
Originally Posted by
Rutelor
I expected the fight to be easy. When I was playing FFXI, and after having reached level 60 in my first job, I went back and did many of the early quests in the other cities, to increase my reputation. They were very easy, yes, but they never struck me as inorganic, makeshift or lazily put together. What rubbed me the wrong way, with the one with the dodos, and quite a few others, was the unimaginative situational arrangement of the mobs. They were all, pre-popped, waiting for me in a narrow corner of the world (I know you know where, right before Nanawa.)
And there they sit to this day, hopefully waiting for their executiouners, as a painful reminder of the clumsiness of the design of many of the aspects of this game. There is a clone of this quest, this time one about marmots, also sitting there, milling restlessly, waiting for their demise, nary a few meters away from where the dodos stand.
It's something that fits in the same drawer as those caves, and sections of the terrain that are so disturbingly similar to each other, the one a photocopy of the previous one. Annoying reminders of the mystique-less, design-by-numbers attitude that has taken over somewhere at Square Enix.
You never encountered things like that in FFXI. And all of a sudden I realize that what I miss about that game are not its game mechanics, or its clunky implementation, or the awful interface, but rather the mystique with which this quirky game was built, and the affection that was evidently put into it, an affection that ricocheted all around, and embedded itself in you when you logged off, every time.