A favorite video game encounter construct I happen to revel in is a coliseum setup, whereby I have battle after uninterrupted battle; it makes combat more seamless, and leveling a breeze. As such, the Hercules world in Kingdom Hearts has a special place in my bloodthirsty heart—especially given that I get to face off against a number of Final Fantasy characters, who are represented and voice-acted quite faithfully.
The Hercules battle above is the end of the official arc of the world—after him, the world gets sealed, and the story continues elsewhere. But the closing dialogue is striking, as it presents a new idea of what a “hero” is: it’s not a single person, as the mythical antiquities that present Hercules describe, but a unity of many people who work toward a higher goal.
The question of why Sora must face Hercules alone thus arises—does not Sora challenge Hercules out of some headstrong hubris? Not quite—this thinking ignores the world’s larger picture: Hercules is the last obstacle standing between the the protagonists and their mission of finding all the keyholes to banish the Heartless. Hercules, being an embodiment of a classical, egocentric herocism, must be faced alone by Sora, so that he may confront the reflection of his own selfish motivation. By overcoming him, Sora rejoins his friends and once more comes to realize how deeply tied he is to Donald and Goofy’s duty, and by sealing the keyhole they uncover together, they are united as a collectively heroic force, rather than self-interested, isolated bodies.
I’ll mention now that the very notion of facing the final boss after a lengthy string of challenging opponents alone certainly puts pressure on the player—failure is not a personal issue; it sets back the entire party’s mission. It is this compelling fear of hindering the greater quest of your allies that emotionally reinforces the importance of the group, rather than the individual—even when the individual acts alone, he acts for the good of all. The moral message embedded in this one battle is profound, and, though the dialogue that follows it is rather cheesy, it is undoubtedly worth consideration.
This recalls Final Fantasy 4, wherein Cecil must face the (quite literal) mirror image of his Dark Knight self, and by overcoming it, transforms into Paladin Cecil, and rejoins the party with a renewed righteousness, and the powers of Light rather than Dark magic. Now I’m led to wonder: why do RPGs so often include introspective fight sequences, and how is the video game medium so well-equipped to make these scenes powerful?
2 years ago • Notes