REMADE TO LAST
For the first time in a very long while, I finish a Final Fantasy game wanting more. It’s a bittersweet feeling. Part of that is, of course, because Final Fantasy VII Remake does not conclude the story of the original Final Fantasy VII. Many spectacular sights still lie ahead, and several major plot developments remain unresolved. We have a long road to travel — more than three quarters of the original journey — and I assume Square Enix intends to wrap it all up as a trilogy, or perhaps even a quadrilogy.
Another, more substantial reason for the game’s success is how its production values and writing work in unison to shape an operatic tale of camaraderie and affection. Watching such disparate characters bond in the face of an insurmountable threat is genuinely uplifting. The remake is paced almost like a season of a television series, ending on a confident cliffhanger that promises even grander things to come. Seeing the end credits roll reminded me of the hollow, anticipatory feeling I had after each entry in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. I’m eager to see what follows.
It’s been roughly sixteen years since I first crossed paths with the original. Long enough for most plot details to fade. From what I do recall, this remake both deepens and expands on the foundation laid in 1997, while remaining careful not to stray too far from its roots. The updated visuals are gorgeous — particularly the more realistic character models, whose expressive faces carry far more emotional weight than before. Beyond that, the fluid camera work highlights details in the redesigned world that I never really considered in the original.
Take Midgar itself. I’d never fully grasped how oppressive the city truly is. Simply tilt the camera upward and it becomes painfully clear. Imagine living in the slums beneath a city that consumes the sky with massive steel platforms, blotting out the sun. Every gritty detail conspires to make life unbearable: the absence of greenery, the monsters prowling junkyards, the ramshackle buildings assembled from industrial debris. If it’s an eyesore, that’s precisely the point.
Even the combat system pays tribute to its origins while boldly evolving them. When I played turn-based JRPGs like the original Final Fantasy VII, I always imagined the battles unfolding in real time — not as polite queues of characters waiting their turn. This remake realizes that mental image as frenetic real-time action combat, and it’s surprisingly demanding. You control each character directly, blocking, dodging, and searching for openings in enemy defenses.
This approach risks sacrificing tactical depth, but the ability to pause combat and issue commands preserves the strategic layer. Few Final Fantasy games have ever made combat feel this engaging, or this rewarding.
Narratively, the remake takes similar liberties, presenting itself as an elaboration rather than a reinvention. Much of the extended runtime is devoted to character development through additional cutscenes and in-engine banter. Whether humorous, tragic, or tense, these moments lend the cast a sense of humanity that feels organic rather than functional. Even formerly underdeveloped supporting characters receive attention — though, with one or two exceptions, they can’t quite match the strength of the central quartet.
For newcomers, it’s worth noting that the entire game takes place within Midgar — a towering, industrial metropolis where the privileged live above while workers scrape by below. The city is powered by Mako, a form of planetary lifeblood harvested as energy. But some have begun to hear the planet’s cries of pain, and they’ve chosen to act. Environmentalism wasn’t a new idea in 1997, but it certainly wasn’t the mainstream concern it is today.
In this earnest, slightly naive take on weighty themes, you control members of Avalanche — a group of eco-terrorists intent on sabotaging a corrupt power company. As the game opens, you’re already in the midst of an attack on one of their reactors. While you can control any party member during combat, the story centers on Cloud Strife (voiced by Cody Christian), an ex-SOLDIER mercenary with a prickly exterior.
Initially aloof and abrasive, Cloud begins to soften after reuniting with his childhood friend Tifa Lockhart (Britt Baron), a capable bar owner in the Sector 7 slums who harbors unresolved feelings for him. Another standout is Barret Wallace (John Eric Bentley), Avalanche’s fiery leader and moral compass. The final core member, Aerith Gainsborough (Briana White), joins later — a florist with a mysterious past who nudges Cloud toward seeing Avalanche’s cause as something more than a paycheck.
The original game’s importance to the PlayStation’s early success is difficult to overstate. This remake, released at the tail end of the PS4’s lifecycle, can’t quite replicate that impact. In terms of quality, however, it effectively turns the original into what feels like LEGO Final Fantasy — preserving its charm while dramatically increasing immersion. Characters are treated with greater care, and the story has the potential to feel even more heartfelt than before. The writing and direction are surprisingly restrained, even if they occasionally stumble into meme-worthy territory — excessive anime grunts and the perennial “You okay?” exchange among them.
Large portions of the game unfold with an urgency uncommon to the genre, delivering long stretches of action-heavy spectacle. For once, I never felt compelled to grind levels, aside from optional sidequests scattered throughout the settlements.
These side missions are admittedly underwhelming, often amounting to forgettable vignettes that culminate in routine combat encounters. Most mini-games feel similarly perfunctory. This isn’t Yakuza, and venturing off the critical path rarely yields meaningful rewards — though I was delighted to discover a functional dartboard in Tifa’s bar.
These quieter moments exist primarily to restock supplies and deepen character relationships. Then the pace accelerates again, funneling you through extended action sequences that invariably end in grueling boss battles. The result is a cinematic rhythm that keeps tension high and rarely loosens its grip until the dust settles. For the most part, the storytellers are firmly in control.
Combat is the game’s greatest triumph — a genuine series high point. Some boss encounters are exhausting tests of endurance, such as the infamous arena fight against a possessed house. Perfecting strategies by switching characters mid-battle and chaining stagger abilities together proved deeply satisfying. Every party member fulfills a specific role, and while AI-controlled allies can hold their own, unlocking their full potential requires direct input.
Enemy difficulty scales gracefully with your progression, and defeat often felt like an invitation to experiment rather than a punishment. The materia system remains the ace in the hole, allowing you to customize abilities and spells through equipment slots. These grow stronger over time, encouraging long-term planning. Weapons, too, can be upgraded with stat modifiers that further define each character’s role.
Some fans may lament that the remake doesn’t tell the whole story, but it’s worth appreciating what it delivers instead. In terms of character depth, environmental storytelling, and emotional nuance, it surpasses the original in many respects. The foundation remains the same — a personal story told through a tight-knit cast — but it’s elevated by lush reinterpretations of Nobuo Uematsu’s iconic score. Midgar has never felt so immediate or so alive.
My past experiences with Final Fantasy suggest that the series often veers into excess eventually — yet Square Enix has a habit of pulling things back together. Thanks to the episodic structure, this game concludes before the excess sets in. I’ve long regarded the studio as masters of melodrama — a backhanded compliment, perhaps, but not an insincere one. When executed well, melodrama can be powerful, and here the music frequently guides our emotions with remarkable precision.
Final Fantasy VII Remake stands as a prime example of Square Enix aligning most of its strengths to deliver something truly awe-inspiring. I would have been content leaving the original untouched, but now that this remake exists, I’m fully invested. And once the journey is complete, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to return to the blocky models, random encounters, and peculiar logic of 1997.
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