Alright. So I know that I said I was going to go with something actually pertaining to my sphere of influence – I.E. Western literature – but, if I’m being honest, I’m having a hard time putting what I want to say about the series I want to talk about into words. And in the midst of all that self-consciousness, all of the stress from working through my book release only made things worse and it got to the point that continuing that particular discussion was causing more problems than it was solving. In a sense. Thus: this week I shall return to the ever-reliable well of Ys. In that first article I put up, I mentioned that the Ys series is a heavy contender for my favorite game series and I don’t think that really puts across how much it means to me [Footnote 1]. When I say ‘heavy contender for favorite’ this doesn’t include the fact that I only got into the series one year prior. Nor that I’ve since played three of the games twice [Footnote 2] and intend to play another one of them again shortly, once I finish another bit of minor game-related business. Ys is a game series where I leapt into it mostly blind and not expecting too much. But I found out it was almost exactly the kind of thing I needed in my life, exactly the kind of thing that resonates with my soul, and… There are a few ways that I can put how the truly impactful series in my life made me feel. There are some series where I discovered them and it felt like they had always been a part of my life. Like I’d always known it would be important to me and just brought it to my conscious mind the first time I played / read / watched them. Then there are some where even though they haven’t always been a part of my life, the sheer impact they left manages to make me feel nostalgic for something that doesn’t exist. Nostalgia for a world that could not exist. And that’s where Ys fits in. I’d heard of it a few times before I played my first game of the series and kind of shrugged it off as something that didn’t interest me. But now that I’ve played them… I can imagine a world in which I did discover them earlier. Playing them now, I know they’re the exact kind of thing I would have loved when they first came out [Footnote 3].
But enough gushing about how much I love the series. This is supposed to be a place where I discuss the things I think series do well, discuss the things that I aspire to in my own writing. And I have two particular things in mind for the Ys series as a whole. But first, I would be remiss if I did not explain what the Ys series actually is, since I can’t hold the expectation that everyone who stumbles onto this website will know it. I won’t bother giving you the real-world history of the series [Footnote 4] since it isn’t particularly relevant to the discussion. Put simply, Ys is a long-running series of action RPGs dating all the way back to 1987 with the release of its first entry in ‘Ancient Ys Vanished – Omens’. Now it’s all the way up to ten entries, ignoring remakes [Footnote 5], with 2019’s Monstrum Nox as the most recent entry and the eleventh entry (tenth numbered) ‘Nordics’ coming sometime this year. In Japan at least [Footnote 6]. Once more, I could give more information, but I think you’d be better served going to the professionals, as it were. If you’re really interested in the series, I’d direct you to Digital Emelas, the most prominent fan website and a truly great resource. I’ll put a link in a footnote (and desperately hope I’m not being impolite) [Footnote 7]. Because that still doesn’t really tell you what Ys is actually about. And so I’ll just put it in the words of one of the games (Lacrimosa of Dana, 8) itself: “Do you know the name Adol Christin? This story is from one of his many adventure journals. Who is this girl from Adol’s dreams? The ‘eternally cursed’ Isle of Seiren. What great mystery is hidden on the island? On this legendary deserted island, surrounded by crashing waves, Adol’s new adventure begins!” Or, to put it another way, the series follows everybody’s favorite self-proclaimed ‘adventurer’ Adol Christin (and usually his best bro Dogi the Wallcrusher [Footnote 8]) as he follows legends and rumors to a new location to explore and uncovers the mysteries of the place, usually saving the world from some sort of god-like entity in the process. Every game in the series is an individual adventure of one man that just wishes to explore the world and find new things. And in that way, they ride a fine line between oneshot stories you can experience with no knowledge of the others and a deeply connected saga with a rich lore [Footnote 9]. Which is an excellent lead into the first thing I’d like to talk about: the world of Ys.
So those of you familiar with relatively obscure folklore might recognize Ys as the name of a mythical city that is supposed to have fallen beneath the ocean somewhere around Brittany [Footnote 10]. And that is a prominent feature of the first few games of the series: the legendary city of Ys which vanished from the region of Esteria. But it’s not just a name and general narrative tie that connects the two. When you actually look at the world of Ys, Esteria is the same rough equivalent to Brittany. And the rest of the world is similarly, well, similar to our world. Which makes the lore an utter delight to dive into because of the similarities and differences it has to our own world. For instance, a prominent narrative element in the game world’s modern times is a war between the Romun Empire (Not misspelled) and the Kingdom of Altago, a nation that dominates the northern coast of Afroca (Not misspelled). Something which, as you learn more about the specifics of the nations and the conflict itself, is a clear reference to the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage. And there’s more than just that. In the most recent entry, a prominent feature of the backstory is the Hundred Years’ War between Gllia and Britai, which only ended when a holy woman rallied the Gllian troops before being captured and burned at the stake. A familiar story to anyone that knows of our Hundred Years’ War and Jeanne d’Arc. But none of these details are taken at face value. They work into the world and shape it. The conflicts influence character’s motives and the plots of various games – for example, a long running plot point was Adol’s desire to explore Altago which was foiled by the war with Romn, a war which ended as a result of events mentioned in Memories of Celceta. And so instead of using history and myth as a familiar set dressing, it’s used as a way to show how minor differences could make a world so similar and yet different to our own. Minor differences like the existence of magic [Footnote 11], monsters, and an ancient super-civilization which collapsed and left remnants all over the world [Footnote 12].
So what does this do in a narrative sense? Well it provides an incentive for the audience to dive more deeply. It proves the dedication of the writers to making a well-developed and connected setting. Because it rewards people for being able to recognize the references to our world without requiring that knowledge. The plot still functions if the narrative elements are taken at face value, but an audience member who can understand the nuance of them more deeply gets an entirely different perspective, like an inside joke given with a wink and a nod. It almost allows two stories to be told at once; the story actually occurring in the setting and the story woven by its interaction with our world. And in terms of the depth of development, it also means that the writers are incentivized to make sure their story is consistent. Because there is a history present in the world, whether it’s been stated or not. Our history, just a little different. And so every single plot element that happens carries with it the weight of either preserving that tie or deliberately disrupting it and all the consequences that come with either option. It makes the world all the more fascinating and more meaningful to us because we can relate more to the characters since they aren’t too different from us after all. But I feel like I’m rambling a little bit and losing coherency, so on to the next!
And I have to confess, even though this is the second of two points, I actually remembered that I have a third. This one. So… Whoops. Put simply: one of the things Ys does best – and I have touched upon this – is managing to be both compartmentalized and connected all at once. As I said before, every adventure is an individual story [Footnote 13]. You can pick up any game, play it to completion, and understand perfectly well what happened even if you’ve never played another Ys game before. Because that’s what the series, what Adol’s sense of adventure, is about. Every single one takes place in a unique part of the world, during Adol’s first time exploring that region (at least thus far). Even Ys Origin, the prequel, is perfectly understandable on its own. But that’s not to say there isn’t any incentive to playing more than one nor a narrative that unites them all. There is a common thread through most of the games that makes it so the more of the games you play, the more you get out of each experience. And there is a chronological order to them, so you can trace Adol’s growth and the influence each story has on his character as the games go on. For instance: in Ark of Napisthim (VI), a few of the characters that show up are repeats from previous games. A fun include if you’ve seen them before, but not so weighed down by narrative ties that you won’t understand who they are if you haven’t. They exist as their own characters in that story as well and fill the roles they are meant to fill. And all of this speaks to an important value that’s been largely lost in modern storytelling: small-scale stories. These days, it’s hard to find any kind of oneshot adventure like from the old serial fantasy novels or an episodic show like the old monster of the weeks. Because so much emphasis is placed on connectivity that anything without it is considered worthless. Or rather, to put it less critically, in series that are meant to have an overarching narrative arc, any plot that does not contribute to the overarching narrative is seen as a waste of narrative space. Television series are like segmented movies, movies are sprawling dramas, and books are all multipart epics. It’s far harder to find the whimsical adventure of a oneshot that Ys does so well to preserve. The story that may not affect the setting’s broader world too much, but matters to those who experienced it; whether character or audience. Which is not to say a story like that can’t also progress some broader narrative [Footnote 14], but that those elements are secondary. They come to the fore only once the principle narrative of the microcosmic story is fully developed.
And now to the last thing that I want to talk about in regards to Ys. For now. It can only be the man, the myth, the legend: Adol ‘the Red’ Christin. Because I find Adol to be one of the most compelling protagonists of any RPG I’ve played of late. Especially because he’s a (mostly) silent protagonist. To put it into perspective, as touched upon in that narration I used from Lacrimosa of Dana’s (VIII) opening, the series as a whole [Footnote 15] uses the framing device of Adol’s adventure journals [Footnote 16]. Each game is supposed to be the story of his adventure as he wrote it, after the fact. So they’re told in the first person, because we’re playing what Adol wrote about himself and Adol was a fairly humble writer; he never felt the need to talk about himself when there was so much other interesting stuff happening and interesting people he was meeting. But that isn’t to say Adol is uninteresting because he’s silent. He’s actually one of the best examples of how to write a silent protagonist. Even without him giving input or speaking his opinions (mostly), the audience can still get a complete understanding of who he is from the actions he takes and the way other people react to him. It’s easy to understand that Adol is a genuinely good person from the fact that he constantly dives into trouble with no thought for himself, simply because someone else is in danger. Or, in a simpler manner, because he’s a rare example of an RPG protagonist that won’t walk into people’s houses and open their chests without permission. Even other characters will note that he’s fairly quiet, but still polite and kind. And we can tell that because of how he manages to draw other people to him, how he acts as a beacon of hope to people in despair. But that’s not the end of it. There’s also the fact that he does have his own eccentricities that come across in the same way. Like his love of ancient ruins. Other characters note how he’s constantly running off to explore any to the point that a younger character in one game outright says “Look Adol! Old buildings! Your favorite!” Or in another game, characters note that Adol’s eyes literally sparkle when he hears people talk about ruins. There’s small things like that which provide a complete picture of who Adol is even without him saying anything.
And that’s not the end of it either. Because another of Adol’s strengths is the fact that he is a (fairly) static character. Or more pertinently, consistent. Because at the core of Adol is one driving principle: his love of adventure. He is an adventurer, so he adventures. And that’s the one thing that shapes every action he takes. Why does he end up in places where ancient demons threaten to destroy the world? Because there was a mystery he couldn’t help but want to uncover. Why doesn’t he rest on his laurels and live a life of comfort provided by the grateful people he saved (Besides the fact that he’s way too humble to desire fame and too kind to take advantage of someone’s generosity like that)? Because he could never sit so idly when there’s a world to be explored. Why does he move on even when it means leaving behind dear friends made [Footnote 17] and women who are clearly enamored with him? Because no matter how much he loves his friends, he loves the thrill of adventure more. There’s always another horizon calling. Even when a near literal god offered to give him (geographic) knowledge of the whole world, he denied it. Because that would take the fun out of discovering it for himself. No matter which game you pick up, you can be confident the Adol you find will feel familiar because that same guiding principle shapes his actions and goals. And this even extends to one of the few instances he wasn’t a silent, first person protagonist in the Monstrum Nox prequel novel ‘The Lost Sword’. Despite the drastic shift in narrative structure, Adol still felt like Adol. There were all of those small quirks that were put across subtly through the games put on full display from an outside perspective. The quiet, humble nature in which he interacts with others. The almost effortless way that he fights against what should be overwhelming odds. The somewhat offbeat way that his mind works when the prospect of something interesting comes up [Footnote 18]. It’s all there. Everything the audience had always known about him still put across in a more direct manner [Footnote 19].
With that being said, his fairly static nature also works to the narrative’s strength. Because it places more precedent on the story itself, the characters Adol meets, and further serves to highlight Adol’s own humble nature. Any given story is less about Adol himself and more the region in which he finds himself. The problems he faces are not his own, but those of the people he meets. Which makes the world all the richer because so much development is placed in making sure each region has its own life to it. Its own problems, reactions, and effective hopes for what it can become, put across through the people who live there. And the characters Adol meets have their own development all spurred on by his presence. It is their story and he’s just a player in it, someone who helps them find the path forward. All things which are put across by a singular point: Adol is not the chosen one. Sometimes he becomes the chosen one, but more by accident than anything else. In those cases, he does not solve the problem because he was chosen, he is chosen because he appeared to solve the problem. Fundamentally, Adol is just a man. No magic, no destiny, no grand ambitions. Simply a man with a singular love that leads him through his life and leads him to better the world around him.
And so I think that’s about it for now. I hope my points actually made at least a little bit of sense; I always worry that I kind of lose track of what I’m saying when I do this kind of thing. As a parting sentiment: I cannot recommend Ys enough. It is a true adventure, one that makes me want to explore the world around me. I’d personally recommend starting with 1 and 2, then Origin, then going in chronological order, but the bump system can be a bit of a tough sell. If you’re interested and want a oneshot with very little investment, try either Lacrimosa of Dana (VIII) or Ark of Napishtim (VI), depending on your tolerance for old game mechanics [Footnote 20]. Put simply, Lacrimosa of Dana is probably the easiest to get into from a lore perspective (not counting 1 and 2) while also presenting one of the most polished modern gaming experinces in the series. On the other hand, Ark of Napishtim hits you with a fair amount of deeper setting lore that would forge connections with the other games more easily, but is admittedly a bit rough around the edges from a gameplay perspective. I still love it, but could understand it being a bit tedious for others.
Footnote 1: I also now realize there was (at least) one flaw in my crazed theorizing: when I mentioned characters from Esteria showing up in later games, I forgot that it’s explicitly stated in Monstrum Nox that neither Dogi nor Adol have seen anyone from Esteria besides Raba. But I digress.
Footnote 2: Not counting the three playthroughs required for Origin.
Footnote 3: Memories of Celceta particularly hits that spot with me, because it feels like just the kind of game I would’ve eaten up in high school.
Footnote 4: One of company Nihon Falcom’s two most popular game series alongside the Kiseki / Trails series.
Footnote 5: Kind of. The crossover with Trails doesn’t really count and you’d be hard pressed to find someone that would talk about Ys Strategy.
Footnote 6: And given I wrote a theory article about that game… Yeah, you could say I’m excited.
Footnote 7: https://www.digitalemelas.com
Footnote 8: We love Dogi here. Don’t ever say anything bad about our wallcrusher.
Footnote 9: Except Ys 2. One would have to be truly insane to play Ys 2 without first playing Ys 1.
Footnote 10: The generally agreed location of the myth itself is the Baie de Douarnenez.
Footnote 11: And the presence of a second moon. Which hasn’t ever really been addressed. I have my theories and it pertains to the origin of Emel, but I digress.
Footnote 12: Still more responsible precursors than the Alterans.
Footnote 13: *Side-eyes Ys 2*.
Footnote 14: Let me tell you my thoughts about the inevitable showdown between Adol and Romn.
Footnote 15: Except Origins, but Adol wasn’t alive then.
Footnote 16: Also, I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned it up till now, but Adol’s last adventure was when he disappeared in search of the north pole at 65. Some fans joke that he became Santa Claus.
Footnote 17: Because he always has Dogi.
Footnote 18: I’ve seen Adol’s attitude in this regard compared to Eru Chitanda of ‘Hyouka’ fame’s whole “I’m curious” / “I need to know more”. And… Yeah. That about sums it up.
Footnote 19: Even, as you might be able to guess by the title, his complete an utter inability to hold on to a legendary sword of immeasurable power.
Footnote 20: I’ll never forgive the Dash Jump.
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