If you haven’t yet, it’d likely be prudent to check out the first article in this series; it provides a proper context for what you’re about to read. You may also wish to read the previous article.
Something very important to any RPG is its level of content. Games in the genre tend to be among the longest; something that has become expected by its fans. If a high-profile RPG comes out and has what most would consider to be insufficient content, you’re going to hear about it if you’re anywhere near the gaming community. Side quests, minigames, post-game content; this is all commonplace, and even expected in today’s RPGs. However, it is also important to limit the amount of content an RPG has. Too much content can completely destroy what an RPG is attempting to do, sometimes even rendering it an incoherent mess. As with everything, balance is very important.
One of the biggest pitfalls in this regard is what I call pileup. A lot of Final Fantasy games in particular have this, starting most notably with 5. You get to the end of the game and you’re greeted with a ridiculous amount of side quests to be performed for better equipment with which to tackle the final dungeon, and, were the games more challenging, they would be quite necessary because the last dungeon in a Final Fantasy game is usually a lengthy boss gauntlet. Challenge is irrelevant, however, because completionists will want to do every single thing, and why not? We bought the game for an adventure, so it is only natural that we would want to experience all of its content. Wouldn’t it be better, though, to sprinkle side quests throughout the game as you go, rather than delay the rising climax for a bunch of tasks that are grossly irrelevant to the world’s impending doom? Of course, and yet, this rarely happens. Final Fantasy 6 is hard to gauge by these merits, as its second half is almost completely non-linear, but 7 really slaps you in the face with it; the last disc is absolutely nothing, aside from the final dungeon and a plethora of side quests. When you’ve worked so hard to get to the end of a game, you don’t want to dawdle; things just got real, and you’re super excited for the climax, not to spend countless pointless hours doing something as absurd as racing and breeding mutated ostriches. Oh no, she didn’t. Oh yes, I did.
Going to the races when the world is ending is a serious sign of gambling addiction.
A problem also lies in the actual nature of these side quests, regardless of their placement. Final Fantasy 8 was a game that I enjoyed a great deal, despite its departure from tradition in many ways. The character models were cool, the mission structure was a lot of fun, and unlike most people who’ve played it, I actually rather liked Squall, at least in the first half of the game. Building things and modifying your weapons out of items you found and refining them into other items, or even spells, was an experience I found engaging and rewarding. The problem was the side quests. There are a ton of side quests in Final Fantasy 8, and most of them aren’t particularly rewarding, relevant, or even interesting. Some of them had you doing the most inane (with or without an s near the middle of the word) things for crappy rewards. There is a quest where you gather pieces of a vase for a ghost in a town you wouldn’t otherwise visit, and it’s irrelevant to any aspect of the plot. There was a quest where you run around the world map, talking to invisible points, looking for Mr. Monkey. Why would I want to do anything like this, especially when the rewards are items that are either common or unnecessary? Granted, there are some that genuinely have a fantastic payoff, like some of the best Guardian Forces (summons) in the game, but the sheer number of side quests, along with the number of items you collect for multifarious purposes, and the time you spend playing cards just make it seem like the main game and plot take a back seat to the extras. Extras are supposed to be… you know, extras; additional little things to enhance the game, not overtake it.
Mega Man X Command Mission suffers from the same problem. Even though it’s an RPG, it’s a Mega Man game, meaning that the plot is scant so as it is. I did like the idea of returning to previous areas with the ability to open new sections within them, but the lengths to which you had to go to get some of them were ridiculous. Throughout the game, you find broken mechaniloids, modeled after enemies you’ve battled. You can choose to deploy them to areas you’ve already conquered, and they’ll bring back all sorts of goodies. The problem is that it takes a while for them to return and you have absolutely no control over them; aside from picking mechaniloids with good stats, it’s entirely random what they’ll bring back. Because of this, you spend an awful lot of time on them, and it comes off seeming like nothing more than padding for a game with ten relatively short chapters and three optional super bosses. Again, the time spent pursuing optional content should not exceed that of the main content.
This entire room is for extras; the cabinet is for toys.
Regarding optional super bosses, they’re a neat challenge, but they sometimes miss the point. There are many who can be either impossible or insanely easy, depending upon what you do. Final Fantasy 5’s Omega is a perfect example of this; with a party of four level 99 members with some of the best equipment in the game and every class mastered, you can easily be wiped out in less than three rounds with most strategies. However, if you perform a very specific set of actions in the right order, he dies right away. That’s not a challenge; that’s a guide-dangit. Final Fantasy 9’s Ozma is a better example of a real intellectual challenge, since there are multiple solutions that will lead you to victory. It’s 5’s other boss, however, that puts forth an interesting little principle that is often used in RPGs. Shinryuu is much the same kind of boss in that you either perform a specific set of actions or get slaughtered in two rounds. However, unlike with beating Omega, you get a tangible reward; something more than a “look, I beat him” key item. You get what is arguably the best sword in the game (aside from the Brave Blade, depending upon how many times you’ve run from battle) with which to beat the final boss… who isn’t quite as hard as the guy you beat to get that weapon. Funny, Final Fantasy 7 does the same thing with Ruby Weapon; it’s almost impossible to beat Ruby Weapon without Knights of the Round (unless you put aside a whole day to tediously whittle down its one million HP), but you need a Gold Chocobo to get it. For completing this daunting task, you get… a Gold Chocobo. Thanks. Why not add a little bonus scene into the ending as some sort of real reward for spending so many hours of your life preparing for an optional boss?
I think the perfect example of the amount of content making or breaking a game, though is the Pokémon series. I helped my sister with Blue, I being a seasoned RPG veteran, and she having never touched one before; within two weeks, wound up going out and buying my own copies of Blue, Red, and a Link Cable, and even purchasing Yellow when it came out. Not too long ago, the rom hacking community released Pokémon Thunder Yellow, a hacked version of Yellow that allows you to catch all one hundred fifty-one Pokémon without trading; yes, the tagline is finally appropriate. I downloaded it, expecting my teenage love of the game to have been just that, but even in my late twenties, it was still just as enjoyable as it was at fifteen. Gold and Silver, however, I hated. Having to hunt both during the day and at night was a fine innovation, but days of the week, breeding, the pressure of randomly getting the right genders for said breeding, evolutions based on when it likes you enough (a hidden stat), and evolutions based upon the random generations of stats (Hitmontop) were ridiculous. Add to that the legendary dogs that can show up anywhere with a low percentage and the tease of collecting shiny Pokémon, which have an insanely low probability, and you have too much going on for any anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive, neurotic, completionist gamer geek, not that I fit into that category, of course. Oh yeah, and having to add your catches from Red, Blue, and Yellow, many of which had evolved already, was just made it worse. Had they just started over, crafting a completely new set of creatures without any of the originals, and added only a few of the innovations, it would’ve been a lot less overwhelming. I haven’t even bothered trying any generations newer than the second for this very reason; too much content ruined something I loved.
Now, contradictory as it may seem, the incredible amount of content in Rogue Galaxy is a big part of what made it such a great game. As previously mentioned, its plot is nothing worth mentioning, but you’re playing as a group of space pirates. Such a concept with such great controls and lots of action lends itself quite well to exploration. The way the optional content is presented is just that; you’re exploring the galaxy, finding bounties to hunt, parts to use in manufacturing, and countless other things available to the dedicated adventurer. Sometimes, it’s the quality of the content that makes it worth adding, and sometimes, it’s the context. Skies of Arcadia, a game about pirates in the sky, does much the same and it works well for much the same reason, despite having a competent plot. You really feel like you’re an explorer, especially when you find the different Discoveries, which make you feel like you’re back in the 16th century, exploring new lands and seeing sights never before witnessed by anyone you’ve ever known; unraveling the mysteries of the world. Some of the things you find have no value other than getting to see them, but the thrill of it all makes it an unforgettable experience.
Just one of the many beautiful wonders you’ll encounter.
SaGa Frontier takes an interesting approach to side quests. The game allows you to pick one of seven characters to be your protagonist, each of whom has a unique story. The side quests available are mostly the same for each character, but since each character’s playthrough is so radically different, that the solution to availability was to make each and every quest available almost all of the time. Being able to complete these quests whenever you want allows them to be broken up and undertaken at your pace. They’re valuable grinding tools for such a soul-crushingly difficult game, so they’re well woven into the game itself, and possess multiple levels of motivation to complete them. Lute’s scenario in particular is less than an hour in length (and about fifty-five minutes of that is the final dungeon), so you don’t have much choice but to do them all at the end with him, since there’s no real middle, but they motivate you to grind for what is likely the hardest of the seven final bosses. With Lute, you have little choice but to perform them when the games wants you to do so, but for the other characters, it’s a nice compromise.
Now, there are two great examples of RPGs with comparatively little content that perfectly exemplify why such a thing can be positive: Final Fantasy Mystic Quest and Paper Mario. I know that Final Fantasy Mystic Quest is widely regarded as a joke among the gaming community, particularly among Final Fantasy fans, but I thought it was a great experience. Yes, it can be challenging if you don’t cheat against the final boss, and the little bits of action and puzzle solving made the dungeons more engaging than those of the typical RPG. At any rate, what I thought was really neat about it was the inventory. Every single item, weapon, armor, and spell in the game had its own little box, so you could tell exactly how many there were, and everything was packed into a nice, succinct little bundle. You could easily monitor your progress without a walkthrough, and that made it rewarding to meet each benchmark, and provoked a sense of wonder at what would go in any given empty slot.
Such a beautiful, concise, structured inventory; I love it!
Paper Mario did much the same thing, but most people don’t realize it, because it was more subtle. You had a certain number of certain items, most badges could only be acquired once, and became permanent additions to your collection, and if you’re going for perfect completion, everything falls into place rather nicely. The game is sufficiently lengthy, but the content is scant relative even to its spiritual predecessor, Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars. By contrast, Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door, the next game in the series, added much more content. There were no limits to rare items (such as Ultra Shrooms) used in recipes (you could always get more), and several badges could not only be acquired in limitless quantities, but could also be bought and sold; getting every copy of every single thing was no longer possible. Even the stats expanded greatly beyond reasonable caps as compared to its predecessor. Don’t get me wrong; I loved them both, but what made the original so beloved and timeless was the aforementioned concept, which I like to call the Paper Mario Principle, a term you likely know me to have used before. For example, Knight Quest is a game I’d say has the Paper Mario Principle; it has a very small in-game world, only a few quests, and a total of four swords and four armors, but its small size gives it a very cozy feel. So, when well organized and thought out, a small amount of content can be quite pleasant.
Parasite Eve is an exception to this idea. It is a relatively short game, and there isn’t much content to it, but it seems lacking in that department. Sure, it’s a great Horror experience, but it seems a bit empty as far as content is concerned. I believe this to be due to the extremely linear nature of the game. I know that JRPGs are linear by nature, but in an RPG, where exploration is essential, it is prudent to be able to return to previous areas to collect that which you’ve missed. There are quite a few RPGs I prefer to play with a walkthrough, even though that’s not my style, just because I don’t want to have to play it all over again due to having missed something forever. So, in addition to an appropriate level of content, access to it shouldn’t be permanently denied after a certain point, unless that point happens to take place within the final dungeon.
Speaking of appropriate levels of content, there’s a rising trend that really bothers me about most newer RPGs: postgame content. Such a thing shouldn’t really exist; postgame is going online and telling your friends, fans, and whomever else wants to listen about the game you’ve just finished. Or otherwise, telling your real life friends, if you’re one of those people with non-digital friends; filthy socialites. When you finish a game, it should be finished, but many developers are insisting upon putting a little something extra for which you must return to the game to experience, often taking place in a continuity shattering place in the timeline before the battle with the final boss that you’ve already killed. Now, a little something extra might sound nice, and it is, but it has gotten way out of control. Dragon Quest 8’s postgame required that I nearly double my levels from what they were when I beat the final boss with relative ease, just to squeak by the optional super boss gauntlet. That’s more than just a little something extra; that’s another thirty to fifty hours of padding, but it contains items and other boons that you cannot acquire otherwise, not to mention one of the most relevant plot points in the entire game, so we who wish to complete everything have no other choice. I’ve heard that Dragon Quest 9 doesn’t even truly begin until you beat the game, but it just so happens to fulfill my desire to play dress up, so guess who’s getting sucked into a over two hundred hours of gameplay because she can’t afford new clothes? I don’t want to name names, but her initials are Alice Kojiro.
Seriously, how hard is it to stick something like this in to a game filled with androgynous teens!?
Of course, you saw this coming; it was unavoidable in any detailed discussion of RPGs in which I am involved: minigames. If you know me, you know that nothing draws out my alter-ego, Madame Firebreath, more consistently than minigames. Just to be clear, I don’t aggressively hate minigames. We can live in the same house as long as we’re not forced to be around each other for long periods of time. I’ve played minigames that I’ve found to be tolerable, and some that were even fun. The problems I have with these little blights are their omnipresence and their irrelevance. It seems like it’s mandatory that every RPG (and Action-Adventure, for that matter) be plagued with minigames that you absolutely need to master in order to get everything in the game. For completionists, or just those that want some cool new equipment, that means suffering through them. Yeah, you do that with optional super bosses, too, but leveling up, optimizing your equipment, and borking the system to defeat such bosses is something you bought the game to do. When you buy a Role-Playing Game, you’re buying it to guide a group of adventurers to a common goal, to build levels and skills, to explore dungeons, and to fight monsters. You don’t buy an RPG for the express purpose of racing, competing in shooting galleries, attempting ski jumps, or tossing magical candy at flying cats to build a flying spaceship out of them; RPGs are made for a different set of gamer skills, and should focus more on critical thinking than playing basketball with Shiva.
This is how Shiva actually looks.
The other big problem with minigames is the same problem with most full action-based battle systems: the controls. The developers don’t often take the time to make the controls appropriate for the minigames, often cheaping out by adapting sections of code from elsewhere in the game to (poorly) create some sort of action sequence. If you’re going to make a diversion in gameplay, build it from the ground up. Somewhat clunky controls might work just fine for walking around a dungeon with absolutely no precision or platforming involved, but when precise movements are required, it just doesn’t hold up. Better yet, just make the core gameplay interesting, so that the player doesn’t get bored enough to want something to distract him or herself from it. Oh, sorry, I’m thinking logically again; it’s a bad habit of mine.
The first six Final Fantasy games didn’t really have much of anything as far as minigames. Final Fantasy 7, 8, and 9 had them, but most of them didn’t really matter all that much. Final Fantasy 10 was Wario Ware with angsty, spiky-haired Squenix-crafted twits. The truth is that I didn’t actually play Final Fantasy 10. I didn’t have to, though perhaps, for this reason, you’ll pardon me if I flub a detail or two. My lady borrowed it from her roommate in college, and I watched bits and pieces of it. Whereas other RPGs sometimes mandated a minigame or two in order to get the best equipment of the game, this required two minigames per character in order to make their ultimate weapons not suck. You essentially need to do this in order to defeat the final boss. Okay, fine; what did she have to do? She had to play underwater soccer with, at best, tenuous control over the players, and one failure meant losing the ability to unlock the ultimate weapon forever unless she reset the game. She had to dodge 200 consecutive lighting bolts, which elicited swearing louder than my music despite its high volume and there having been an entire floor of the house between us. She had to race a chocobo with intentionally bad controls until she did it over and over again gradually making it playable and finish in zero seconds. After my having made a few sarcastic comments on the absurd situation, she replied, “It’s not that bad; at least I can accomplish this, unlike chasing those stupid (CENSORED; this is a family site, after all) butterflies!” Yes, there’s actually something worse than finishing a race with no time on the clock. Worse yet is that some boss battles are like minigames. The Chocobo Eater won’t give you his full rewards if you kill him; you have to knock him backwards into the water with his weakness, which is likely to kill him before you get there. With that, the franchise I’d loved for years died in my living room.
Oh, now that’s just shameless!
One of the worst I’ve seen, though, is Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood. Having a Sonic RPG was a cool idea, especially considering how well Mario pulled it off, so I was pretty excited to play it. I was willing to put aside the pretentious characters and just enjoy it as a game. It initially showed promise; you move around your environment, using characters’ special abilities to reach new areas, much like in Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga. The battle system was also somewhat similar to the aforementioned Mario RPG. I was looking forward to a great game until I fought a battle that lasted more than one round. Evidently, the enemies will try to run away, and you have to play the old “jump over the obstacles while you auto-run” minigame. After every single round of every single battle unless you’ve defeated the enemies already. I’ve played games like Phantasy Star 3: Generations of Doom, which strongly encourage you to wipe out every enemy in the first round, but this is the first game that has actively punished me for doing so. That and Phantasy Star 3 has weapons that attack large groups of enemies with each attack. When you know that the battles in an RPG are going to be annoying, you’re in for a rough ride.
There have been RPGs that have gotten it right over the years, however. Lennus 2: Fuuin no Shito had exactly two minigames, only one of which was mandatory or even meaningful. While retaining the problem of being poorly programmed, they’re both stupidly easy. The first one you encounter (the optional one) is collecting eggs in an underground river. They pop up and you run against the current to grab them. All this does is let you build a house for yourself; essentially a free inn. Now, you need no more than forty eggs to build the biggest possible house, and every time you play, what you get is added to your total, so if you only get one each time, you can just play the game forty times, if you care that much. The other is a race, which is so incredibly easy that you can pull ahead mere seconds into the race and just enjoy the scenery, coasting through the rest of the race; the minigames there, but they aren’t going to impede your progress, even if you’re a completionist like me.
Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door took more of a Kirby approach to minigames: they’re there if you want to play them, but they just get you things you could get elsewhere without great difficulty, only in greater quantities. You can play them to get tokens with which you can buy special items (Cake Mix being the most useful of which, and it’s rather cheap), or you can buy the tokens at the dispenser; you are actually given a choice. This is exactly what minigames should be in every genre: little diversions that are there if you want them, but ignoring them will in no way prevent you from that golden 100%.
Rogue Galaxy also had a neat approach to the situation: a minigame that focuses upon thinking, rather than quick reflexes. It is, perhaps, ironic that the one of the few RPGs I’ve played with good action controls would take the path of inaction (reference to Hinduism unintentional) and do it so well, but it provides me with a solid example of what other games could do. Remember when RPGs used to be the thinking (wo)man’s game? Well, in Rogue Galaxy, the factory minigame brings us back to that time. There are 5 different kinds of materials, each of which must be processed by a different machine. You need tubes to transport the materials through the machines and into assemblers. Each piece takes a different amount of time to do its thing, and that is given in numerical units. Each piece of equipment (not counting the tubes, of course) must also be plugged into a wall outlet. Your job is to take a set of blueprints you’ve found and, using the appropriate materials, throw all of this stuff together, plug it all in, and make everything reach the assembler at the same time, using math and logistics. It’s a satisfyingly brain-busting game, but you can take your time, and you’re able to accomplish it consistently, regardless of your reflexes. For completing this task, you’re given the item you just made, which then also becomes available to purchase in certain shops, just like you’re running a real factory. A minigame in an RPG that’s crafted toward the skillset used in playing an RPG? Brilliant!
A minigame that doesn’t suck? And requires actual thought!? Yay!
Better yet is that this is a great alternative to item synthesis, because you don’t have the build conundrum. The build conundrum goes like this: you put iron and dynamite together to make a shrapnel bomb, then you put a shrapnel bomb with napalm (made of gasoline and styrofoam) to make an Armageddon Bomb. Now, that Armageddon Bomb is used in a number of recipes, but you need four items to make just one, and it just keeps going on and on, making the highest level fusions something you have to plan out twenty hours ahead of time, and it just becomes a colossal pain. Don’t get me wrong, I love item synthesis; it was a very fun and rewarding part of both Dragon Quest 8 and Castlevania: Curse of Darkness (not an RPG), but it has its points at which it becomes a bit overwhelming. I’m sure we all have enough of overwhelming with school, work, or whatever; we don’t need it in things we buy for the sheer purpose of enjoyment; design item synthesis tables intelligently.
Chrono Trigger took a very unique approach to both pacing and optional content; make nearly the entire game, aside from the final boss, optional. From very early on in Chrono Trigger, you are free to take on the final boss whenever you wish. In a New Game +, you can do it mere minutes into the game. Of course, if you go in at your first opportunity, you will be hopelessly annihilated, unless you’ve spent years grinding or you’re cheating, but the option is there. Even when you’re supposed to tackle the final boss, you’re given the option of spending some more time on any or all of seven short side quests that have opened up, all of which are at least marginally relevant to the plot and offer helpful items. There are minigames, but they’re largely optional, and most can easily be circumvented. The point is, in Chrono Trigger, the pacing is exactly what you want it to be, which is an awful lot of freedom for a JRPG to offer, especially during the fourth generation of gaming.
It should be evident at this point that the content in an RPG is very important, and perhaps even moreso than in any other genre. The amount is crucial, but its placement, nature, the thought behind it, and even the context are all very important in determining whether it is an enhancement, as it is intended to be, or just fluff. Bits of fluff are acceptable, but excessive amounts make it impossible to hide their meaningless nature, and thus, they provide less than adequate motivation. The “fun” side content becomes a chore to complete, which defeats the whole purpose. I still stand by what I said: if the developers put the majority of their efforts into making the main game and content fun and engaging, there is no need for additional content. The original Dragon Warrior had none, but what was on the standard path was crafted well enough that it wasn’t necessary to have any. I like the additional content, but I do not feel it should be used as a crutch to support an otherwise weak game.
That’s a lot of fluff!
Can there be any doubt that good gameplay is essential in an RPG? If a game forgets that it’s a game, it might as well have been born in another medium. Other elements of a game are also important – I’ll not deny that – but gameplay is the foundation of any game in any genre. Whether it be as complex as one of the wilder installments in the Final Fantasy series or as simple as Passage, it must be carefully molded and crafted to fit the context of its game. As I’ve shown, there are a great many things that go into what makes the gameplay of an RPG tick, and that’s something relatively unique to the genre because of its nature. What I’m saying is that, as much as it drives me up the wall sometimes, the genre has a great deal of potential, both to have potential, and for that potential to be squandered whether on experiments untested before being shipped off to game stores or on developers that simply do not understand what makes an RPG enjoyable as a game and rely on story as a prosthesis, which is a sadly effective method, as far as sales are concerned. We should all go back to our roots to get a firm grasp on what makes this genre really stand out among the others.
Next time, we’re going to take it easy, and return to my roots (as an author of Gaming Symmetry) a bit with that which this miniseries is temporarily replacing: graphics. Shallow as it may make me seem, I think visuals are very important in any game, but due to their relatively laid-back and exploratory nature, RPGs tend to benefit more from strong visuals than most other genres, likely second only to Adventures. Oases of Beauty fans, prepare yourselves to get a glimpse into the aesthetic part of the inner workings of my mind; it’s a rough ride.
Format: Game Title (Alternate title; Region). Developer, Original system of release, Original Release Date.
Castlevania: Curse of Darkness. Konami, Sony Playstation 2/Microsoft XBOX, 11/01/2005.
Chrono Trigger. Squaresoft, Super Nintendo Entertainment System, 03/11/1995.
Dragon Warrior (Dragon Quest; Japan). ChunSoft, Nintendo Entertainment System, 05/27/1986.
Dragon Quest 8: Journey of the Cursed King (Dragon Quest 8: Sora to Umi to Daichi to Norowareshi Himegimi; Japan). Level 5, Sony Playstation 2, 11/27/2004.
Dragon Quest 9: Sentinels of the Starry Skies (Dragon Quest 9: Hoshizora no Mamoribito; Japan). Level 5, Nintendo DS, 07/11/2009.
Final Fantasy 5. Squaresoft, Super Nintendo Entertainment System, 12/06/1992.
Final Fantasy 6. Squaresoft, Super Nintendo Entertainment System, 04/02/1994.
Final Fantasy 7. Squaresoft, Sony Playstation, 01/31/1997.
Final Fantasy 8. Squaresoft, Sony Playstation, 02/11/1999.
Final Fantasy 9. Squaresoft, Sony Playstation, 07/07/2000.
Final Fantasy 10. Squaresoft, Sony Playstation 2, 07/19/2001.
Final Fantasy Mystic Quest (Final Fantasy USA; Japan). Squaresoft, Super Nintendo Entertainment System, 10/05/1992.
Knight Quest. Lenar, Nintendo Game Boy, 09/13/1991.
Lennus 2: Fuuin no Shito. Copya Systems, Super Nintendo Entertainment System, 07/26/1996.
Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga (Mario & Luigi RPG; Japan). Alphadream Corporation, Nintendo Game Boy Advance, 11/17/2003.
Mega Man X Command Mission. Capcom, Sony Playstation 2, 07/29/2004.
Paper Mario (Mario Story; Japan). Intelligent Systems, Nintendo 64, 08/11/2000.
Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door (Paper Mario RPG; Japan). Intelligent Systems, Nintendo Game Cube, 07/22/2004.
Parasite Eve. Squaresoft, Sony Playstation, 03/29/1998.
Phantasy Star 3: Generations of Doom (Toki no Keishousha: Phantasy Star 3; Japan). Sega, Sega Genesis, 04/20/1990.
Pocket Monsters Midori. Game Freak, Nintendo Super Game Boy, 02/27/1996.
Pokémon Red Version (Pocket Monsters Aka; Japan). Game Freak, Nintendo Super Game Boy, 02/27/1996.
Pokémon Blue Version (Pocket Monsters Ao; Japan). Game Freak, Nintendo Super Game Boy, 10/15/1996.
Pokémon Yellow: Special Pikachu Edition (Pocket Monsters Pikachu; Japan). Game Freak, Nintendo Super Game Boy, 09/12/1998.
Pokémon Gold Version (Pocket Monsters Kin; Japan). Game Freak, Nintendo Game Boy Color, 11/21/1999.
Pokémon Silver Version (Pocket Monsters Gin; Japan). Game Freak, Nintendo Game Boy Color, 11/21/1999.
Rogue Galaxy. Level 5, Sony Playstation 2, 12/08/2005.
SaGa Frontier. Squaresoft, Sony Playstation, 07/11/1997.
Skies of Arcadia (Eternal Arcadia; Japan). Overworks, Sega Dreamcast, 10/05/2000.
Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood (Sonic Chronicles: Yami Jigen Kara no Shinryakusha; Japan). BioWare, Nintendo DS, 09/25/2008.