Hello! Welcome to a… um… what are these called again?
I’ve been playing older games recently. One thing that’s been a bit difficult to get reacquainted with, funny enough, is the save points. So many modern games offer an autosave feature that make save points as irrelevant as this newsletter, HEYOOO—
While undeniably convenient, we lose something in autosaves. The best games make save points a respite from the dangerous game world. They are a challenge to reach and provide a moment of safety or joviality.
I want to talk about a few of these save points, how they differ, and how they make me feel. I’ll only be touching on a few because if this newsletter ever gets an actual theme, this will probably be it. It is the thing’s name, after all. Gotta save content.
Castlevania: Symphony of the Night
Symphony of the Night’s (SotN) save points are some of the most unique I’ve come across in video games. They are also the ones I am the most relieved to find.
Like most Castlevania games, SotN takes place in Dracula’s Castle. While most entries in the series featured the Castle as a horrifyingly difficult linear trudge to the final boss, SotN reworked the formula to make exploring the castle the main gameplay mechanic. Instead of memorizing enemy patterns and repeatedly dying until that one perfect run, SotN emphasizes understanding the layout of the castle and finding new paths in old locations with unlocked abilities.
The new gameplay formula was matched with a protagonist change from a member of the Belmont clan to Dracula’s son, Alucard, whose vampiric lineage shines through in SotN’s thematically perfect save points.
As much as I adore Michiru Yamane’s score in this game, the most impactful moments are when it completely cuts out in the castle’s save rooms. When Alucard interacts with the floating icosahedron in the middle of the cozy red room, the shape breaks into pieces and reforms as a coffin around him. The whoosh-ing sound as it spins and the bang as the coffin settles into place beautifully accentuate the effect. Sound design is an unfathomably underrated part of game design.
I will never be able to think of a better way that this save room could have been handled. All the best save points are diegetic, and these fit the game’s environment beautifully.
Not only are they sparse enough early on that is getting to one is a genuine relief, but they make sense in the layout of the castle. They’re just one piece of a vast puzzle that creates a modern baroque masterpiece.
Final Fantasy IX
In my eight hours (in JRPG terms, about 3% of the game) in the kingdoms of Alexandria and Lindblum, I have not once been returned to a save point because of a Game Over like I have dozens of times in Dracula’s Castle. The save points in this world are just as fitting in the game world and are much, much cuter.
Moogles have been part of the Final Fantasy series since its inception, but FFIX is the first (and as far as I can tell, only) entry to have them as the game’s save points. These iconic, flying fuzzballs will pull a big storybook out of nowhere and whap it on the ground whenever you ask to save your game.
FFIX serves as a return to the high-fantasy roots of the series after the cyberpunk/hi-tech settings of Final Fantasy VII and VIII. It wants to be a fairytale; writing your progress in a big ol’ tome is just another way the game shows that desire.
This would be a charming way to save on its own, but it is amplified by Mognet, a way that moogles to deliver mail to each other. As the classic JRPG protagonist, you are the one tasked with delivering letters to each moogle.
It’s a joy to get to a new location and recognize a moogle’s name, then reading the letter with them. All the moogles are happy to receive a letter. Well, except the one in the Ice Cavern who said he didn’t like the guy who sent it, but that moogle also called me a bastard.
So far, every letter has been something about Stiltzkin and where he’s been. All the moogles love Stiltzkin. He’s so cool. I haven’t figured out what makes him so cool, but I can’t wait to find out in 45 hours of game time.
Animal Crossing: City Folk
In the newest Animal Crossing game, New Horizons, you press a button to save and quit anywhere on your island, and if you do forget to save before quitting you won’t get harassed by an angry mole. This was not always the case.
Animal Crossing is Nintendo’s take on a life-simulation game — the game clock moves in real time and the types of collectibles and villagers you can encounter changes depending on when you play the game in real life. City Folk for the Nintendo Wii was the third localized entry in the series, and we weren’t quite at the “save wherever you want” era in 2008.
City Folk has one of the most calming save points in video games. To reach it, you don’t have to meander around a new area hoping for a respite, or tiptoe around a castle hoping you don’t get one-shotted by a knight.
You just go home.
There are no enemies* to stop you. No obstacles except an enticing bug or a neighbor saying hello. You go home, go upstairs, listen to the music box tune for as long as you like, and go to sleep.
Lovely.
*Tom Nook is a better property manager than any I have ever encountered and I am sick of the slander.
Well written piece Joe. I am not familiar with video games like you are and you describe them with wonderful clarity.
However, I do watch the VR tech pretty closely. Bought a Quest 3 for my flight sim. But, like all tech, it will end up in the wrong hands. Hahaha.
I have horrifying visions as the mixed reality component of a VR headset is combined with a new version of Pokeman. Can you just imagine what that would look like? Goggle masked ‘hunters’ wandering the cities grasping at imaginary magical coins and animals. *sigh* it’s probably already in the works.
Thanks for the fun article this morning. I enjoyed it.