The Impact of Immersive Writing: Why JRPGs Reshaped My Reality
There’s nothing like a good movie. You know that feeling when you’re at the theater, the credits start rolling, people are getting out of their seats, and you’re just sitting there, still processing the last hour and a half? That’s what great art can do—more specifically, what immersive art can do.
I’ve come to understand that multiple factors lead up to this sweet escape, and behind every good movie, book, or show, there’s always a compelling story. I find it funny when people ask what kind of games I like to play, and I tell them: Japanese Role-Playing Games (JRPGs). I often think to myself that giving an answer other than Mario Kart or Fortnite usually requires a long, LONG explanation.
So, to put it simply, I love games with a good story.
I realized my love for an enticing narrative after starting the Trails of series a little over a year ago. This RPG series from Japanese developer Falcom is often compared to the Marvel Cinematic Universe of video games, with over 12+ entries in the franchise. Each title features its own characters and settings, yet they’re all part of a larger, interconnected story. I’m STILL playing through the series today, having invested 100+ hours in each title over the course of a year and a half.
What Falcom, and so many other JRPG developers, do so well is create immersive fantasy worlds filled with unforgettable characters, awe-inspiring settings, and world-building that rivals epics like Lord of the Rings, all coated with glittery anime aesthetics. The eclectic and sharp art direction in titles like Final Fantasy and Persona are what drew me to the genre early on.
While I’ve had my fair share of fun with Western RPGs like Baldur’s Gate 3 and Elder Scrolls, I was never really into the “hear ye hear ye” medieval aesthetic. JRPGs knew how to command my attention with their blend of tech, fantasy, unique battle systems, and hot, brooding anime protagonists that I could project myself onto.
That being said, I’ve come to appreciate the genre as an adult and really examine how playing these games has influenced my approach to life. Like any good body of work, a JRPG that has the power to change your perspective is worth writing about.
Here are some real-life lessons I’ve learned from playing the Trails series specifically:
Learning to Love a Slow Burn
When I first saw gameplay footage of Trails of Cold Steel three years ago, I was intrigued. After watching countless YouTube videos, I quickly learned that Trails is a massive series, with all its entries holding equal importance, almost like the Grey’s Anatomy of JRPGs. Deciding to start from the first Trails title from 2004, Trails in the Sky, was an investment, to say the least.
As I continued through the series, I realized that this long-form storytelling is what made the Kingdom Hearts games so special to me as a kid. Every new release in the series had me on edge, waiting for what was to come, as the stakes rose higher and higher, with the larger mystery unfolding over years of waiting (Kingdom Hearts 3…I’m so glad you finally made it out). Instead of just getting a quick hit, I was getting a much richer, gradual return on my investment. To see the protagonists from the first title appear in the 9th brought a tear to my eye. It was like seeing my children all grown up, and that feeling was worth the hours I spent getting to know these amazingly written characters.
This kind of long-form storytelling, where you spend time on seemingly irrelevant quests with NPCs who get a surprising amount of spotlight, taught me to take my time with more things in life. So often, I find myself rushing through my morning coffee or speeding through a book just to get to the next one, forgetting why I’m doing these things in the first place. Playing this series, where high-octane, jaw-dropping moments are accentuated by its slow pace, inspires me to take things easy. The bursts of high energy hit so much harder when gratification is delayed ever so slightly.
New Ways of Thinking
The Trails story is hard to put into words because it’s ever-evolving, thanks to some of the deepest world-building in gaming history. Each arc is differentiated not only by its cast and themes but also by its geopolitical landscape in the wider continent of Zumeria, where the series takes place.
The Kingdom of Liberl (home to the Sky arc) is a monarch-ruled land inspired by the classic fantasy settings of games like Dragon Quest and early Final Fantasy. Meanwhile, Crossbell (the setting for Trails from Zero and Trails to Azure) is an independent, technologically advanced city-state caught between two mega-power countries, constantly vying for control. Each region has its own unique problems and collectively paints a realistic, morally gray world where you can see events from multiple perspectives.
Because these games are dialogue-heavy and encourage you to talk to every NPC, you get an inside look at how larger global events like war and economic disparity affect everyday people. This attention to detail made me reflect on how politically disconnected I had been. I became more interested in learning about real-world history and the role governments play in our lives. Seeing virtual townsfolk complain about rising taxes made me wonder if I had anything to say on the matter in my own life.
Outside of politics, the world in Trails undergoes a fast-paced version of the Industrial Revolution (dubbed the Orbal Revolution), where airships, railroads, and eventually cars are all invented within a few in-game years. Watching characters struggle to type on a computer made me think about how far we’ve come. It was like I was on my grandparents’ Dell computer one day, then scrolling on my iPhone the next. The series helped me be more mindful of the things I take for granted, like the MacBook I’m using to write this article.
Personal Inspiration
Trails is a perfect example of how to build multifaceted characters, especially in a genre where anime often falls into tropes and stereotypes. Because the series is so long, you get to see characters evolve and react to new situations, which leads to some really cool moments. My favorite protagonist, Estelle Bright, kicks off the series as the first main heroine in Trails in the Sky. She begins as a headstrong, stubborn, and eager girl who acts first and thinks second. By the time Trails in the Sky SC rolls around, Estelle has matured into a more grounded but still determined woman, overcoming insurmountable odds and growing from every mistake she made in the first game.
Experiencing this kind of character development over a long period was inspiring, to say the least. Estelle was someone I felt close to, especially in my youth, eager to go on an adventure and fearless in a borderline reckless way. Her optimistic approach to life reminded me of who I was at my core during a time when I felt disconnected from myself. Coming to terms with my queerness in my early twenties forced me to deconstruct the persona I had built to keep myself safe. Watching Estelle mature while staying true to herself gave me hope for my own authenticity.
It’s hard to pinpoint all the ways this series has changed my life because I’m sure there are things I’m not even fully aware of yet. While the Trails series is just one of many inspirational JRPG franchises, it’s a standout in a library of games with stories yet to be experienced.
My hope is that gamers and non-gamers alike will step out of their comfort zones and into the electric world of JRPGs, where real life and anime don’t seem all that different.
That being said, I’ve come to appreciate the genre as an adult and really examine how playing these games has influenced my approach to life. Like any good body of work, a JRPG that has the power to change your perspective is worth writing about.
It makes me think about how important it is to tell more queer focused stories in gaming narratives. So many members of the LGBTQ+ space that may feel understood, or even those who don’t understand the struggle endured by the community, can benefit from their story being told. Not only to feel seen, but to be seen as well.
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