1828: #FFXIV Before the Fall: Some Initial Impressions

There are spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV’s latest patch ahead. You have been warned!

Before the Fall released today, opening the final chapter on Final Fantasy XIV’s 2.0 storyline and preparing to usher in the age of Heavensward. For those who have been following the game, you’ll know that major version updates such as this one — updates that come every three months like clockwork — tend to include a whole host of exciting new things to do, and this one is certainly no exception. In fact, I think I’d go as far as to say it is the absolute best update Final Fantasy XIV has received since its (re)launch in August of 2013.

I haven’t been through everything yet, but here are a few thoughts on what I have taken on so far.

The Wanderer’s Palace (Hard)

Many FFXIV players have fond (and not-so-fond) memories of The Wanderer’s Palace, since it’s the first level 50 dungeon you get to run that isn’t story-related. Back in the 2.0 days, before Roulettes and Challenges and all manner of other weekly bonuses, speedrunning Wanderer’s Palace (or WP, in FFXIV player parlance) was a popular pastime as it was a quick and efficient means of earning the “Tomestones” used to purchase gear post-level 50. It was also noteworthy as being a dungeon that featured the iconic recurring Final Fantasy enemies the Tonberries — a popular creature owing to their extreme cuteness and propensity to inflict horrible, horrible violence on people with kitchen knives.

In the original WP, the Tonberries were the bad guys. You fought a bunch as you progressed through the dungeon, were pushed ever onwards by giant Tonberry Stalkers that you couldn’t kill, and eventually killed the Tonberry King at the end of the dungeon. WP’s Hard incarnation, meanwhile, sees the Tonberries freed of the curse brought about by their King’s rancour, and in need of help from an invading force of Mamool Ja beastmen.

With Tonberries being such a popular Final Fantasy mainstay, naturally players jump at the opportunity to “Save the Tonberries!” and thus I can see WP Hard being a favourite dungeon of many people — particularly as it’s very well designed indeed. Its encounters are well-paced and interesting, and the dungeon does an excellent job of introducing a variety of mechanics throughout that are eventually all used in its final boss fight. It’s a satisfying dungeon, and its “victory” cutscene is one of the most grin-inducing things in the entire game, so be sure not to skip it!

Amdapor Keep (Hard)

Poor old Amdapor Keep has had a rough life. Originally the toughest 4-player dungeon in the entire game at FFXIV’s 2.0 release, it was subsequently made considerably easier until now, with most dedicated players outgearing it by a considerable margin, it is but a shadow of its former self.

Which, of course, is where Amdapor Keep (AK) Hard comes in. Because it’s hard.

I must confess that having run it twice today I still don’t really know how the first boss works, but I haven’t had any trouble clearing — perhaps after a wipe or two if the party is new. It’s cool to see the dungeon running with its creepy theme and a “headless horseman” boss, though; it looks great.

The second boss was a highlight for me, particularly as the first time I ran it my friend was bellowing “Whooo! BOOGYMAN!” in my ear. Because the second boss is indeed the Boogyman, and he enjoys hiding in the shadows, only to be revealed by a pulse of light from an enterprising (and irradiated) adventurer. “What you can’t see cannot hurt you,” he taunts, shortly before he hurts you very badly indeed.

The best thing about the dungeon, though, is the “gauntlet” before the final boss. Trapped in a room with fiery walls and four Demon Walls closing in on you, you’re challenged to take down an intense few waves of enemies before you get squished between our demonic friends. It’s exciting, and every time I’ve done it so far it’s been thrillingly close to complete failure when we pulled it off — though I’m sure it will get easier with time (and gear).

The final boss, whom I now can’t call anything but “Firedad” after a friend misread his name earlier, is a distinctly Kefka-esque entity with some nasty attacks. It’s an extremely well-designed, challenging but enjoyable encounter, and a fitting finale to a difficult but satisfying dungeon. Good stuff.

The Keeper of the Lake

The main “story dungeon” for Before the Fall is essentially a lightweight Praetorium, complete with overdramatic music and tons of Imperials to fight. It’s an extremely attractive dungeon with a variety of different landscapes to enjoy as you climb up its towering structure, but the real highlight is the final boss encounter against Midgardsormr, a giant and rather terrifying dragon who is so big you can only fight his head… and his two smaller dragony friends that wake up over the course of the fight.

The encounter is a good one because there’s lots to do. There are many different things to dodge, and it keeps you on the move throughout. It’s no “tank and spank” encounter, in other words, and while not particularly mechanically complex, it’s a real challenge.

In fact, it’s a good example of what appears to be a recurring theme for this patch: challenge. In previous patches, people were well overgeared for the dungeons the moment they were released, but this time around even those who are sporting item level 120-130 gear are being given a run for their money with some tough encounters. I’m pleased to see this; one of the most common criticisms levelled at FFXIV is that it’s too easy — despite having one of the most notoriously challenging endgame raids in the entire MMORPG genre — and these dungeons more than make up for this.

Speaking of which…

The Chrysalis

The “secret” Trial that was teased prior to release is a fight against an Ascian, and unlike the pathetic dickslapping you give Lahabrea at the end of Praetorium, this one actually puts up one hell of a fight.

It’s mechanically fairly simple, as the Trials go, but it’s a challenge to coordinate, since the damage comes thick and fast and the healers need to keep on their toes to keep both themselves and the tanks standing, particularly once our Ascian friend starts casting Quake III to damage everyone.

One of the most enjoyable parts of the fight comes where the boss slows down time by sucking you into an aetherial rift, and you’re pulled into an inverted-colours landscape where all your buffs and debuffs last ten times longer than they would normally. And yes, this includes things like Paladin’s invincibility buff Hallowed Ground, which literally makes you invincible for this entire phase if you pop it just before getting sucked in.

Again, like Keeper of the Lake, The Chrysalis is a challenging fight that keeps players on their toes, unlike a number of the earlier story encounters. (Leviathan in particular springs to mind; it’s all but impossible to fail that Trial unless you are a terrible, terrible player.)

World of Darkness

The main event for many people in 2.5 is the grand finale to the Crystal Tower side story, a sprawling homage to Final Fantasy III in which three parties of eight players each (making a total of 24 players, maths fans) journey through the Labyrinth of the Ancients to the base of Syrcus Tower, climb Syrcus Tower and eventually leap through a tear in reality to pay a visit to the World of Darkness.

The previous two parts of Crystal Tower have been enjoyable raids designed to be completable by casual players. They demand significantly less in the way of coordination than The Binding Coil of Bahamut does, but they still put up a fight with complex, interesting mechanics that people need to understand.

World of Darkness dials this up to the maximum though, with some of the most interesting fights I’ve seen in all of Final Fantasy XIV outside of Coil. A particular highlight is the battle against Cerberus, in which a key mechanic is one of the three parties of eight getting shrunken down to tiny size and eaten by Cerberus, at which point they beat him up from inside his stomach before being vomited back out as the giant hellhound howls in pain. Meanwhile, the other two parties need to take advantage of the distraction created by the stomachache you cause and chain him back up again. It’s unlike anything else in the rest of the game, and it’s absolutely great.

The final battle against Cloud of Darkness is a good one, too. Again, not hugely mechanically complex, it’s a thrilling, exciting battle where there’s a lot more to do than just fling fireballs at the boss or poke it with pointy things. There are lasers to dodge, snakes to whack and clouds to disperse, and while it’s challenging — particularly while people are still learning these encounters — it’s a lot of fun. We finished our run with less than 10 minutes left on the clock.

Urth’s Fount (Odin)

The Trial against Odin, last seen at the FanFest live events, is an enjoyable battle against one of the game’s most notorious “FATE” bosses that has been in the game since launch. Odin shows up every few (real-time) days and terrorises one of the areas of the Black Shroud forest, at which point scores of adventurers dogpile him in an attempt to defeat him before he unleashes his devastating Zantetsuken move, killing everyone. (In many cases, it’s a lot more likely that he completely eviscerates everyone well before he starts charging up Zantetsuken, but I have been present for several victories over him.)

The Trial version of the encounter uses many of the same things you see in the FATE battle, but by limiting it to eight players makes it seem a lot more manageable. The main tank takes a lot of damage, so the healers have a big challenge, and everyone else has tons of AoE skills to avoid throughout the fight, so it’s another one where you can’t be standing still for too long.

Ultimately, it’s not a very difficult fight so long as you’re used to dodging things, but it is an enjoyable one. It’s nice to finally lay the smack down on Odin once and for all — although the post-quest cutscene neatly explains how and why even after you defeat him he keeps showing back up in the Black Shroud again and again and again.

There’s a lot more I haven’t explored as yet. Tomorrow is a day for the Hildibrand questline, a real highlight of the game for many people, and for checking out the new “Slaughter” mode in Player vs Player play, which sounds like it might be a lot of fun. For now, though, I’ve been playing all day, so it’s probably time I got some sleep!

1826: Nael Deus the Darnus Things

Sunday night is raid night!

Sunday nights are rapidly becoming a highlight of my gaming week. It’s the first time I’ve had a dedicated static raiding group to play an MMO with, and Final Fantasy XIV’s raids are one hell of a lot of fun if you’re with the right people — people who know their stuff, but who aren’t above having a bit of fun with the experience.

For those who are less up on the MMO lingo, a “raid” is differentiated from regular dungeons and other, more casual-friendly multiplayer content by virtue of its difficulty, which primarily comes from the need to be organised, communicate and take responsibility for the things you’re supposed to be responsible for. There’s little room to be “carried” in raids, particularly if you’re playing content that’s on the (relative) bleeding edge, though if you’re playing older stuff that people have since outgeared (and, in Final Fantasy XIV’s case, the raid itself has also been made easier over time, too) there’s a certain amount of margin for error.

Tonight our regular group tackled the final two Turns in the Second Coil of Bahamut, the second of three hardcore raids that are currently in Final Fantasy XIV. These raids are multi-part challenges that task eight players with working together coherently, and get consistently more challenging as you go through. The final Turn in each Coil is the most difficult by far, taking in very complicated mechanics and demanding that everyone is playing at absolute peak potential. A big stumbling block for a lot of players is Turn 5, the last Turn in the first Binding Coil of Bahamut, in which you take on the very angry dragon Twintania, but we successfully cleared that a while back without too much difficulty. The Second Coil of Bahamut is significantly more difficult throughout for the most part, but we’ve gradually worked our way through each Turn in… well, turn, and now we’ve arrived at the next big wall to scale: Turn 9 (also known as The Second Coil of Bahamut, Turn 4).

Turn 9 is the most complicated fight I’ve attempted in Final Fantasy XIV to date. It’s an incredibly daunting prospect, but it’s a good example of what raiding is all about. It’s not a fight you can just jump into and hope for the best; it’s a fight where you need to know what you’re doing, what you’re responsible for and how to deal with the various situations the encounter presents you with.

Turn 9 is so complicated because, like most fights in the game, it unfolds over the course of several discrete “phases”, but unlike many other fights in the game, each phase is completely different from the previous and would be mechanically complex enough to be a single conventional encounter in its own right. Tonight, we spent nearly an hour attempting it, and we managed to just about get our heads around the first phase after a bit of practice and a lot of initial bewilderment. There’s a hell of a lot going on, and it’s initially very difficult to work out what you might be doing wrong when everyone suddenly dies at a moment’s notice. As you try again and again, though, you start to notice things; you start to recognise patterns in the boss’s attacks, you start to be able to predict what’s coming next and you figure out the best way for you to successfully handle your own responsibilities, until eventually you reach a stage where you can effectively run it on autopilot.

This is the way to handle Turn 9. Because it’s so long and daunting, it’s not an encounter you can just give people a simple explanation of and plough through without any difficulty. Rather, it takes time to learn each phase and to perfect the way your own unique group composition handles it. Getting things right is exciting and enjoyable, and successfully reaching a milestone in the fight — like the changeover between phases — is cause for celebration.

This evening, we successfully cleared the first phase, which involves everything from trying not to get meteors dropped on your head while ensuring that they are dropped in helpful positions for later to getting zapped with a rather unpleasant Thermionic Beam. Oh, and the main tank (which, for part of our run, was me) keeps exploding throughout the fight, too, which is nice for them. It’s tense, and a lot of pressure on everyone, but it’s a huge amount of fun to challenge with people you’ve come to know, enjoy the company of and trust.

I’m really looking forward to our next attempt, when we’ll hopefully be able to survive for more than ten seconds when a bunch of nasty golems appear and try to kill us!

1745: Dreams of Ice

Andie and I journeyed all the way back from Aberdeen to Southampton today — a trip that took somewhere in the region of 11 hours altogether. I offered to drive some of the way, but Andie decided that she would be just as comfortable driving as she would be in the passenger seat, so I was relegated to the position of passenger and entertainment-chooser. (We have plumbed the very depths of everything the BBC Radio iPlayer catalogue has to offer.)

We were both quite keen to get back today due to the release of Final Fantasy XIV’s fourth major patch, dubbed Dreams of Ice. This is the penultimate big patch in the series before the full-scale expansion drops next year, and as such the main storyline is starting to build to a climax. Alongside that, one of the principal “side stories” — that of the super-difficult endgame dungeons The Binding Coil of Bahamut — finally comes to an end in this patch, so the most dedicated of raiders can take on what is effectively the game’s “true final boss” with their friends. Meanwhile, there is plenty of other stuff to keep slightly less hardcore players occupied.

I haven’t done everything yet, not by a long shot, and I wasn’t expecting to in the space of a few hours this evening. I have, however, had the opportunity to check out two of the new dungeons — Snowcloak and The Sunken Temple of Qarn (Hard) — and play through roughly half of the new episode of the main storyline. I haven’t yet taken on this patch’s “big fight” against ice queen Shiva, but that’s coming up, and since my friends and I are yet to clear the Second Coil of Bahamut, the Final Coil of Bahamut is probably some weeks or even months away yet.

There’s plenty of new stuff to get stuck into, though, and once the initial excitement of brand-new content has worn off in a few days, there’s a lot of gear to set my sights on. The addition of a new endgame currency (and the retirement of one) has led to a new “tier” of equipment being added to the game, and I’m looking forward to seeing the impact that has on the already spectacular amount of damage that my Black Mage puts out without breaking a sweat. I’m also intending on gearing up my Paladin a decent amount, too, because 1) it’s already catching up with Black Mage and 2) I’m really enjoying the tanking I’ve been doing. With our regular group seemingly putting me in one of the tank roles for the Second Coil of Bahamut, it will probably pay to have some better gear, too, anyway.

But now it is 2:45am and I am very tired. Both Andie and I rallied a bit once we got home and started playing, but now I am abundantly ready to go to sleep and hopefully wake up rather late and reasonably refreshed tomorrow. I have the rest of the week off, so I intend to enjoy it fully by bumming around not doing very much at all except playing Final Fantasy XIV. No change there then, huh?

1729: Twintania’s Revenge

I cleared Turn 5 of The Binding Coil of Bahamut in Final Fantasy XIV once again this evening, adding another member to the roster of our group of (hopefully) regular raiders.

This time around, I decided that I was going to try and tank it. Although I have a level 50, well-geared Paladin class that I’m pretty confident in using for straightforward stuff like dungeons, complicated 8-player fights like Turn 5 have been something I’ve generally shied away from to date, unless I could rustle up a group of people I know and trust — and whom I don’t think will yell at me if I make mistakes.

I decided I wanted to give it a go this evening, however, if only to be able to help out other prospective Twintania-downers with more than one possible role in the future. And so I stepped up.

For those unfamiliar with Final Fantasy XIV or MMOs in general, a couple of definitions are probably in order. Tanking is the role in a party that maintains the attention (“aggro” or “enmity”) of an enemy and takes the brunt of the damage while the rest of the group either stick them with the pointy end (melee DPS), throw pointy or flamey things at them (ranged DPS) or heal people as necessary. In 8-player battles such as Turn 5, you generally have a “main tank” (or MT) that maintains aggro on the boss for the majority of the time, and an “off tank” (or OT) that either has a different role to perform in the fight (as in the case of Turn 5) or alternates tanking the main baddie with the MT (a process called, unsurprisingly, “tank-swapping”).

Being an off tank doesn’t necessarily mean you have an easy job, though. In Turn 5, the off tank’s job is actually probably harder than the main tank’s, so I volunteered for the main tank role, while our other Paladin, who had previously main tanked Turn 5 on our previous clears, stepped into the off tank role to get some experience there.

The battle began. Jovayne, our off tank, started the fight, pulling Twintania and her three Scourge of Meracydia enemies to him and getting their attention. I then ran in behind him, used my Provoke ability on Twintania, then pulled her away from the main pack, as is the main tank’s job in this fight.

It’s at about this point you realise quite what a different affair tanking is to almost any other job on the battlefield. While if you’re playing something like Black Mage or Bard, you’re probably flinging things at the back of your foe, as a tank they are right in your face — and when it’s something as giant and threatening as Twintania, the experience is genuinely intimidating, particularly as you see your hit points fluctuating by frankly terrifying amounts with each hit you take, though.

You have to trust in the people with you, though; unlike a single-player game, you can’t do everything yourself in an MMO, and learning how to trust others is an important part of learning to play well. I’d take a lot of damage from Twintania’s powerful attacks, but I knew that the healers would be there to keep me safe. I’d make their job easier by making use of my defensive abilities, which reduced some of the incoming damage, but ultimately my life was in their hands.

The rest of the fight progressed slowly as, on the whole, the party was fairly inexperienced compared to the last time we cleared it. We did make steady progress, though, with the notorious “Divebombs” phase, during which Twintania swoops across the battlefield, dealing heavy damage and an enormous knockback to anyone she hits, proving most troublesome, as ever.

Mistakes were made by all — particularly me, since I was playing a role that is still relatively unfamiliar — but eventually we made it through together. When we successfully passed the second most difficult phase of the fight (known as “Twisters”, after the instant-death ability Twintania uses in this phase) and were into the home straight, it was a real, genuine, heart-in-mouth moment: just a video game, perhaps, but the feeling of genuine excitement of knowing that you are (probably) going to overcome one of that game’s toughest challenges is absolutely magical.

I was really happy after we finished, since successfully tanking it felt like a significant milestone in my development as a player. I’ve talked before about how I feel like I’m actually quite good at this game, in contrast to a lot of other things I play, and broadening my virtual skill set in this way is very satisfying and enjoyable indeed. Plus it makes me feel like I’m growing in confidence — not just as a player, but personally speaking, too. That’s pretty awesome, no?

1722: Shared Hardship on the Shores of La Noscea

I had an enjoyably bizarre experience in Final Fantasy XIV earlier on — and it’s the sort of thing that couldn’t possibly have been planned; the kind of emergent weirdness that only comes about when you put the unpredictability of humans into the mix with a set of systems that always play by set rules, regardless of context.

In order to explain the situation for those unfamiliar with Final Fantasy XIV, indulge me a moment, veterans, while I define a few things.

One of the main systems in Final Fantasy XIV is known as the Full Active Time Event (or FATE) system. These are essentially “public quests” that spawn at predictable points on the map, but on an unpredictable schedule. Some spawn more frequently than others; some are required to progress in certain quests; some are more “popular” than others owing to their convenient location or rewards on offer.

There are three important things to note about FATEs: firstly, they’re time limited, usually providing you 15 minutes to complete the main objective, which is generally plenty of time; secondly, if you are standing inside the blue circle that represents the FATE area on the map and hit just one enemy once — even if it’s just a glancing, accidental blow from a weapon better suited for channeling powerful magics than melee combat — you are considered to have “participated” in that FATE; thirdly, the number of people who participated in a FATE the previous time it spawned determines how difficult it is the next time around: in other words, at peak periods, FATEs are designed to be challenging for larger groups of people, whereas if the last time a FATE spawned no-one took part in it at all, the next time it appears it will probably be completable by a (well-geared) solo adventurer, perhaps with a chocobo companion in tow.

Completely separate from FATEs is a newer system called The Hunt, in which each area in the game has three Elite Marks that players can hunt down for substantial rewards: a B-rank mark, which you can fight solo, and which only offers rewards if you have a specific Mark Bill inviting you to hunt it down; an A-rank mark, which requires about 4-8 people minimum to take down, but which offers rewards according to how much you (and, in most cases, your party) contributed to the kill; and an S-rank mark, which is much more powerful but works along the same lines as the A-rank marks in terms of rewards. We’re mostly concerned with A-rank marks here, since S-rank marks have special conditions that need to be fulfilled before they’ll show up in most cases, whereas A-rank marks will just show up regardless.

A-rank marks spawn on predictable schedules — you can see the timers ticking away for the server I play on right here, for example — and appear roughly once every four hours. What normally happens is that hunting parties will gather when the first marks on the list are approaching the “four hours since last killed” mark, then spread out and start looking for the beasts to respawn. There then follows a phenomenon that has become known as the “A-Train”, where hunting parties move from zone to zone and pick off all the A-rank marks on the list one at a time until they’re all dead, at which point the parties will all disband — unless there’s the possibility of an S-rank showing up — and reconvene again when the first timer on the list hits four hours. It’s like clockwork; it’s perhaps not how the designers intended the system to work when it was first designed — and indeed, it’s been tweaked and reorganised several times since it launched — but if you can get involved (which is usually as simple as throwing up a Party Finder ad with the word “Hunt” in it) it can be both fun and rewarding, if not particularly challenging in most cases.

Anyway, the point here is that when an A-rank mark shows up, a horde of players normally follows — and I do mean a horde. We’re talking maybe 30 or so people minimum, and usually much more than that.

When I was sauntering around the lands of Western La Noscea earlier today, hacking and slashing my way through some FATEs in an attempt to collect the very last Atma crystal I needed to upgrade my Paladin’s relic weapon into its Atma form, I happened to stumble across one of these gatherings, who had showed up to fight the giant crab Nahn. Nahn, as it turned out, had spawned right in the middle of the FATE I had actually run to this area to complete, and as such there was something in the region of 50 people standing around, killing Sahagin indiscriminately to clear the area ready for the big group push towards Nahn. The important thing to note here is that the Sahagin they were hacking, slashing, punching and setting fire to (depending on class) were parts of the FATE I had shown up to complete, so as far as the game was concerned, when that FATE’s boss fell, over 50 people had participated in it.

I’m sure you can imagine what happened a little later, after Nahn was defeated and after I returned to the area to complete the same FATE again as it happened to appear while I was passing through.

Yes, believing that 50 players being in the area, battering Sahagin left, right and centre, was a representative example of the zone’s population at that particular hour, the game adjusted the difficulty of the FATE to cater not to little old me and the two other people who happened to wander into the FATE at the same time as me — oh no — but instead to the 50+ people who were no longer present, now doubtless considerably further down the tracks of this particular run of the A-Train.

I didn’t notice this initially. I thought that the “trash” enemies that you have to defeat before the main boss monster showed up were a little stronger than I remembered, but I thought nothing of it. My companions and I slaughtered our way through them until the boss showed up, at which point I, as the Paladin — a protector “tank” type — got its attention by smacking it firmly upside the chops with my shield, and then began inserting my sword into various parts of its anatomy while my companions got busy with magic spells and poking it with a spear respectively.

I figured something was amiss when the health bar of the boss was moving very slowly despite us all unleashing our most powerful attacks. To put it in context, the boss’ health was declining at roughly the same speed as a well-geared party taking on Ramuh Extreme, currently one of the most challenging fights in the game. Fortunately, the boss didn’t receive a damage buff at the same time as his vastly increased hit points, otherwise we would have been in real trouble.

We persisted, though, shaving away a tiny sliver of health with each hit. Andie happened to be passing by at one point, and joined the fray to contribute a bit of extra damage from her Bard class. We were making progress, a tiny bit at a time, though the longer the fight was going on the more exhausted my Paladin was getting, my ever-declining TP (Tactical Points, used for triggering physical attacks) getting perilously close to the zero mark. I had the boss’ attention pretty firmly, though, so I eased off the powerful attacks and let my (TP-free) automatic basic attack do its work for a little while.

The timer ticked down. We were into single digits of minutes remaining, despite the fact that we’d all entered the fray with the full 15 minutes on the clock. The boss was barely at 50% of his HP, and I was starting to doubt whether or not we’d be able to beat it. Still we persisted.

“DIE DAMMIT!” I typed in frustration, on the /say channel so that my companions (whom, aside from Andie, I didn’t know) could “hear” me.

“for real!!!” came back the response from one of them. We’d shared a moment. It was nice. Still we fought on.

My TP had recovered a bit by now, so I triggered my Fight or Flight ability — which temporarily increases my Paladin’s damage output — and started hacking away with a bit more gusto once again. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but the boss’ health bar seemed to be going down noticeably faster. It looked as if we might just make it.

In fact, it was beginning to look like we’d make it just as the timer hit zero. Would we pull it off?

Sadly not. At less that 1% HP remaining, the timer expired and we failed the FATE. Our characters all fell to our knees and wept for the 15 minutes of effort we’d just put in — and, of course, to add insult to injury, I didn’t get an Atma crystal from that FATE either.

I don’t regret the experience, though. As I say, I shared a moment with those other people who were there at the same time as me, all doubtless thinking the same things, willing their characters to do just that little bit more damage. When I happened to run into them again doing another FATE in the area about half an hour later, we exchanged pleasantries and had a laugh about how the new FATE was quite a bit easier than our earlier tragedy. Then we went our separate ways. It was a real “ships in the night” moment, but it made what would have otherwise been a frustrating experience into something highly memorable — and, indeed, something I ended up wanting to write about at length.

I’ve got one more Atma crystal to go before my Paladin’s weapon and shield can be upgraded, hot on the heels of my Black Mage’s weapon reaching the powerful Novus (second-to-top) upgrade phase recently. If I can have more experiences like the one I just described, though, I really don’t mind it taking a little longer; shared hardships like that — while fairly trivial in this instance — can bring people closer together, even if it’s just for a moment or two.

1700: Showing Your Skills

One of the reasons I think I’ve stuck with Square Enix’s excellent MMO Final Fantasy XIV for as long as I have now — I’ve been playing since the beta, which means my dear character Amarysse is now well over a year old — is that I actually feel like I’m quite good at it. This is a nice feeling.

I’m not saying I’m the best at it, or anything, and I’m certainly not one of those players who makes passive-aggressive comments in the vague direction of those they believe to be “beneath” their skill level (aside: earlier today there was one such jerk in 24-player raid Syrcus Tower berating a newbie tank for what he perceived as a lack of skills, and I was gratified to see all 23 other players admonish him for being an “Internet tough guy”; he shut up shortly afterwards) but I do feel pretty confident that I know how most of the things in the game works, and I’m comfortable helping and advising newcomers with how best to proceed.

As I say, this is a nice feeling, and it occurs to me that there haven’t been all that many games — or indeed activities in general over the years — that I can honestly say that about. I like board games, for example, but I wouldn’t say I’m an expert at, say, Agricola (as my unbroken losing streak will back up), Carcassonne or Catan. Likewise, I like performing music, but I’m realistic about my own abilities; I know there are plenty of people out there who are much better than I am. And likewise, I enjoy writing, too, but again, know that there are a lot of people who are better at that than me, too.

Final Fantasy XIV, though, I feel like I’m largely on top of my game. Sure, I haven’t cleared everything yet — The Second Coil of Bahamut still remains elusive, though this is more a scheduling issue than anything else right now — but I have completed some of the most difficult content, such as The Binding Coil of Bahamut, Turn 5 and the Extreme difficulty version of the Ramuh boss fight. I have a damage-dealer, healer and tank class to level 50 and at least reasonably well-geared in all cases — very well-geared in the case of my “main”, which is the Black Mage damage-dealer class. I know all the dungeons inside out because I’ve run them so many times. I know most of the Primal fights pretty well — with the exception of the Extreme mode variants, which I’ve only done once each — and I’m confident I could talk newcomers through most of The Binding Coil of Bahamut.

Knowing that I’m actually not some newbie scrub who constantly needs help from other people has actually helped me in a personal sense. Being able to complete all this content and even lead expeditions into some of the game’s most challenging dungeons and encounters has meant that I’ve developed my own sense of confidence and assertiveness. I still have some way to go — I’m hesitant about asking people multiple times for something I really want to do, because I don’t want to be a bother, for example — but I’m a lot better than I was.

This particularly comes to mind with regard to the game system added in patch 2.3, known as The Hunt. The Hunt is a take on Final Fantasy XII’s system whereby you’re given “marks” to find out in the world, then substantial rewards for beating them. In the case of Final Fantasy XIV’s take on this system, there are three “tiers”: B-rank, A-rank and S-rank. B-rank hunts can be soloed and you only need to do one per week to get a decent reward. A- and S-rank, meanwhile, require groups of people to beat.

The Hunt is, frankly, one of the most poorly implemented things in the whole of the otherwise pretty consistently excellent Final Fantasy XIV. It offers rewards that are much too big, and it is designed in such a way as to encourage enormous groups to power through it rather than smaller parties being able to take on these challenging monsters without being hassled by others. There’s something of a reputation of A- and S-rank monsters getting “zerg rushed” by hordes of players looking to make some quick endgame currency, and on occasion the sheer number of people showing up for the more lucrative marks can cause game crashes and freezes. Not so good.

By far the worst thing, though, was the fact that it caused a fair amount of tension in the community because, at least initially, no-one quite seemed able to agree how they should be handled. Should the person who found a hunt mark be allowed to engage it in combat whenever they felt ready, or should they wait for other people to turn up first? Is it acceptable for someone to call out a “pull time” for a hunt, even if they weren’t the person who found the monster? Is it acceptable to “reset” a monster (by moving it far enough from its spawn point that it restores all its HP and the fight effectively starts over again) in the name of giving people who haven’t arrived yet the chance to get some credit for the kill? (In the latter case, the official answer to that is “no”; it’s regarded as harassment due to the fact that doing so not only resets the monster’s HP but also individual players’ hidden “contribution points” to slaying the mark, which could potentially affect the rewards they receive.)

Said tension led to arguments — bitter, public, loud ones, as players formerly happy to cooperate with one another were suddenly at each other’s throats over how they wanted to play the game. A number of people decided to take charge and say that this was how things were going to be done from now on, and if you didn’t follow their arbitrary rules, they’d do their best to get you blacklisted by as many other players as possible. Not pleasant… and certainly not conducive to someone like me, who still suffers a certain degree of social anxiety in an online environment, wanting to join in the “fun”.

However, the other day, I can’t remember why, but I bit the bullet and gave it a go. I joined a hunt party and killed some monsters with them. And I had fun. The people involved were nice. No-one was yelling at each other or accusing others of “doing it wrong”. (It helped that it was relatively early in the day in server terms, and consequently there were fewer people online.) It inspired me to go back again and get some more rewards. And then to make my own party and lead it — something I wouldn’t even have considered even just a few weeks ago.

Having conquered that anxiety-inducing hurdle, I feel like I’m in a good place; I’m happy with my own level of skill at the game, and happy that I can help others out. I’m also happy to have a positive influence on those around me — I’ve defused more than a few potential arguments among hot-headed players in parties I’ve been involved with — and generally be a good member of the game’s overall community.

Can’t really ask for more than that, can you? And it’s that feeling that means that, even as I have somewhat less time to play now that I have a full-time job, I’ll be sticking with Final Fantasy XIV for quite some time to come, yet.

1610: Titan Falls

Just wanted to share my enthusiasm for what I felt was a significant (gaming) achievement this evening: finally successfully toppling Titan’s Hard Mode incarnation in Final Fantasy XIV without dying, without being blown up by bombs, without getting hit by Weight of the Land (too many times) and without doing anything stupid. The secret? Zoom out the camera.

For those unfamiliar with Final Fantasy XIV’s endgame, Titan Hard Mode was formerly one of the hardest encounters in the game, taking the form of an 8-player variation on one of the main story’s 4-player bosses. Mastering (or at least clearing) the fight is an important part of endgame play, since acquiring your class’s “Relic” weapon requires you to beat him along with the other two Hard Mode primal fights and two original bosses Dhorme Chimera and Hydra.

The actual battle against Titan bears some resemblance to its story mode counterpart in that Titan makes use of many of the same abilities throughout. The main difference is that the fight is overall a lot longer and incorporates a few new mechanics — most notably the addition of “Bomb Boulders” that drop down from the sky in set patterns and then explode in sequence, requiring the party to quickly and carefully manoeuvre from position to position in order to avoid damage — and while avoiding Titan’s other abilities such as Landslide, which can knock you off the arena and out of the fight completely if you’re not sharp enough.

Like the other Hard and Extreme mode Primal fights in Final Fantasy XIV, Titan Hard is quite a “choreographed” fight that requires the party be in the right place at the right time, and respond quickly to prompts on the screen. Titan always uses the same abilities in the same order, so there’s very much a sequence and timing you can learn, though there will be slight variations on exactly what you need to do each time you play owing to people standing in different places.

It may sound odd to say, but it’s a strangely beautiful sight to see a party pulling off a fight like Titan Hard efficiently and effectively. The group moving as one from place to place in response to the incoming threats is a very satisfying thing to watch, particularly when you’re part of it. It’s a hard thing to convey to anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves, but in many ways it’s like pulling off an impressive “dance” as a group — eight people working as one (for the most part… there’s usually at least one person who falls off remarkably quickly, and up until tonight it’s usually been me) to achieve a common goal.

I must confess to feeling pumped up and happy about my victory this evening — and, now, much more willing to jump into the Trials Roulette mode of the Duty Finder, which I’d previously been extremely hesitant about making use of despite the helpful rewards on offer. The Extreme Mode primals may still be a while off before I can confidently tackle them — same for Twintania, the notorious boss that guards the end of the first super-tough endgame dungeon The Binding Coil of Bahamut — but for now, I feel I have conquered Titan Hard and can move on to stiffer challenges.

Oh, and I should give a shout-out to Andie, too, who has been playing Final Fantasy XIV and has just got her first character to level 50, putting my friend James — who has been playing a lot longer — to shame. Nice job, W’khebica (an authentic Miqo’te name, apparently) — I look forward to enduring the endless Myth grind with you at my side.

1606: A Little Pleasantness Goes a Long Way

I partied up with, I think, the absolute worst party I have ever played with in Final Fantasy XIV earlier — skills-wise, I mean; there wasn’t much in the way of ego on display, thankfully — but despite this, it was actually pretty fun.

I was running Haukke Manor’s normal mode as part of the daily “Low-Level Roulette” system, whereby you’re randomly thrown into one of the pre-level 50 dungeons with three random strangers and, depending on whether you’re still earning experience points or at endgame, earn big bonuses that are of benefit to you regardless of what level you actually are. There’s also an “Adventurer in Need” bonus for classes there are a shortage of at any given time — given that there’s about 4,500 gil on offer for jumping in to the requested class, it’s worth doing if you have the classes available.

Anyway, jump in as a healer (the Adventurer in Need) I did, and Haukke Manor began. It quickly became apparent that the tank, a level 28 Gladiator who hadn’t yet upgraded to the advanced job Paladin, hadn’t been there before, as there were enemies that he didn’t know to watch out for. He was also being very cautious, taking great care to mark enemies with thoroughness — an admirable enough trait, but he didn’t need to be quite so thorough — and taking his time working his way through.

I snuck a peek at his gear and some of his equipment was a little low-level for the dungeon we were challenging — a fact further emphasised by the fact that I, the healer in the party (typically the “weakest” player in terms of attack and defense power) had more hit points than him. Still, we pressed on, and as the healer I made sure he didn’t die as much as I possibly could.

I noticed after a little while that he didn’t appear to be using the skill Shield Lob, a useful trick in the Gladiator/Paladin’s arsenal and the typical way most battles begin. The Gladiator/Paladin flings their shield at an enemy, which attracts their attention onto the Gladiator/Paladin, and starts the fight off right, with the enemy in question attacking the tank. This is then, usually, followed up by a couple of Flashes, which attract the attention of nearby enemies. Once this is done, the enemies’ attention is usually pretty firmly on the tank, which then allows everyone else to go hog wild killing them.

Our tank in this group wasn’t using Shield Lob because he didn’t have it. He was level 28; you get Shield Lob at level 15 by completing the appropriate Gladiator class quest at that point, meaning he hadn’t done that. To be fair to him, the first time I tried tanking in a dungeon I forgot to pick up Shield Lob first, but that was a little different in that I was still level 15 at the time. Tanky boy here was nearly double that level, and still didn’t have it. Whoops.

When you spot something like this happening in an MMO, you’re always faced with a choice. Do you press on and hope the rest of the group is strong enough to make up for the weak link’s shortcomings? Or do you quietly slip away, leaving them to fend for themselves? Being an altogether decent sort of person, I chose to stick around and offer the struggling tank some helpful, non-aggressive advice. (One of my partymates was less understanding, his only utterances throughout the whole dungeon being “lol”, “omfg” and “wtf”. Great communication there, chap.) As a result, we eventually — very carefully — managed to make it through the entire dungeon intact. I was genuinely pleased to see the tank make it through in one piece and pick up some good new equipment along the way, and I hope he felt the same way.

I can’t entirely blame the “lol omfg wtf” guy for his attitude, because it’s easy to get into that mindset when you’ve been playing for a while. It’s easy to assume that everyone is as skilled at the game as you are, and that everyone has the same knowledge of the game’s mechanics and systems as you are. This is what leads to feelings of anxiety about living up to people’s expectations — feelings that even people like me, who have been playing for hundreds of hours by now, still feel regularly.

The reality is, in fact, somewhat different. People make mistakes. Some people don’t know the game well. Some people might not even really know what “tanking” actually is, thinking the “dude with sword and shield” character class is more of a hack-and-slash affair rather than the important defensive role they play. Some people might not know that you have to do your class quests every 5 levels to get all your abilities — though to be fair, the game is pretty explicit about this at the outset.

In a game like Final Fantasy XIV, it’s everyone’s responsibility to help make the game a pleasant, friendly place for everyone to enjoy. It’s everyone’s responsibility to help out those who are struggling, or who don’t understand. It’s easy to laugh and point fingers at “noobs” or “bads”, but it’s much more beneficial in the long run to help educate them so they know how to play the game better.

After all, what’s better: people leaving the game in droves because of elitist attitudes, or the gradual growth of the available base of players who understand the game mechanics and are able to take on its toughest challenges? It’s not a stumper, really, is it?

1558: PeeVeePee

I’m not a huge fan of competitive play, be it online or on the tabletop; I generally prefer cooperative games. This explains why I’m generally drawn to theme-heavy games on the tabletop — they often tend to be cooperative in nature — and why I’ve been enjoying Final Fantasy XIV so much to date — most of it is cooperative.

Tonight, though, a couple of members of my Free Company in Final Fantasy XIV said that they’d been trying out the game’s PvP (Player vs. Player) area, known as The Wolves’ Den. And they’d been enjoying themselves a great deal. So, curious to take a look at this part of the game that I had, to date, never touched despite having ploughed an unspeakable number of hours into the game as a whole, I decided to join up with my comrades Avexxis and Emma and jump into The Wolves’ Den.

Before I go on, let me explain a little: I’ve played a number of MMOs in the past, and given the PvP experiences a go in most of them. And I’ve never really had a satisfying experience with them. In World of Warcraft my main experience with PvP was being ganked when I’d forgotten to turn my PvP flag off for whatever reason. In The Secret World the areas were too big and it couldn’t seem to make its mind up if it wanted to be a fast-paced shooter or an RPG. Star Wars: The Old Republic had the same problem; sprawling areas and a feeling of extreme unbalance. The closest I’ve come to having a good time with PvP in an MMO was in Guild Wars, and coincidentally that’s probably the closest equivalent to Final Fantasy XIV’s PvP.

PvP in Final Fantasy XIV isn’t about huge, sprawling battles that inevitably continue into a stalemate because no-one knows how to work as a team and accomplish objectives together. Rather, it’s about short, snappy, four-on-four battles in a small, enclosed arena that nonetheless has a number of convenient walls and pillars around the place to block line of sight. And it’s a completely different experience to playing the normal “PvE” (Player vs. Environment) cooperative game.

The biggest difference is that you can’t rely on your usual MMO setup of the tank maintaining the attention of all your enemies while everyone else knocks them down one by one. In PvP, your opponents are controlled by actual, real people so a tank’s aggro-management skills are utterly useless. More often than not, you’ll see the enemy team making a beeline for the opposing healer, who will find themselves having the most to do in the fight — usually in the form of running away and trying to get out of sight for long enough to catch their breath.

I was playing as the healer using my White Mage class, and it was a lot of fun. PvE White Mageing involves a lot of standing still and casting Cure on the tank, with occasional breaks to heal the party when a wider-range attack hits them, or to cure status effects when they crop up. In PvP, however, I was constantly using the Sprint ability to put some distance between me and the enemies chasing me — usually the opposing tank — and doing drive-by Regen casts on anyone I happened to be in range of. There simply wasn’t time for the lengthy casting of Cure and its ilk, except when I had the opportunity to make use of the Black Mage skill Swiftcast and quickly drop in a Cure II on someone whose HP had reached critical level. It was extremely satisfying to bring someone back from the brink of death — even more so than in PvE.

The second battle we fought this evening was my favourite. I saw the enemy team heading straight for my comrades rather than me for once, so I hid behind a pillar, hoping they wouldn’t see me for a little while. But then out of the corner of my eye, movement: a tiny Lalafell black mage, creeping towards me. Before I could react, I heard the telltale sound of the Sleep spell, and I was completely immobilised for 30 seconds. Fortunately, the Black Mage chose not to get a quick hit off on me — that would have woken me up — and instead fled to return his attention to the rest of my party, but later returned to fling a Thunder (damage over time) spell at me just as the Sleep effect was set to wear off.

I started running around the arena, hoping I wouldn’t bump into someone who could stun me or do significant damage. I passed the opposing healer, who was fleeing in the opposite direction around the arena. I did a complete lap, and by the time I reached the rest of my party there were three members of the opposing group lying dead on the floor. I stopped running and watched them finish off the last. While I hadn’t done any damage directly, I had evidently proven distracting enough to help win the fight, if only by dropping a few Regens and helping keep everyone alive.

Overall, a thoroughly pleasant surprise, then, and I can see myself indulging in it a little more often, particularly if I can get together with some guildmates and form a team.

1525: Through the Maelstrom

Final Fantasy XIV gets its second major “big patch” next week, and my Free Company and I are looking forward to it a great deal. Like the previous big update A Realm Awoken, Through the Maelstrom, as it’s known, not only adds a bunch of new content, but also some tweaks, refinements and additions to the game system as a whole.

Top of the priority list for many players is not any of this new content, however; it’s a simple addition known as Glamours, otherwise known as the game’s long-awaited vanity system.

For those unfamiliar, a vanity system in an MMO is pretty much what it sounds like: it’s the opportunity to customise your character’s appearance however you see fit rather than being restricted to the default appearance of the equipment you’re wearing. There are pros and cons to both approaches: having gear with distinct appearances means that you can quickly and easily judge at a glance roughly what level (and class) a particular player is at, for example, but it does mean that everyone has something of a tendency to look the same, particularly at high level. Conversely, a vanity system allows players to look however they want at the expense of that visual shorthand that says “yes, I am an average item level 80 Black Mage ready for some hot Binding Coil of Bahamut action”.

On balance, in a socially-centred game such as an MMO, the opportunity for players to express themselves as they see fit is probably the best in the long run. After all, an MMO character is an extension of yourself, your avatar in the virtual space, and something you’ve worked hard to develop over the course of many weeks and months — so why the hell shouldn’t they look and dress how you’d like them to? There’s nothing stopping you wearing the distinctive “uniform” of your class if you still want to, of course, but with the presence of a vanity system you can take that step away from the herd, too.

I haven’t fully decided on the outfits for my various classes as yet, though my rough “theme” is that I want my character to look more feminine. (She is a lady, after all.) Mage gear in particular isn’t terribly flattering, being all baggy robes, hoods and silly hats, so I’m contemplating a new black mage ensemble for her in the form of a slinky, sexy black dress (or, more accurately, skirt and top combo that looks a bit like a slinky, sexy black dress) and some dainty gloves, set off by a nice pair of shoes that don’t look too ridiculous. I’m keeping an eye out for items that might fit the bill as I’m playing, and I have a feeling that the cloth “All Classes” items typically worn by crafters as they’re levelling may just fit the bill nicely — though I’ll probably stop short of the high-level ones that incorporate a garter belt on the outside of the incredibly snug skirt. Sexy, yes; impractical, uh, yes.

In short, yes, I have been thinking about Amarysse’s new Eorzea Spring Collection far more than I perhaps should have been. And later in the week I’ll be able to implement it, take her out into the dungeons and rack up the Player Commendations for my fetching ensembles. That or get a torrent of questions from people asking why I’m wearing crafting gear as a black mage. We’ll see!