I would take a generally easier RPG over a frustrating one anyday. Plus, my mind
was never stuck on the challenge level because it had so many other things for me to focus on.
It's a damn solid set of mechanics, levels, and enemies for a JRPG.
--
Chrono Trigger is a masterpiece. There, I said it.
It's worthy of all its accolades and then some. To be honest, I'm still a little shocked. There was a
game sitting right under my nose that refined the JRPG formula to such an absurd degree that it is
still unmatched. Games like Octopath Traveler and Bravely Default have experimented with fresh
new gameplay systems and story structures; the Persona games mixed in dating sim elements and
Pokémon-esque battle mechanics; and the Mario RPGs have added more interactive elements to turn-based
combat and world traversal. But none of them can sully Chrono Trigger's triumphant stature. Not
because it was revolutionary, not because it was influential, and not because it deserves
special treatment: it's a masterpiece because it's an experience that I flat out can't get
anywhere else. I can't get a cast of unorthodox protagonists, a wacky time travel premise,
an organic sense of world exploration through several different eras, consistently interesting
enemy and boss design that feed into each other, an expression of camaraderie through the battle
and progression systems, and an array of choices that set up a multitude of different endings
and rearrange the world in subtle ways. Most importantly, while I might be able to get one or
two of those things in another game, I can never get them all. Chrono Trigger isn't a game that's
better than the sum of its parts: the game is its parts. You can't remove much of anything from it,
and for me: that is the mark of a true masterwork. There's simply nothing else like it, and I find
that to be the most worthy of celebration.
