The New Cynicism of Final Fantasy XVI
The following is a condensed version of "The New Cynicism of Final Fantasy XVI" by S.P. Cooper, published at Law & Liberty.
At first glance, the video game industry seems to be about as far removed from the American political situation as it is possible to be. Nevertheless, the debut of a new blockbuster title suggests something revealing about the nature of our unhealthy polity: that its dysfunction might well proceed from the cynicism which drives almost every aspect of our culture.
The video game industry has recently celebrated the release of a new numbered entry in the Final Fantasy franchise. In the past, the advent of a new Final Fantasy game would have been the occasion for unqualified excitement. But even as the YouTube influencers paid to drum up support insisted that the new title is “the best Final Fantasy game ever,” a freely-available demo, presenting the first two hours of the title, was leading more than a few players to other conclusions.
The reasons for dissatisfaction have their roots in the attitude which the developer, SquareEnix, has towards its audience. Historically, Final Fantasy games have been characterised as “JRPGs”—Japanese Role-Playing Games—typified most significantly by menu-driven combat systems of some complexity, and supplemented by storylines which pit the player’s party of anime-style characters against world-ending threats such as gods, aliens, and transnational power companies.
Outside of Japan, the genre has a smaller share of the sales market. Consequently, over the past few entries in the Final Fantasy series, SquareEnix, confident that its historic customers will buy any game with the words ‘Final Fantasy’ in the title, has distanced itself from essential JRPG gameplay in a deliberate attempt to broaden the audience of their core franchise. Instead, they have incorporated the systems of games which are more popular with North American audiences, where titles like Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto command sales that SquareEnix can only imagine in their most avaricious dreams.
Such things are familiar to audiences worldwide. There is a widespread sense that damage has been done to the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings franchises by their current caretakers, and that the owners of cultural capital have a duty to do more than chase after ever-larger profits—that they have a duty of care to the original material, and should be limited in their ability to damage beloved cultural artefacts. Audiences are tired of seeing their favourite characters and worlds eviscerated in the service of corporate greed.
What is happening with Final Fantasy XVI is happening not only in wider culture, but also within American politics. The latest entry in the Final Fantasy series seems to have abandoned its roots, casting off its extant audience in favour of a putatively larger one. Similarly, some Republicans and Democrats have abandoned the policies popular with their historical voting bases in favour of policies abhorrent to most of their supporters. These are not moves to the centre; in fact, the policies adopted seem extreme. For example, the campaign by some Democrats to “defund the police” is one which is repugnant to the vast numbers of Democrat voters. The decision to champion such policies seems perplexing until it is situated within the larger context of the new cynicism.
The new cynicism assumes that, once an audience commits to supporting something, then that audience can be trusted to remain loyal even should the object of their support betray them. In this respect, it relies upon an assumption about human nature: that people will not want to back down from a commitment to some cause and will undertake all manner of rationalisation to defend their support, even should it become clear that they have been unwise in extending that support in the first place.
Democrats are not alone in recognising and drawing upon the new cynicism. At a campaign rally in Iowa on January 23, 2016, then-candidate Donald Trump said, “I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose any voters.” The new cynicism also explains his conduct regarding both the January 6 riot at the United States Capitol and his claim that pro-life policies were the cause of 2022 mid-term election failures, for in both cases, Trump understood that his behaviour would not cost him the votes of his supporters because nothing could cost him the votes of his supporters.
The new cynicism rests upon certain assumptions about human nature in general: about our desire to lie to ourselves rather than admit that we have made a mistake in our loyalties; about our too-ready willingness to fashion our identities around causes and culture; and about our willingness to carry on along the wrong path rather than undertake the necessary effort to chart a better course.
The remedy—casting off unworthy loyalties, rejecting treacherous politicians, and voting for individuals rather than parties—will necessarily involve a climb-down now and again. But culture can be a crutch. We can pass up creations which rely on cynical assessments; and, we can demand of our politicians a commitment to their constituents under the same terms. The less cynical society that results will be far more inspiring of hope, and more open to stories and policies that respect, and pursue, the Good.
S. P. Cooper is a 2022-2023 John and Daria Berry Postdoctoral Fellow in the James Madison Program in the Princeton University Department of Politics. He is the Vice-President of the International Courtly Literature Society’s North American Branch, and he is on the advisory board of the journal Encomia.
