Octopath Traveler: A 21st Century jRPG for 21st Century Problems
Most of what I write is trying talk about video games beyond simple summations of lore and character relationships, and really think about them as a storytelling medium. Often times the stories of video games end up being very broad, both because they tend to be strongly inspired by other stories (not unlike the works of George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, or others of their generation) and because most of the creative energy has to go into setting and mechanics design necessitating stories that can be readily flexed around them. The writing of most games will tend to have subplots that rise from the particulars of each locale in the game, then apply a larger thesis statement or theme to them to nudge how they turn out… or it just looks like that because I’m trying to divine that larger thematic statement out of the plot. Some games very definitely do have such things (the Tales series labels each game as “The [theme] RPG”, and any given Final Fantasy game will have a clearly stated main idea), but it can be hard to tell with many.
Octopath Traveler meanwhile can be summed up with a single central theme (it’s a single word in fact), but that theme communicates an entire host of concepts and an overall life philosophy, and rather than simply applying the theme to a bunch of unrelated stories, each Traveler in the game has a clear story arc expressing particular facets of the theme. Where most of the games I talk about use emotional beats between characters to communicate theme, Octopath draws from history or even current events, adapts them to fit its setting, and then has one of the characters learn how to cope with those events. The devotion to topicality is especially striking; I’m sure there’s historical examples of unethical pharmacists who jack up the prices on life-saving medicine to gouge the rich (and, well, good luck everyone else), hell if I remembered them and not the world’s most punchable man Martin Shkreli.
Heck, let’s go ahead and just talk about each of the Travelers, highlight aspects of their story that relate directly to theme, and once it’s strikingly obvious name the thing we’re talking about.
Ophelia, woman of the church, who walks the land healing the hearts of people whilst lighting the torches keeping the peace with god’s first flame. She was orphaned as a child, and in the trauma afterward felt she was somehow less than human, a fake, undeserving of the family who took her in and the position in the church they trained her for. Recovering from that required her to take to heart a lesson in how people had to treat one another; either everyone deserves to be happy or no one does. Helping one another to learn and grow and make amends is the only way to live, and the greatest of sins is using people’s deepest wounds to hook them in and use them to further your own ends.
Also she defeats a cult leader who used a self-serving religion to pacify and exploit an entire village.
Cyrus, the teacher, dedicated to knowledge not merely for its own sake, but to pass it through the generations, in hopes that each of his students will not merely learn all he knows but build upon it and forge an ever-brighter path forward for humanity. Simultaneously the most brilliant mind of his generation and largely unconcerned with this fact, which in some ways is the source of his problems since he’s also unaware the only reason his radical ideas are tolerated by the hierarchies he belongs to is this same brilliance. Ultimately he presses ever onward, always trying to break down the puzzles before him in a way he can pass on before all else.
Also he uproots the corrupt and selfish hoarding of knowledge by defeating the headmaster of the academy and his assistant.
Tressa, the merchant, who can assess not merely the value of objects but their value to people. She journeys for the thrill of discovering the world and seeing herself the many treasures and cultures she’s learned about through trade, but at each turn she finds herself put off by the pursuit of profit over learning about people and finding ways to give them what they want and need, not merely selling what she already has at the best price she can get. She ultimately wins a contest for an utterly preposterous 1 Billion Leaves, and immediately has it placed in escrow until such time as she devises a good use for it. Even allowing that leaves are probably thought of as yen, not US dollars, her rejection of immediate wealth until she has use for it is very telling.
Also she chases a landlord out of town because “You cheat your workers out of their hard-earned money and monopolize their profits! If anyone’s the swindler here it’s you!”
Olberic, the unbending blade of Hornburg, knight of a fallen kingdom, a man whose entire purpose in life crumbled after the betrayal of one he counted his dearest friend. Olberic drifts through life, trying to be useful to those around him and make his way, until he finds a lead on locating the man who betrayed him. He pursues that lead, increasingly uncertain if he seeks revenge, until at last they cross swords… and he forgives him. His friend had lost everything and turned his heart bitter long before coming to Hornburg, and having gotten his revenge, found himself just as empty as Olberic. In reaching this point Olberic had helped many others, a blade to stand between the monsters of the world and innocent lives, and concludes his angst was caused by serving too narrowly: the world and all its people must be his liege.
Also it turns out the fall of Hornburg was engineered by a man who went on to become a fascistic dictator maintaining power through public execution of “criminals”, which after a few years had become “we’ll make up crimes to make sure there’s always someone to execute as a display of power”. We bring utter ruin to his fiefdom and watch as he kills himself to apparently deny us the win.
Primrose, the dancer… which as might be expected in a medieval-ish, fantastical setting is also synonymous with sex worker. Unlike nearly any other video game depiction of the same, Octopath does not shy away from the nature of such work and the abuse usually heaped upon those doing it. Indeed, no small part of the first chapter is Primrose removing herself from her ‘employment’ and the challenges she faces doing so, showing briefly the means by which her boss maintains his control over his stable via favoritism and the accompanying backbiting, eagerness to throw others under the bus, and ultimately violence towards those who won’t back down to simple peer pressure.
Also the rest of her quest is systematically taking blood revenge against slavers and criminals for the murder of her father, including a sometime lover who seemingly was immortal and groomed her specifically so he could betray and manipulate her in that manner.
Alfyn, humble apothecary, bringing comfort and healing to all he meets. As the most straightforward of the travelers, it’s unsurprising his chapters also spell out their theme: no one can determine who deserves to live or die, because everyone deserves a chance to make their lives worthwhile. Even if he might struggle with the possibility that someone he heals will go on to do evil, there is every possibility that such an encounter will set someone on the path to helping others just as having his own life saved by a traveling apothecary set him on his own journey in time.
Also the aforementioned drubbing of fantasy Martin Shkreli happens in Alfyn’s second chapter.
Therion, a man who steals both to survive and for his own ego, seems most at odds with the rest; indeed he was the one that made me question if I was reading too much into things. But the way his story plays out is unusual for what could be summarized as “a power of friendship plot in a jRPG”. Therion’s arc is all about learning to trust and rely on others again after being deeply betrayed by someone he thought a friend and mentor during their own rise to power. He isn’t merely drawing on the bonds of friendship to slay god or some greater demon, but very specifically healing from trauma born of trust and friendship. And he does so not for power or because having friends feels good (not that this is untrue within his story), but because he must, because no matter how skilled he is he cannot accomplish his goals and change the world around him for the better alone. Only through the efforts of many can the wheels of progress turn.
Also he decapitates a literal kleptocracy.
H’aanit, the huntress, she who walks just outside society, keeping others at arm’s length while protecting them from lurking horrors. While H’aanit is someone who can only be sociable in small doses and needs a good deal of solitude, her dedication to serving society and protecting others in her own way, via the hunt, is absolute. She does so by embracing her own culture, and preserving the old ways of the hunt from her distant village which only occasionally intersects the broader world. Unlike the other characters none of her chapters have that bonus “topical reference!” I’ve been doing unfortunately, but honestly the “oft-forgotten village of people preserving their ancient culture who utilize skills not known to broader society” is so easily read as indigenous cultures maintaining their identities while still interacting with the cultures around them that her main story touches on it well enough.
Taken together, especially with Tressa’s story, it’s not an exaggeration to say the different stories add up to a primer and exploration of socialism. An emphasis on using power and privilege to defend the downtrodden and unseat corrupt hierarchies, explicit appeals to the inherent value of human life and rejection of the idea that some people are more ‘deserving’ than others, and the supposed capitalist delivering the most overt anti-capitalist message in her second chapter are all unmistakable and consistent signs. Each character takes a different aspect of socialism and explores some of the virtues and conflicts inherent to it, presenting a fairy complete examination of the basic concepts. Of course, there’s no use of terminology or theory here, but as a story it presents the ideas in a way that creates drama and suits each character, which frankly is something leftist material needs a lot more of.
But then, socialism has a lot of potential to be executed or discussed in degrees. The Travelers each embody a form of opposition to exploitation and a different reason and method to work with others to create a better society, but those are more the philosophical underpinnings of socialism and the specific praxis they employ. There’re a lot of different schools, and in truth I’m not learned enough in any of them in specific to positively identify if Octopath is specifically trying to espouse or affiliate with any particular one of them. But I do think it’s suggestive of a more radical form of socialism than the fairly basic approach taken here suggest.
Because while the game comments very little on the role of the more benign rulers you encounter, never making any direct contrast between the despotism seen in Olberic’s path against the king Cyrus serves for example, there is one hierarchy that’s implied to be explicitly immoral and untenable.
Let’s talk about God.
While rarely elevated beyond the level of background information or a few anecdotes of various traditions within the game, there does seem to be a fairly consistent mythology behind Octopath’s setting. The realm pays tribute to Twelve Gods, whilst fearing a thirteenth, Galdera. Galdera is cast as the god of misery and the underworld, while each of the others corresponds to the twelve jobs in the game. The four representing the “advanced” jobs seem to be purely warriors, governing physical prowess, the power of magic, and divination, while the other eight correspond to each of our eight heroes. Due to the nature of the job system and attaining access to secondary jobs from Shrines, we can safely say these gods are tangible beings that, at one point, actively lived in the world and have since limited themselves to granting wisdom and other minor blessings to mortals. The other main story about them told throughout the game is their coming together to banish Galdera, sealing him in the local equivalent to Hell, for crimes implied to be attempting to directly rule over mortal lives.
Why this was deemed unacceptable or why the gods chose to excise themselves from mortal affairs is never touched on, and all the usual reasons of free will and all that probably apply. But there’s an interesting detail in the game that makes me wonder if the idea that mortals cannot have free will while under the gaze of god wasn’t literalized in this mythology. H’aanit hunts the monster Red Eye in her story, who possesses many terrible powers but special attention is paid to his petrifying gaze. But in the scene where we see this in action, it’s not portrayed as any sort of magical skill; rather, the simple act of looking into the creatures eyes too long causes the curse to take effect.
Ultimately, Red Eye is revealed to be a failed vessel for Galdera created by his daughter Lyblac, and the new, more complete vessel revealed at the end of the game also possesses this power of petrification. And sure, a wicked god of death being able to petrify people makes sense on the surface, but it doesn’t really fit with the rest of Galdera’s MO. Increasing Galdera’s power requires sapping the life from an entire village in Ophelia’s chapter, From the Far Reaches of Hell is filled with knowledge of Life and Death, his agents and avatars are granted unnatural lifespans, and in the final battle Galdera incarnates the souls of the damned from a wall of flesh to fight on his behalf, calls forth shades of fallen foes in the prelude to battle, and consumes Lyblac and has her fight half-assimilated as part of his last stand. Galdera deals in the crafting of flesh and fate of souls, snuffing out and drawing forth life, and turning people to stone denies him all of those resources, rendering useful materials for his powers inert.
But Red Eye and Galdera’s flesh wall are not the only avatars we see of the gods. The advanced jobs have trials required to gain their power, and each of the avatars faced in these battles share an unusual design element: eye blinders. And so, what if Galdera’s petrification powers are not a specific part of his divine portfolio, but an inherent trait of all the gods? And thus, direct divine intervention in mortal affairs is unsustainable not as a choice to allow people free will, but an inevitability due to the nature of the gods making it physically impossible for them to cohabit with mortals for any length of time.
If we accept this as true, it makes a much firmer statement on how the game views hierarchy than the individual plots: when power inequity exists, it is inherently unstable, and inevitably destructive. And in Galdera’s case, where he’s deliberately seeking out to rule over and use the mortals, destructive to himself as well as them: his own nature will ultimately deprive him of the very mortals he seeks to rule and exploit. Which for a game about socialism is about right when talking about the deliberately, maliciously exploitative of the ruling classes, and the fact that even more benign members of the class must ultimately divest themselves that power or separate themselves from society for society to function goes along with that very well.
With that in mind, we can build on this supposition of divine beings as the game’s analogue to hierarchical systems to reinforce the socialist theming. Galdera operates by offering the desperate what they want but obscuring the costs of fulfilling those desires. Ophelia’s sister desperately wants to revive their father, and Galdera’s agent offers this very thing in exchange for her help, but holds back that her actions alone will not accomplish this: it will take the lives of an entire village of similarly desperate followers to fulfill her one wish, assuming such a thing was ever being seriously offered (given Galdera’s nature, it’s entirely likely he could legitimately revive the dead, albeit why follow through?). And in offering deals like this, all in service of eventually breaking his bonds and attempting to directly control the world again, Galdera seals his own fate.
These machinations are ultimately what bring the Travelers together. Ophelia, Cyrus, Olberic, and Primrose are all pulled into the plot as casualties of Lyblac’s agents. Tressa, Alfyn, and H’aanit are all at one level or another chasing after Graham Crossford, her biggest victim (he is the one who was turned into the monster Red Eye). Therion falls inbetween, trying to clean up another Lyblac-created mess. Left to their own devices, each Traveler would have done some good in the world and moved the needle towards greater justice by helping those around them. But due to Lyblac’s machinations in Galdera’s service, these people from opposite corners of the continent, each embodying the spirit and power of a different god, came together and had enough information to discover there was a shared source to their misfortunes.
And even with all the Travelers working together, Galdera might merely have been set back were he less reckless and shortsighted, as he was when originally sealed away. But instead he absorbed Lyblac as part to empower himself before battling the Travelers, meaning that when they defeated him? He had no allies remaining outside his hellish prison. Perhaps on a sufficiently long timeline some desperate, greedy folk might rediscover the correct rites to breach his prison again, but given Cyrus’ dedication to preserving that knowledge and what that knowledge could be used for, the odds are against him.
So… what do we take from this? If Galdera is an allegorical stand-in for the exploitative, shortsighted animus of Capitalism (and seeing as the game is about socialism, of course he is), what statement does this make about its nature, how to combat it, and what living well could look like? And put that way it seems obvious no doesn’t it. Capitalism is a social system that seems immortal and inevitable, and in a way that’s not untrue: the driving force of greed and exploitation are eternal in the human spirit and will always come back around in one form or another so long as they go unopposed. But in a very real sense, this specific incarnation of human wickedness is ultimately self-defeating, because it will consume and abuse its champions and allies as easily as its victims. All exploited peoples coming together, from every background and every skillset, and fighting this prime evil is the only way to do so, but must also come after mastering their own inner demons and learning how best to use their own talents in conjunction with others. And most of all, the only foundation to lasting social change you can rely on is empathy, unwavering kindness towards others, lest you fall into any number of traps along the way.
And really, that fits with Octopath’s overall aesthetic and design mandate so well doesn’t it? Taking the most basic lessons seen over and again in the genre, finding the parts that hold up, and arranging them in a new way that paints a much more solid, coherent picture than so many games that came before.
