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Showing posts with label square enix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label square enix. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Surprisingly Sexual Pixels (or — The Lady, or the Old Homosexual?)

When I last wrote about Squaresoft, the purveyor of countless adventures for indoors children (1987 to present), I explained the awkwardness of Square’s Tom Sawyer, a Nintendo Entertainment System title. Despite the success that Final Fantasy would find across the Pacific and despite the fact that Mark Twain’s characters made the game an easy sell to Americans, Square’s Tom Sawyer remained in Japan. And while we can’t be sure why, the blatantly racist depiction of Jim probably didn’t help.

Today, it’s another Squaresoft title that never reached American shores and that also dealt with themes that American gamers at the time would have found surprising.


Between February and May 1996, Squaresoft released the last few games for the Super Famicom, the Japanese equivalent of the Super Nintendo. Of them, only one would make it here, and among the ones that didn’t was Bahamut Lagoon, a spin-off of the Final Fantasy series that introduced military simulation elements in a way that sort of makes it a forerunner to Final Fantasy Tactics. (In fact, according to the Final Fantasy Wiki, Bahamut Lagoon was originally going to be called Final Fantasy Tactics.) Also, there’s a bunch of dragons. You know — like you do. But this post isn’t about war strategy or dragons. Nope, it’s about sexuality.

In the game, you control your standard non-speaking protagonist. And while there’s a princess to be fussed over — a princess named Yoyo, unfortunately — there’s also an older gentleman, Sendak, who is wise but doddery and who is skilled in magic.

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And he’s also gay. And that’s surprising to me.

Full disclosure: I haven’t played Bahamut Lagoon, but I had some awareness ever since a spread in Diehard Gamefan teased it back in the day as “AWESOME GAME YOU’LL NEVER PLAY, YOU MONOLINGUAL LOSER!” or something to that effect. And I can’t remember how I ended up reading about it, but I learned that this one character was either outright gay or just unusually, specifically interested in the hero to the point that he makes increasingly obvious passes at him over the course of the game. Most discussions about the game mention this in one way or another, and they should: Gay or apparently gay characters in video games still aren’t that common today, to say nothing of games released in 1996.




Now, if that weren’t strange enough, here’s the kicker about gay ol’ Sendak and his constant propositions: You have the option whether to rebuff him. As TV Tropes points, out, “Sure, it’s played for laughs (as is most romantic character interaction in the game), but for a 90s Squaresoft SNES game, it's downright revolutionary.”

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And, unless I’m mistaken, you have to be nice to the old guy at the expense of being nice to Princess Yoyo — which, I mean… her name is fucking Yoyo. (If any of you have firsthand experience with choosing or rejecting homosexuality, lemme know how that works out.)

In conclusion, two asterisks that didn’t fit anywhere else.

First, Sendak’s name. It is odd that the older gay man would share his name with a famous author who himself was gay, yes? But I have to assume that it’s a coincidence, because Maurice Sendak wasn’t openly gay until after 1996, and even during the kerfuffle about indecency in In the Night Kitchen seems to stem from the fact that there was a nudity in a children’s book at all and not just that nudity in a children’s book written and illustrated by a man who might have been gay. Or did it?

Second — and this is a short but important one — this game is freaking beautiful. Yes, it sometimes veers toward the kind of saturated multicolor you’d normally see on wolf-howling-at-the-moon t-shirt, but it’s still truly remarkable what the designers were able to achieve with a fourth-generation console.


Video game obscurities, previously:

Saturday, August 8, 2009

It’s a Secret to Everybody, Part Six: Final Fantasy IV and Dante’s Inferno

(This is a reposting of just one section of my rather extensive “It’s a Secret to Everybody” post on video game etymologies. Click the link to see the whole shebang. Links to other sections are at the bottom of this post.)

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In the previous In the previous post in the “Secret to Everybody” series, I focused on Final Fantasy games in general. My big feat for this Final Fantasy-themed section, is the under-reported background behind some Final Fantasy IV villains who reference Dante’s Inferno in ways people might not have expected. In short, the situation is this: Even if someone knew Inferno well, the fact that any bit-parters had showed up in this particular video game would be hard to spot, mostly as a result of the translation process. Like any good Final Fantasy game, the four classical elements — earth, water, air and fire — come into play in a few ways, including in the form of four major bad guys known as the Elemental Fiends. In the original English translation, these four are introduced as Milon (dirty dude), Kainazzo (wet and wild), Valvalis (bag of wind), and Rubicant (flames aplenty).

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left to right: flamey, drippy, dusty, and naked

However, the first three of these probably don’t ring a bell with Divine Comedy scholars, mostly because the character names from which they come didn’t survive the transition from the original Italian into Japanese and then into shoddily translated English that was even further complicated by space restraints. (Japanese text uses fewer character spaces than does English, leaving translators to choose between truncating names or futzing with game’s programming to allow for longer names.) Unlikely though it might have initially seemed, all four names do, in fact, come from demons in Inferno. They appear in cantos XXI though XXIII as the members of the Malebranche (“evil claws”), the guardians of the Malebolge (“evil ditches”), the eighth circle of hell. Included alongside such forgotten demons as Grafficane the Doggish, Dragnignazzo the Fell Dragon and Farfarello the Scandal-monger are Scarmiglione the Baneful (Milon plus some extra letters), Caynazzo (sic, more properly rendered as Cagnazzo, close enough to Kainazzo), Barbariccia the Malicious (a radically different transliteration of Valvalis) and Rubicante the Red With Rage (a recognizable version of Rubicant). Later revamps of the game featured the longer Italian names, and Final Fantasy IV DS featured an optional superboss called Geryon, who also takes his name from a member of the Mallebranche.

There’s one more Inferno boogeyman whose name appears in Final Fantasy IV: Calcabrina the Grace-Scorner. This name remains mostly intact in the game’s original English version as Calbrena, the name of a bizarre evil doll boss. And when I say “bizarre evil doll boss,” I actually mean to say that it’s a group of dancing puppets that assemble Transformers-style into one hulking instrument of pain. Weirdness aside, Calcabrina (whose name has also been represented as Calcobrena) is a minor character in Final Fantasy IV. That didn’t prevent the game’s sequel, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years from featuring controllable boy and girl robot characters named, Calca and Brina.

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calcabrena: disassembled concept art on left, godzilla-size in middle, in-game sprite on right

Etymologically, these Final Fantasy IV names have little apparent relevance on what kind of video game monster they became associated with. It’s almost as if Squaresoft staffers chose the names in the same random fashion that they same to borrow elements from different cultures and literatures: Flip open a book to whatever page it lands on, take a name and then attach said name to something irrelevant — giant evil doll or fire-spitting dinosaur or fiend with the head of an ice cream cone, the body of a hot dog and rollerskates for feet. I found various sites that explain possible etymologies of the names. By most accounts, for example, Barbariccia means “curly beard,” which might imply that the Final Fantasy IV character’s namesake is male and not a hot half-naked chick. I wonder, however, if the original Americanization of the name, Valvalis, could have been influenced by the late, great platformer series Valis, which star warrior women in armor bikinis much like the one Barbariccia wears.

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fatal flaw: lady battle suits that expose the very body parts they ought to protect

Calcabrina
can be translated as something like “he who can walk on brine,” but other sources take this to figuratively mean “nimble-footed,” which would actually make sense, given that the character’s base form comprises dancing dolls. An 1890 engraving by Gustave Doré seems to represent that sense of the name, showing Calcabrina and another demon, Alichino, as flying things with pterodactyl-like wings.

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calcabrina: less doll-like, and therefore less scary

Caynazzo — again, more correctly Cagnazzo — seems to confuse even the Dante know-it-alls. In reference to his analogue in Final Fantasy IV, the name is often cited as meaning “big dog nose.” In a literal sense, this could be true, as the Italian words for “dog” and “nose” are cane and naso. Some scholarly work even supports this: An annotated 1997 edition of Inferno notes that Dante uses cagnazzo as a generic word that the translators interpret as referring to the purple color of dog’s nose and lips. The same book explains the reference to the proper name Cagnazzo as meaning “evil dog,” with -azzo being a pejorative noun suffix.

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tortoise-looking cagnazzo in on top; more doggish concept art below

It so happens that a Japanese person could also read the name as the characters kai, “sea,” and nazo, “mystery,” which would make a lot more sense, given the character’s water associations. There’s yet another guess that the name could have something to do with the Biblical Cain. This could also make sense, since the Cagnazzo reveals himself in Final Fantasy VI only after having masqueraded as an ally for the first half of the game. This deception and betrayal would really make him more of a Judas than a Cain, however. Furthermore, the game already includes a character named Kain who also betrays the heroes — repeatedly, in fact. Ugh.

Attempted translations of Scarmiglione are suspiciously rare online, especially compared to those for Cagnazzo and Barbariccia, but the 1997 Inferno edition offers “tangle head” as a suitable English version of the name. Another site offers “troublemaker,” which is perhaps a figurative extension of “tangle head” that works better in Italian than in English. Finally, Rubicante is translated variously as “he who grows red” and “ruby-faced.”

It’s also worth noting, however, that some Dante scholars suspect that the poet created the demons to reference the names of certain powerful individuals and wealthy families living in Italy at the time, so even these guesses at what the names may not properly explain what Dante was trying to accomplish in creating them.

So, now, with all that text I just spat out about Divine Comedy associations, you might think that the people who made Final Fantasy IV were huge fans, right? I’m actually not so sure, for although these characters each appear in Inferno, they also appear in Devils, a little-known 1904 novel on demonology by James Charles Wall. (It’s an entertaining read, if you have the time. Did you know that the demons of Hell marry and divorce, just as humans do? Back when I read it, I put up a whole post devoted to its non-video games-related aspects, if you’re interested.) Devils is often cited as an apparent inspiration for Final Fantasy IV by especially literate games-and-names folks, and with good reason: All five of the aforementioned monsters are in here. So is a sixth, actually, and this fact helps both to explain one of the stranger names in the Final Fantasy IV and also to indicate that Final Fantasy IV could have actually never read Inferno.

Throughout much of the game, the villain is an unreasonably evil dude who goes by the improbable name Golbez. As the story progresses, Cecil, the hero, discovers that Golbez is actually his long-lost brother. (This sort of thing apparently happens all the time.) Among many other questions are these: If the two are brothers, why did Cecil get a relatively normal name while the other was saddled with something as unfortunate as Golbez? Was having such a bum name what drove Golbez to villainy? And where does Golbez come from, anyway? For me, these remain unanswered, more or less, until just recently, with the release of the latest incarnation of the game, Final Fantasy IV DS. In it, the player even learns that before his days as big bad, Golbez went by a more typical landwalker name, Theodore. The game even offers a flashback in which Theodore is controllable. It’s short-lived, however, as the lad quickly falls under the influence of evil, so much so that the game’s ultimate big bad even renames him Golbez, calling him “an insect born from a dragon’s corpse.” The phrase has its own implications to the plot of the game, but it also recalls a relatively obscure legend that appears in Devils. Wall writes:
One legend places the scene of the combat between St. George and the Dragon in one of a range of caves near the castle of Golubaes, in Servia. These caves are infested by the Golubaeser Fly, a venomous insect resembling a mosquito [whose] presence is accounted for by the assertion of the peasants that the decomposed body of the dragon has continued to generate these insects to the present day.
As I understand it, Walls refers to the Golubac (or Galambóc) region of Serbia, home to the Golubac Fortress, which was allegedly was beset by bloodsucking insects at one point. The scientific name for the species seems to be Simulium colombaschense, which appears on the Wikipedia listing for the black fly genus Simulium but, notably, not as a specific page, which suggests that the species is rather obscure. In any case, Golubaeser or Golbaeser or some other form of the name went into Japanese — where it would be represented as something like Gorbeza or Golbezo — and finally came out as English as Golbez.

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golbez: hey there, mr. black fly

Of course, the story has absolutely nothing to do with Inferno, making its mention in Devils potential evidence that the latter, not the former, inspired the people who made Final Fantasy IV. Even further evidence, now that I think about it: Wall’s book lists the demon’s name as Caynazzo, which is how it would be pronounced, rather than Cagnazzo, which is how it would be correctly spelled in Italian. If the game’s creators were working directly from Devils and not Inferno itself, it would make sense then that that American translation of the name would end up being Kainazzo, without the “G” it should have had. I’d call sloppy work on Square’s part if it hadn’t been so much fun to research.

Syntyche, the poster who pointed out the Golbez/Golubaeser connection, also theorizes that Golbez essentially means “pigeon house,” citing that golub means “pigeon” in Serbian. (And it does, and in Croatian Bosnian as well. It also means “dove” in all three languages. Golub is related to the Latin columba, also meaning “dove” or “pigeon.”) The theory is supported by Wikipedia, which notes that the town of Golubac is sometimes called “the town of doves.”

And believe it or not, that actually does it for Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy in general and all things relating to The Divine Comedy. There’s nothing much else left save for odds and ends. And, yes, I do realize that I began the original post stating that it would be a depository of odds and ends. We’re finally there. It just took us a while to arrive.

The whole “It’s a Secret to Everybody” series:

Saturday, August 1, 2009

It’s a Secret to Everybody, Part Five: Name Origins for Final Fantasy

(This is a reposting of just one section of my rather extensive “It’s a Secret to Everybody” post on video game etymologies. Click the link to see the whole shebang. Links to other sections are at the bottom of this post.)

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And then there’s Final Fantasy. In a sense, I’m barely going to even touch on this sprawling series. Since the first game debuted in 1987, twelve sequels have been released for various home consoles, each of them offering small universes teeming with characters borrowed from various worldwide folklores and mythologies, pop culture and countless other sources. Tracking them all down on my own would be daunting — not to mention pointless, since a long-running collection of them already exists online.

In fact, that very list — which is hosted at the website Final Fantasy Compendium — represents the progression of a project started by a guy named Mark Rosa back in 1995. I remember stumbling onto it shortly after I learned what the internet was and being blown away not only by how much these games drew from real-world sources but also how the background helped to deepen the game’s content. I don’t know what ever happened to Mark Rosa — the last version of the list is preserved online for posterity’s sake — but this list is most definitely a product of the work he did years ago.

So here, then, is my short take on Final Fantasy, focusing on mistranslation and origins obscured by the Japanese-to-English translation process.

Is it lame to say I have a favorite piece of video game etymology? It probably is, but at this point in this particular list, I think I’m light years beyond typical levels of lame. Regardless, my favorite of the series is that of a recurring, generic enemy character called the Malboro — or, sometimes, Molbol, Marbol and Morbol. (From my perspective, the name could be transliterated into English just as easily as Morbor, Marbar or Maruburu as well. The literal transliteration of the Japanese name would be Moruboru.)

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bad breath or carcinogenic breath, depending on the etymology

It’s a lumbering plant monster that attacks with toxic breath. It’s presumed, then, that its name might be a reference to the Marlboro brand of cigarettes, which could also be interpreted as giving people bad breath in more than one way. However, others conjecture that the name could come from a combination of the Latin mal, “bad,” and the second word part boros, allegedly meaning “breath” in either Latin or Greek. I don’t think it’s true. Unless I’m mistaken, the words for “breath” in either language don’t look much like boros. A video game folk etymology, I guess.

Similarly, others claim a connection between this thing’s name and a purported Japanese onomatopoeia boro boro, which represents the noise of an upset stomach. From what I’ve found, boro boro more commonly refers to a low rumbling noise, specifically like that of a rolling object. Not being a Japanese-speaker by any stretch, I couldn’t say whether this word could refer to a volcanic digestive system or not. And yeah, I realize I said back in the Zelda section that the Japanese onomatopoeia for the noise of a large rolling thing is goro goro. I’m not saying it’s not. For all I know, Japanese abounds with onomatopoetic synonyms.

Certain games also feature a palette swap of the Marlboro called Oscar. Given the characters green color and nasty disposition, it seems like a likely reference to the Sesame Street character Oscar the Grouch.

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sabin (sabine/mash/matthew), celes (celeste/celes) and terra (tina)

In previous posts, I wrote about Final Fantasy VI and the strange way certain character names were altered from the original Japanese version to the English one. (For example, I think the latter half of character pair of Wedge and Biggs sounded better with his original, mistranslated name, Vicks, in spite of associations with VapoRub.) Not all the switches are bad. The character named Cyan in the English version is Cayenne in the original Japanese, and I have to say that I prefer the color name over the spicy name.

One switch I didn’t mention is that of a character who in the Japanese version is named Mash but who in the American version is renamed Sabin. The popular belief — likely put forth originally in Rosa’s document — is that Sabin’s name could come from medical researcher Albert Sabin, who is credited with developing an oral polio vaccine, the connection being that polio inhibits the body’s motion and that the video game character is a martial artist who excels in fighting barehanded — thus, he has no problems exhibiting muscular control. Tenuous, I’ll admit, but slightly more meaningful than if the character had been assigned an almost unheard-of masculine form of the feminine name Sabina for no reason at all. Equally as unclear to me is the origin of the character’s Japanese name. Those who weigh in on various online forums on such matters disagree over whether Mash would be better translated as Matthew or something like Matthius or Mattheus. If nothing else, this confusion demonstrates how problematic it can be to translate from Japanese into English. (A commenter has pointed out that Mash may come simply come from the fact that Sabin’s special moves are triggered by entering specific button combinations, or by mashing the control pad. I like it.)

On a similar note, there’s a previous post I put up here on two other Final Fantasy VI characters: Celes and Terra. They’re arguably the game’s two central characters, with each being the protagonist of one of the game’s halves. When considered as a pair, with Celes meaning “sky” and Terra meaning “earth,” the names make for an interesting symbolic reading. Terra’s Japanese name, Tina, blows the connection, however.

(A reader emailed me with another note about Terra’s name that I felt was worth mentioning. He asked if the name could have a double meaning — “earth” from the Latin and “monster” from the Greek root terato-, meaning “monster.” This second root would actually seem to be the present in Final Fantasy VI in the name of the earth-elemental summon Terrato. As a name, Terra is pretty much always means “earth,” but because Final Fantasy VI’s Terra can actually transform into a monster, terato- doesn’t seem completely implausible.)

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your run-of-the-mill phantom train

As does any good video game, Final Fantasy VI features an evil, sentient locomotive. It’s called the Phantom Train in the English versions of the game. A later sequel, Final Fantasy VIII, features a similar character called Doomtrain in the English version and, seemingly without explanation, something that approximates either Grasharaboras or Gurasharaborasu in the Japanese version. In a previous post, I talk about how the bizarro Japanese name is a mangling of a Glasya-Labolas — the name of an obscure demon in fringe Christian lore and whose appearance is described as being decidedly un-locomotive-like. This small oddity is marks one of the strangest video game references I have encountered.

Final Fantasy VIII uses the series’ rich history of meaningful names to enhance the game’s plot. Specifically, the game repeatedly flashes back to events in the life of a character called Laguna, whose name is Spanish for “lagoon” but also allegedly references Laguna Beach — neighbor to Costa Mesa, which was once home to the California offices of Squaresoft, the company that released Final Fantasy VII. The real hero of the game, however, is a pouty orphan named Squall, who leads a band of ragtag warriors to save the world but who never gets any confirmation as to who his parents are. The careful player knows, however: It’s Laguna and his ladyfriend, Raine. The game strongly hints at this, but the names practically confirm it: Laguna, Raine, and Squall each reference water in some way. The fact that Laguna’s last name is Loire — a river in France — seems to further emphasize the importance of water names. Entirely separate from this water-themed nuclear family but equally notable for this entry is another central character, Irvine, who is named for the Southern California city of the same name.

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left to right: son, dad and mom of the water family

As if that wasn’t enough meaning to pack into or extract from Laguna’s name, there’s one bit more: Like most Final Fantasy games, Final Fantasy VIII features an airship on which the heroes can jet around the world. In this case, it’s named Ragnarok, after the kinda-sorta-apocalypse from Norse mythology. The word appears a few times in various Final Fantasy games, but in Final Fantasy VIII, it’s especially significant because its syllables, when represented in Japanese, bear a resemblance to those of Laguna Loire’s name represented in Japanese: ra-gu-na-ro. (If this little theory is correct, that final “K” apparently gets squeezed out of the Japanese pronunciation.)

That classic “L”/“R” confusion rears its head often, especially in earlier installments of the series. To this day, incarnations of Final Fantasy IV still feature a female character named Rydia, for example, though it seems fairly obvious that her name should be Lydia, an old-fashioned but not uncommon Western name. However, it’s always been Rydia , even in the Japanese literature featuring English characters, so Square is either running with the error or honestly wanted to name the character this.

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rydia, then the two prince edwards

In Final Fantasy IV, Rydia finds a love interest in a ninja named Edge. And you have to admit: For a manly ninja character, Edge is a damn cool name. In what I can only interpret as a subtle joke, however, the character’s name is actually a contraction of his first name, Edward, with his last name, Geraldine, which is far, far less cool. I mean, I’d go by Edge too. Edge’s real name is especially notable in that he shares it with another playable character, Edward, a bard. Both characters happen to be princes. In the Japanese version, this second Edward is named Gilbart — that is, not Gilbert — and I wonder if that second syllable is supposed to be a play on the word bard. Most likely, Gilbart ended up being Edward in the American version as a result of the fact that Gilbart has more letters than the American system was programmed to accept. Nonetheless: two princes named Edward in one game.

The latter, lute-playing Edward — whose full name is Gilbart Chris von Muir, curiously, with Chris being his middle name rather than Christopher — is clearly the inferior of the two, though he, like Zelda II’s Error, has helped generated one of the most famous video game geek catchphrases. The original script of Final Fantasy IV had another character denounce Edward as a “spoony bard” — a line that has remained in subsequent translations of the game despite its strangeness. Though quite a few regard the line as a mistranslation, it’s not technically incorrect. The word spoony, “enamored in a silly or sentimental way,” is both a legitimate English word and an accurate description of Edward. It gets made fun of anyway. The original Japanese insult, however, has been translated as “son of a bitch.”

Excluding a giant chunk yet to come, the only other Final Fantasy IV characters I felt merited etymological discussion were two that previously got their own posts: Ogopopogo and Octomammoth. Click through if you remember them or have any interest.

Regarding further “L”/“R” confusion, the cast of Final Fantasy V fares even worse than poor Rydia — and that would seem more or less typical for the game I consider the one “feminist” Final Fantasy game. One character gets translated variously as either Lenna or Reina, the latter of which means “queen.” A second is always known as Faris, though I can’t help noting that her name, if it were to suffer an “L”/“R” switch, would become something a lot like the English word phallus, which seems especially notable when you consider that Faris is a woman masquerading as a man. (And then some: The male protagonist’s name, Bartz, is Butz in the Japanese version. That puts Phallus, Butz and Queen going on an adventure together.) Partway through the game, the player finds that Faris is Lenna’s long-lost sister and her real name is Sarisa. Considering it refers to a type of Greek spear but nonetheless sounds feminine, it’s a fairly appropriate name for a strong female character, phallus jokes aside. Unfortunately, the game’s first English translation mistakenly transliterated Sarisa as Salsa, which isn’t a good name for anyone. And yet the biggest loser in the translation game would be a third female character, Krile, whose English name was apparently the best approximation of the Japanese Kururu, even though previous fan-made translations used the far-better Cara and even Carol would have probably done the trick.

And one of the spin-offs, Final Fantasy Tactics, seems to feature the same famous name translated in two different ways and assigned to two different characters. The game’s hero is a member of a family by the last name of Beoulve, which looks a great deal like a mistranslated version of the name of the epic hero Beowulf. Appropriate though the connection might be, it’s probably a near-miss, as the game features another character named Beowulf. Still, the resemblance is remarkable. And I have never heard of any better theories for where the name Beoulve comes from.

Final Fantasy, previously:
The whole “It’s a Secret to Everybody” series: