Final Fantasy VII: the real enemy is us

It all begins and ends

Opening scene. A young woman observes ancient elements on the wall, holding a basket of flowers. The camera pans away, revealing her to be in a crowded street of cars and other vehicles. As the view widens, we can see that we’re in a gigantic, sprawling city of pipes, buildings and a central tower billowing green and white smoke. You’ll probably recognize it: we’re in the opening cinematic of Final Fantasy VII, 1997.

The title appears on screen, with the city in the background, allowing us to immerse ourselves in this circular architecture. It’s a shape that will recur at many moments, evoking the cycle that continues, the circle that is broken to escape from a paradigm, the danger that comes from the sky.

The rest of this first cinematic already upsets the balance. The frequency of the images, shifting from a quasi-fixed view then slowly descending towards the city, to a frenetically rolling train, with close-ups of its wheels and the mechanisms driving it, breaks the pre-established rhythm. The fact that the first image of this train is a close-up of its wheels in motion, a round element echoing the shape of the city, is not insignificant – quite the contrary. The second image, with the front of the train lighting up to the left, is far from accidental: in artistic composition, in comics, cinema and all the visual arts, looking to the left can be interpreted as looking back to the past. This train, a technological element if ever there was one, representing both technical progress and the pollution and destruction of nature caused by its means of combustion, moves towards the past from the very first minutes of the game. It represents what the game will gradually distill down to strong images and battles, more or less subtle symbolism and a strong message about ecology and the preservation of the planet. This train is the end of a world that still ignores itself, hurtling towards a past that’s long gone. It’s also a recurring theme throughout the game, with Barret referring to it on numerous occasions, using the train as a metaphor for perseverance and his commitment to the planet and his friends.

The fact that the images of this train are superimposed on those of the city is also significant: in a way, this sequence links the two elements, especially as the image advances towards the central tower before veering off course and plunging towards a district just behind it. Choosing to move the camera in front of the Mako tower, in front of what it doesn’t yet represent (but which you’ll understand after a few minutes of play), already gives you an enormous amount of information about what’s going to happen, about the stakes of Final Fantasy VII, about the construction of both its story and its characters.

We’ll pass over the train inscription, this “ムカ百式九” that seems to evoke the make or location of the vehicle. After all, the image only takes a very short time, before plunging into the neighborhood where our story is about to unfold, on the platform of that same freshly arrived train. The first thing you notice on the platform are the two silhouettes in red coats, in stark contrast to the rest of the scenery. The contrast is between the dark green, gray and brown surroundings and the two red figures. In fact, it’s their clothes that we see first, before we can even make out the gray weapon at their side, which almost blends in with the rest of the scenery. Several characters exit the train, disabling the guards before fleeing the platform.

We won’t go on to analyze all the game’s cinematics, although there’s a lot to be said for that. We could, for example, mention the colorimetric differences in the Avalanche group’s first appearance: saturated hues, visual elements that stand out from the rest of the scenery or the characters present.

What is apparent here is the presence of all the elements needed to understand the plot. The cinematic opens with Aerith (even if we don’t yet know her name) and her offbeat attitude to her surroundings: with her basket of flowers and her interest in an ancient fresco, she represents nature. The sequence of shots – front view, then low-angle so that the camera is “run over” by the cars, then plunging to prolong the effect of being crushed in the immensity of the city – aims to suffocate the viewer, to make her feel the dominance of the city, of the technology it represents. The use of the color red, whether for Aerith’s dress or for the guards’ overalls, has a strong connotation: in Japan, red is an important color, representing the sacred (and thus here the shift between sacred nature and the technology that becomes it), but also self-sacrifice (is Aerith, in red, announcing other events?). In a much more down-to-earth vein, the reappearance of red at the end of the cinematics also reminds us of the presence of the woman we saw at the very beginning, whom the importance and length of the images of the city and the train have almost made us forget.

Meanwhile, in another world…

1997 is a strange year. A year in which two events in two seemingly opposite environments collide, yet resonate with each other. First, in January, with the release of Final Fantasy VII. And in December of the same year, in Kyoto, with COP3 (now known as COP21), a milestone that saw the signing of the Kyoto Protocol, aimed at reducing emissions of six greenhouse gases by at least 5% below 1990 levels between 2008 and 2012. Given that the Final Fantasy VII project began as early as 1994, it’s interesting to note the resonance of these two events, in the same year, on subjects that echo each other.

Of course, one might think that these were mere coincidences. 1995, a year after the FF7 project began, a report on global warming led to the summit and the creation of the Protocol. This document states that “the weight of evidence suggests a detectable influence of human activity on global climate”. But even if this is partly coincidental, it is still indicative of a global concern: that of a planet that is suffocating, suffocated by human activity, worn down to its very core. That of our Earth, not specifically Midgard.

Coincidences are everywhere. But this very real concern is beginning to emerge in everyone’s minds: global warming and the climate crisis are very real, and scientists are warning, demonstrating and trying to find solutions. Despite the signing of the Kyoto Protocol, they are often little heard in the media, or the impact of their words is lessened by other news, debatable speaking times, etc. With this in mind, isn’t it logical to play, for the duration of an adventure, the role of self-assumed eco-terrorists who want only one thing: to free the planet from the grip of humans, to allow it to breathe again, to live in harmony?

AVALANCHE and Gaia

Final Fantasy VII is, of course, the story of Cloud, but also and above all that of AVALANCHE, a group presented as resistance fighters, protectors of the planet, intent on destroying Shinra, the company responsible for exploiting Mako energy, the planet’s lifeblood. Initially, the game tells you a story: that of a society stifled by a technology used for unjust purposes, putting the poorest in the hot seat, leading to social and financial disparities. As is often the case in dystopian settings, the protagonists are those who will resist, fight, try to escape or change the existing model for greater equity. Here, in addition to class revolt, there’s an additional stratum, directly visible and more important than any revolutionary endeavor: saving the planet.

And this is clear from the very first second of the game: you land on a guarded loading dock, with the aim of destroying/stopping/neutralizing a mako power plant. The very term “power plant” is loaded with meaning: there’s no doubt that the link with other, very “Terran” types of power plant is in everyone’s mind. The following references also have echoes: mako energy, which is in fact the energy of the dead, references to the river of life…

The game draws a parallel between nature and technology, the enslavement and exploitation of the planet, which is alive and defenseless. This echoes a real theory, the Gaia Hypothesis, by climatologist James Lovelock, published in 1979 in The Earth is a Living Being, The Gaia Hypothesis. This controversial and much-discussed hypothesis states that the planet is a kind of living super-organism (named Gaia after the Greek goddess personifying the Earth). While it would take a long time to explain the Gaia hypothesis and what it implies for the Earth, it was presented and represented in numerous cultural objects following its publication, including Final Fantasy VII. In the game, the cycle of life, the personification of the planet as a complex organism suffering from Shinra exploitation and other recurring themes are directly linked to the Gaia hypothesis. And Final Fantasy VII is far from alone, since the theory’s cultural impact includes novels by Asimov and Scott Card, and films by Shyamalan and James Cameron.

Should we fight to save the planet? To save ourselves?

In many ways, Final Fantasy VII raises questions: should we fight, adopt techniques akin to urban guerrilla warfare, play (eco)terrorists to raise players’ awareness? Is it “politically correct” to put forward revolutionary profiles to raise awareness of the planet’s fate? If Final Fantasy VII is questioning in some ways, in others the message is clear: play, explore, question. After all, we’re not playing Barret, the revolutionary leader of AVALANCHE. Instead, we play the role of Cloud, an ex-SOLDAT turned mercenary who, in a way, also discovers what lies behind the actions of his former employers. The choice of shifting the gaze, of giving the player the role of “discoverer” of certain events, of giving him the opportunity to speak out in front of his screen, is far more revealing and effective than proposing that he play the role of a protagonist already convinced of his fight.

This brings us back to what we said about revolutions in video games: let the player discover and propose, let him decide what he wants for the future, and perhaps encourage him to think beyond the boundaries of his screen. As we saw at the start of this article, even the mise-en-scène reflects this technological crush, this oppression. The images, without necessarily being explained with text, give us these diffuse but very present impressions that something is not quite right. The text, the imagery of AVALANCHE, then confirms this.

But do we even have the necessary hindsight to analyze the relevance of the game’s purpose? The answer is simple: of course. Because the subject is more topical than ever in 2020, when Final Fantasy VII Remake is released, and even today, the IPCC reports are alarming, their word is not being heard, and governments are stagnating or struggling to take the necessary decisions. While the Gaia hypothesis is widely debated and contested by the scientific community, the result is unfortunately the same: we are suffocating and slowly cooking the consequences of global warming. Newspapers even echo this irony: VICE headlines, in 2019, “ Final Fantasy VII ‘s ecological irony still holds in 2019”; Usbek & Rica, in April 2020, “Eco-terrorism, genetic manipulation: a look back at Final Fantasy 7”; in April 2019, Le Monde asks “Can video games raise awareness of the ecological cause?” using FF7  as an example; and that’s just a sample.

Proof that the game and its message have had a lasting impact, beyond rekindling debate with the release of the remake.

What’s next?

Final Fantasy VII is one of those cult titles that we know because we’ve played it, perhaps seen the films, read the novels, or simply discovered through discussions here and there about ecology, video games and titles that have left their mark. It’s perhaps because of this special status as a “cult game” that its message is so important. But it’s above all thanks to the way it’s written, to the various side-steps the game pushes us to take and takes itself, in the imagery it deploys or simply in its subtle use of visual references, that it draws all its impact.

Today, perhaps even more than ever, the representation of a group of eco-terrorists that we don’t demonize, that we follow throughout, that we accompany and whose success we wish, as a player, is important: it allows us to question and make us think.

After all… ” Someone has to protect this child, this planet.” (Cid)

Sources

• Horizons Climatiques – Rencontre avec 9 scientifiques du GIEC, d’Iris-Amata Dion et Xavier Henrion chez Glénat
• Wikipédia : https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypoth%C3%A8se_Ga%C3%AFa 
• VICE : https://www.vice.com/fr/article/9kx557/lecologisme-provocateur-de-final-fantasy-vii-sonne-mieux-que-jamais-en-2019 
• Le Monde : https://www.lemonde.fr/pixels/article/2019/04/01/les-jeux-video-peuvent-il-sensibiliser-a-la-cause-ecologique_5444352_4408996.html