The Derivative Tales of Arise Makes Me Fear for the Future of RPGs

A lot of Arise’s innovation comes from scrubbing it clean, making these hidden elements more apparent or bubbling the engaging content to the surface. Like XIII, Arise is a mostly linear experience—where that game was derided for its “outdooridor” level design, though, Arise has mostly been praised. I can understand this, to a degree; the locales in Arise are sumptuously designed and just open enough to provide an illusion of explorability. When examined, though, or when the story begins funneling you down connected alleys and narrow streets, it becomes obvious how hollow the world feels. The connective tissue that binds the world of Dahna feels tenuous at best, with rapidly changing biomes that make little sense without a provided lore reason for the planet’s scorched ecosystems. The type of slavery examined in each arc is also pretty thoughtless; the game begins with a brutal depiction of chattel slavery then moves towards a more anxious, Nazi-esque form of social policing, which is bookended with a rather idyllic depiction of plantation farming. But no matter the aesthetic form the slavery in Arise takes, the function is the same: intense labor is used as a means to acquire a magical resource, which makes the work the slaves are doing mostly perfunctory. With the relative smallness of each arc’s setting, the game’s adventuresome spirit feels quelled to that of a double cour seasonal anime. It’s a game that probably could have benefited greatly from an overworld map—but those are a thing of the past, and a mark of uninventive structure.

The seams truly began to show when Arise reached its second arc, however, when the game’s leaden dialogue failed to contend with the actual action happening in any meaningful way. Tales is known for its quirky, humorous interactions between its ensemble casts. There’s an attempt to do that buried within Arise, but the game’s self-serious plot always takes point in a way that undermines the potential relationships between the characters. Instead, the dynamics are delegated to rather shallow signifiers. Shionne and Alphen bicker like a married couple, but the game fails to explain why they continue to do this many hours into their alliance. Rinwell has a schoolyard crush on Law, who is an oblivious but lovable dunce, so she typically treats him with a sort of mild annoyance. The game shallowly pairs off its gender-balanced cast into neat pairs of heterosexual love interests which feels like a tired and trite way to express characters living under the thumb of colonial subjugation. It all serves to further illuminate the childish and platitudinous slave story Arise fumbles to tell.

I would have been fine with these banalities of characterization in any other Tales game. The writing in Arise, however, buckles against its desire to keep up with other RPGs of the day and its own history. Much of the structure falls into what I dub the VII Remake-ification of Tales: waypoints and fast travel, stunted “realistic” movement outside of battle, hackneyed “I spy” collectables scattered across the map (perhaps as an attempt to get you to look around at the lovingly designed environments), trivial crafting and upgrading systems that serve to give minor, undetectable buffs to very specific combat mechanics, and stagger-based combat concerned with seamless combos, chaining, and visual noise.

The willingness to abandon the spirit of Tales in favor of derivative gameplay ideas fills me with a certain despair which extends beyond just Arise. I fear the near future of the action RPG—I’m afraid VII Remake has set a blueprint of success, and the many beloved JRPG franchises that have failed to bust into the AAA sphere will follow suit, hoping to chase the lightning in a bottle found in VII Remake. In doing so, Bandai Namco has crafted a game that may well appeal to a greater audience but only alienates its loyal fanbase for the sake of homogenization. I worry they won’t be the only ones guilty of it.