RPGamer’s Favourite RPG Intros, Part 1
While much has been said about the longevity of many modern-day RPGs, it always helps when a game manages to suck players in from its outset. While RPGs have always had a great amount of runtime for their value, there’s no underestimating the value of starting with a bang and giving players that reason to stick around. The most successful ones have often earned recommendations that need not come with the caveat they get good after so many hours, because those opening hours do such a good job enrapturing players and demonstrating what the game is all about.
In our celebration, we have asked our staff to choose some of their favourite RPG intros from across the years. We have deliberately kept the definition of “intro” to be as vague as possible, whether it just consists of a powerful opening movie or an introduction to set the scene or a substantial first chapter. Given the full amount of games included in our celebration, we have split it into two parts based on alphabetical order, with the second part coming in the next few days. Hence why this part can largely be referred to as “Final Fantasy and friends”, but its hefty presence here goes a long way to showing why the Final Fantasy series has remained such a benchmark part of the RPG sphere.
Skip to Game:
- Baldur’s Gate III
- Bravely Default: Flying Fairy
- Breath of Fire III
- Crystalis
- Deus Ex
- Disco Elysium
- Final Fantasy IV
- Final Fantasy VI
- Final Fantasy VII
- Final Fantasy IX
- Final Fantasy X
- Final Fantasy XIII
- More available in Part 2!
Baldur’s Gate III
The opening cinematic of Baldur’s Gate III would fit at home in a blockbuster movie. As a cartilaginous door rolls open and cool light spills into the fleshy circular room lined with strange alien machinery, we see the shadow of a hulking creature with sweeping robes and long tentacles. Borislav Slavov’s chilling music floats uneasily over the scene as the long-nailed creature plucks a disgusting-looking worm from a vat filled with yellow brine and approaches the player. They can do nothing but watch helplessly as the tadpole creature is brought towards their face, straining to reach its prey, and the last thing they see before a violent cut to black is several rows of needle-sharp teeth lunging at their faces. The threat and the stakes have been established without a single word of dialogue being spoken, and the player is launched into the character creation mode, prompted by an ethereal voice posing the question: “Who are you?”
Once the player character has been established, the game goes into another cutscene. A great chase sequence across the skies occurs before we find ourselves flying above a great hellscape of fire and ash. With the scene firmly set, gameplay commences, and as the player character looks around the burning ship, the goal is clear: to get out of this place and discover what has been placed in their eye. The graphics, music, and pacing of this opening scene are enough to launch the player into the world and set the expectation of the adventure to come. This prologue pulls no punches, and by the time the player is given control, they have already been abducted, infected, and taken along for a high-speed chase amongst the stars.
The gameplay aspect of the prologue is perfect for allowing the player to acclimatise themselves with the controls; there is no time limit and initial exploration is encouraged as the avatar comments on passive interactions with the world. We are also given several chances to become acquainted with the dice-rolling system, where non-passive checks are determined by the roll of a twenty-sided die that denotes success or failure in investigation, perception, and many other areas that will be a crucial part of the game going forward. Even at this initial stage of the game, the available branching pathways begin to appear, as we can gain allies, learn lore, and unlock treasure based on player choices and exploration. The first fight comes early on against some low-level adversaries, giving a chance to play around with the combat mechanic of the game and get used to turn-based mode that tabletop D&D players should find familiar. This battle, of course, varies considerably depending on the race and class choices made in character creation, as there are varying proficiencies in melee weapons and the use of magic.
Now the basic mechanics have been introduced, players can focus on the matter at hand: escaping the burning ship. The quest to find the helm before the ship crashes adds a sense of urgency and danger. The fight at the helm is the first timed fight of the game, where the player is given fifteen turns to escape the ship before it ploughs into the ground. There are a number of adversaries in this room, including a very powerful cambion wielding a tempting-looking flaming sword, but whether to take on this beast or not is optional, as the main objective is to reach the transponder at the far end of the room. By cunning or carnage, the avatar reaches the goal in time and triggers a final cutscene as the ship is teleported onto the continent of Faerûn, where the main story takes place. The sheer level of replayability in the prologue alone makes this opening sequence a sheer joy to play. The plethora of possibilities and the efficient way the game establishes the world, threat, and stakes draw the player in for what promises to be an adventure of epic proportions. — B. P. MacQueen
Bravely Default: Flying Fairy
Bravely Default: Flying Fairy starts with an FMV of a fairy flying across the screen. She seemingly talks to the player, greeting them and telling them that she sees fire in their eyes. She says that their eyes have a strong sense of duty and the player will always see a task through to the end no matter what. She also asks the player to stay until the end, before she shows the next part of the opening. This initial scene seems innocuous at first. However, it has powerful connections to the last scene of the game, and even to its direct sequel Bravely Second. The details are much too spoilery to go into here, but it is worth paying close attention to how the fairy appears to be speaking directly to the player. Bravely Default becomes very meta, especially in the late-game. The revelations as to who this fairy is and what she is asking the player to do are honestly mind-blowing by the time the game ends and speak to its brilliance. The fairy’s words are also a subtle hint as to how to get the true ending to Bravely Default.
Next, the 3DS prompts the player to use an AR marker, although the next scene can still be viewed by pressing the Start button. Regardless of which method is used, a blue pendant appears onscreen and flashes, becoming one of the four party members, Agnès Oblige. She is seemingly standing the player’s room using the 3DS’s AR feature. She asks someone if they can hear her prayers. She tells them about how she and her friends were tricked and that the walls of the world are falling down around them. She begs this person to save her friends and the world and before slipping into a crack in the “ground”, desperately pleading for this person to become her warrior of light. Much like the previous scene, it also makes the character seem to be speaking directly to the player. The notion that Agnès looks like she’s in the real world has shocking implications for the story later in the game. Although the usage is a bit awkward, as Agnès moves around the “room” and the player has to follow her with the 3DS, it is another brilliant instance of how meta Bravely Default gets.
While not having any meta elements, the next FMV sequence is a great introduction to the game’s four warriors of light. Agnès (re)introduces herself and prays to the darkening wind crystal before it is enveloped in a black mist and her attendants whisk her out of the temple. Next, Ringabel introduces himself and explains that he has amnesia and wants to find a woman mentioned in a book that seems to predict the future. After that, Edea Lee introduces herself as she tests her skills against her master. He gives her his finest blade and she is soon on an airship to find the Vestal of Wind. Lastly, Tiz Arrior introduces himself as a humble shepherd, spending his days tending sheep with his younger brother Til. This idyllic scene is abruptly interrupted by a bright light erupting from the ground. Their entire village is swallowed up by this light and while Tiz tries to save him, Til unfortunately drops into the new chasm. The FMV sequences hereby end and the game begins in earnest, with Tiz awakening in an inn in the city of Caldisla. These scenes give a taste of what the characters’ personalities and backgrounds are like before they join the party. It’s also a neat first look at the world of Luxendarc.
The first scene with the fairy is deceptively simple, but it has far-reaching implications. The second scene with Agnès makes a somewhat awkward, but still intriguing use of the 3DS’s AR feature, and also has far-reaching implications. The following scenes are more subdued but still serve as an excellent preface to the game’s world and playable characters. The beginning of Bravely Default is unique compared to the typical JRPG. The true meaning of these scenes won’t come to light until the end of the game, but once players realize the full scope of these scenes, they will certainly leave a lasting impression on them and likely blow their minds. The music is excellent throughout the beginning scenes as well. — Cassandra Ramos
Breath of Fire III
The first time I played Breath of Fire III, I was too young to grasp the nuances of the game’s opening scene. A dragon is unearthed from a gigantic crystal, killing the miners, and then fleeing for its life, only to be captured and nearly marketed as a rare creature. Shortly after, it manages to escape, revealing itself in the form of a young boy, utterly unaware of the world around him. Luckily, he’s saved by Rei, a kind-hearted Woren who has had to make tough, morally gray decisions to survive.
At first glance, this seems like little more than a teaser to set the scene for what’s to come. The boy who was saved is Ryu, the protagonist of Breath of Fire III. Alongside Rei and Teepo, another boy without a past who was also saved by Rei, Ryu learns about the world and how to get by using whatever means necessary. The three of them get into all sorts of trouble but always manage to come out unscathed, thanks to their resilience, innocence, and eagerness driving their adventures. It’s only when they part ways that the plot really starts to unfold.
In hindsight, when I replayed Breath of Fire III after reaching adulthood, I began to fully appreciate the layers of this opening scene. In his dragon form, Ryu has no idea what’s going on. He’s awakened after who-knows-how-many years, and the first interaction he has with humans is getting struck on the head with a pickaxe. Confused and scared, he runs, defending himself almost instinctively.
When Rei finally rescues him, I could see Ryu’s fear, naivety, and purity. I also realized that Teepo was just like him, albeit a little more streetwise because he was slightly older. Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened to the three of them — practically brothers — if life had given them the chance to continue living together in harmony. As the game progresses and we follow Ryu’s journey, we discover what happened to Rei and Teepo and how life beat them down enough to strip away that youthful spark, leaving them somewhat bitter and dissatisfied. The introductory scene helped shape my expectations, particularly seeing its impact slowly unfold throughout the game and showing how Ryu and his stepbrothers’ fate could have been different if the world had allowed them a normal childhood. — Murillo Zerbinatto
Crystalis
When talking about epic openings I always think back to Crystalis on the NES. Even before hitting start, it offers one of the most dynamic openings for any of the 8-bit NES-era games. Combined with an epic music track, it first tells how the world was destroyed by a devastating war, which brings you to the title screen. Then once players do hit start, they find out that a hundred years have since passed, and the world is overrun with mutated creatures as well as the fear that Evil would once more remember the ancient technology that destroyed the world.
It was simple but incredibly effective, and few games at this time could compare to the feel the game had right from the start. SNK did such a good job with this setup that it has stood the test of time in my mind as one of the the most memorable openings made to this day. — Robert Albright
Deus Ex
In 1998, Looking Glass Studios, Acquire, and Konami all invented the 3D stealth action game (sorta) with Thief: The Dark Project, Tenchu, and Metal Gear Solid. But those games were all about small spaces and claustrophobic tension. Using corridors is easier to manage lines of sight, but it also discourages inventive play styles. Two years later, many of the Looking Glass developers had moved to Ion Storm and were ready to revisit the immersive sim with more RPG elements and a new genre: cyberpunk espionage. Deus Ex opens not in a fortress, but on a dock. You are immediately asked to decide how you want to solve problems (lethal or not, up close or from far away) and are unceremoniously dumped on Liberty Island. No maze, no checkpoints, nothing fencing off any parts of the island; just you, a lot of bad guys in the middle, and some more bad guys and their robot pals walking around the whole place. Figure it out, cyberagent.
The sheer size of it was so intimidating at the time. Back then if you had this much open space in an FPS it was because the last boss had a bunch of AoE attacks, but here we are confronted with learning how to avoid being spotted without cover, how to take out patrols without anyone else noticing, and a dozen other mechanics related to how enemies behave. The sheer amount of space also lets players learn that there are secrets everywhere: caches of gear, terminals to hack for advantages across the map, secret passages into the main enemy stronghold, and complete cul-de-sacs that end in nothing more than in-game documents that connect to nothing in particular.
Beyond space, Liberty Island introduces you to people. Every named character you get to talk to is a jerk with their own agenda. Some are easier to trust than others, but the fact that no one that you meet on your team is obviously upstanding gives the player permission to believe the terrorist they’ve been sent to neutralise when he says that the player’s bosses aren’t on the level and that what they’ve been told about the ongoing pandemic in NYC isn’t the truth. That’s what kicks off the action of the story, but also creates the baseline understanding for players as to how the gameplay and the game world work.
They say any time someone mentions Deus Ex, someone reinstalls Deus Ex, and one of the reasons that remains the case twenty-four years later is that Liberty Island is a playground first and a tutorial second. The design team’s vision was augmented, and the end result remains a classic. — Scott Wachter
Disco Elysium
Disco Elysium starts by creating a character. There’s nothing particularly unique about that, but the first indication that there may be something more going on is that there are twenty-four distinct stats. Disco Elysium truly begins in the dark, where the player’s first interaction is with their brain. But not their whole brain, just the Ancient Reptilian Brain. It informs the player that they don’t have to wake up if they don’t want to, but slowly and surely the character’s mind and body itself slowly wake up. As it does, the skills — the ones the player just spent time assigning — begin to wake up too.
Each of the skills barge into the character’s mind, attempting to exert influence over the player’s decisions. As the character gains consciousness and realizes their predicament, the player does as well. The character is on the brink of death, unsure of how they got to this point. The player is put in the same situation, overwhelmed by the voices in their head and the precarity of their physical body. By the time full control is handed over, the player finds themselves in a trashed apartment with no memory of who they are or how they got there. And that’s just the beginning of a week-long mystery.
This introduction is layered in how it introduces concepts to the player. First, it introduces how conflicts will be resolved and how players will largely interact with the systems. Second, it introduces the idea that your stats and skills play a significant narrative purpose in how your character rationalizes decisions. Finally, it sets the ground for the mystery that will begin to unfold, both the one central to the narrative and the one of the person the player makes themselves to be. It’s a gripping hook, one that gives an appetizing glimpse of what’s to follow. — Zack Webster
Final Fantasy IV
An imperial march plays in the background as a fleet of airships takes center stage. The flying unit, commanded by a man clad in pitch-black armour gifted with the power of darkness. The crew is coming back from a successful mission, though doubts creep into the Dark Knight’s mind as he contemplates his latest undertaking. He recounts the events that played out earlier…
The knights were tasked with retrieving a precious gem, a crystal. Upon reaching the peaceful village where the crystal was located, the villagers protested, with the knights retaliating by slaughtering the protestors. A bloodbath with no resistance. Genocide for the retrieval of a jewel at the behest of their sovereign. The mighty air force of Baron reduced to loot and plunder. And this is the good guy of the story!
What I like most about the opening scenes of Final Fantasy IV is how it paints a perfect picture of the situation of the main character’s plight. Cecil is a knight dedicated to honouring the wishes of his king, a man who raised him and taught him the ways of the blade. He follows his king’s orders without question, but slaughtering the peaceful villagers of Mysidia is his breaking point. You can see the regret seeping from Cecil almost immediately, as this mission seems so very different in tone and execution than what the king would normally decree. It’s this regret that makes Cecil question his not-so-regal ruler which in turn begins his journey of redemption.
I enjoy this intro because we don’t normally see the hero, whom we are supposed to support and get behind, do something so vile to get things started. It’s also supported by a fantastic and powerful theme, the Red Wings musical track that adds an almost threatening yet majestic feel to the entire scene. The opening scenario of a game needs to be profound so it leaves a lasting impression on the player; Final Fantasy IV executes this to perfection. — Ryan Radcliff
Final Fantasy VI
There’s something special about that period of your life when you can definitively say you “became a gamer”, and something so inimitable about the games that shaped you into one. Chief among these, for me, is without a doubt SquareSoft’s Final Fantasy VI, so much so that even today, looking back thirty years later, the perfect storm of the SNES’s 16-bit pixel graphics, the outstanding score, the large and varied cast of characters, and the twists and turns of its roller-coaster narrative remain untouchable in my mind, and it all starts with what has got to be one of the best — and most atmospheric — opening scenes of any game, period.
Lightning flashes, illuminating swathes of a bruised sky as foreboding organ music builds tension slowly. As the music hits a heart-stopping crescendo, the game’s logo appears on-screen, in a moment that seems more like a warning of the severity of things to come rather than a celebration of a lighthearted game made for children. After some (very) brief narration setting up some background lore for the world you’re being dumped into, the screen pans down to a solitary, snow-covered mountain bluff, a crag extending into sheer nothingness, as the music dies down and we’re left with nothing but the sounds of wind and snow whipping by dangerously on all sides. Into this scene stride three bipedal shapes, hulking mechs piloted by humans, who pause at the edge of the cliff and gaze off-screen into the distance. We learn, via quick snatches of conversation between two of the three mech pilots, that far below there is a little mountain village where a recent shocking discovery has been made. A fabled beast, long thought extinct, has been unearthed, frozen in ice but very much of interest to the trio. Any doubts as to their motivations is quickly laid to rest as the two in the lead address their silent follower, a girl forced into submission by the circlet on her head, a slave more than capable of wiping out entire legions of armed soldiers but who has now been robbed of her free will and can do nothing but obey. Clearly armed with ill intentions, the trio begin their descent into the valley and toward the snowy mountain town of Narshe.
If you were lucky enough to experience this seminal RPG classic when it first debuted, you know the magic the opening minutes hold. The game rightfully claims a top spot in the eternal debate about which entry marks the franchise’s zenith. But regardless where on this spectrum you fall, there’s no denying how special this entry is, and it all starts with how it takes you in its immediate grip and refuses to let go. Where exactly the game’s “intro” ends is up to interpretation. Maybe it’s the slow stroll of the war mechs through the icy snow fields toward Narshe, displayed in glorious Mode-7 graphics, as the opening credits flash by, accompanied by one of series composer Nobuo Uematsu’s masterpieces. Maybe it’s the showdown between the mysterious slave girl and the frozen-in-ice Esper deep in Narshe’s mines — after the creature has ruthlessly blinked her two companions out of existence — as Uematsu’s score summons up a mysterious and darkly ethereal tone. Maybe it’s not until even later, as the game introduces its next party member in the form of Locke who helps the amnesiac girl escape the mountain caves unscathed. It’s hardly important, as the initial sense of wonder and mystique only deepens as the game continues on, past many groundbreaking (and to this day peerless) plot developments that create a tale for the ages. For those of us lucky enough to have experienced the game, either then or now, it’s clear that the events in a sleepy little mountain hamlet not only make for an amazing game opening but lay the groundwork for one of the best RPGs in the industry, full stop. — Pascal Tekaia
Final Fantasy VII (+ Remake)
Final Fantasy VII is undoubtedly an iconic game, bringing the series into the 3D era back in 1997. Its resounding success brought the genre to the fore in the west, and for good reason. A group of (mostly) ragtag teenagers basically become eco-terrorists in order to stop an insidious utility company destroying the world in service of capitalism. As the box art states, “What begins as a rebellion against an evil becomes much more.” Succinct, no?
Before that “much more”, however, we have to contend with the game’s opening scene, providing us a glimpse of Aerith on a city street before zooming out, giving the player an aerial shot of the industrial mecca known as Midgar. The music swells as the title card booms, before zooming in again on a train arriving at the Mako reactor. It’s here we meet Cloud as he somersaults off the train. The game wastes no time; Cloud is a mercenary for hire, and has no interest in the ongoings of the AVALANCHE resistance group. He’s here for the gil, and the group needs him because of his prior experience as a fighter for SOLDIER, the Shinra Corporation’s elite fighting squad. Cloud’s there to fight, but also to utilize his institutional knowledge to navigate the reactor. Simply put, Cloud’s here to blow up the joint.
Set to rousing music, gorgeous graphics, and boisterous combat, this opening has it all: brief glimpses into Cloud’s already deteriorating mental health, Barrett’s gruff exterior masking his desperation, and the seeds for a short-lived friendship with Jesse and the other Avalanche members. Best of all, however, is the game’s boss fight against the Guard Scorpion that reminds fans that, despite the powerhouse presentation, it’s still Final Fantasy. Just like the Mist Cave monster from Final Fantasy IV and Ymir/Whelk from Final Fantasy VI, these intro bosses have a gimmick requiring players to stall attacks during the enemy’s particular combat stance. You won’t be spamming the X button through this one, folks!
The pace only quickens after the boss fight, with the bomb set to explode. No rest for the wicked — or for AVALANCHE, for that matter — as Cloud and company must race out of the building before it explodes, setting off a chain of events that bring the Shinra Corporation, our characters, and even their world to the brink. — Paul Shkreli
Final Fantasy IX
Final Fantasy IX is quick about setting up its constrast from the previous few titles. After the previous entries blended in modern and sci-fi elements, this one makes apparent from the outset that it’s a return to a more medieval-style fantasy setting. Under the backdrop of the performance of a popular travelling theatre, Final Fantasy IX is all about putting on a show and pleasing its audience from the outset.
The opening does a magnificent job of setting up the scene and introducing many of its varied and colourful cast. Happy-go-lucky protagonist Zidane and his pals at Tantalus get into “battle” immediately to give players a quick taste of the action, but the game quickly switches perspectives around to show that there’s much more going on and loads of stories to be told over the hours ahead. We are quickly introduced to the naive but plucky Vivi as he struggles through a world that keeps trying to kick him down, before being shown Princess Garnet’s current unhappiness and desire to escape her cage as well as Steiner’s unquestioning loyalty, if not necessarily accompanied by the same level of awareness and competency at this time. The coming together of the group as different plans unexpectedly collide pays off with some fantastic early set pieces and ensure the player’s attention is grabbed from the start.
All of this has to be put into perspective alongside the game’s incredible music. Final Fantasy IX has long remained my favourite soundtrack of the series, and many different memorable themes that get full use throughout the game make their marks early on here. However, if there’s one enduring thing about the intro to me, it is always the presence of “Vamo’ alla Flamenco”. Played over a choreographed sword fight mini-game, it really helps players feel like they are playing their part in putting together the whole show. — Alex Fuller
Final Fantasy X
Final Fantasy X starts off relatively unassuming. A young man comes out of his house boat, talks to some people who are obviously fans of his and the sport he plays. Immediately you’re struck with actual, honest-to-goodness voices coming out of the mouths of these characters. As the obvious main character runs along to the stadium, there’s more talking, this time about some guy named Jecht and it’s equally obvious that this guy dislikes him. There’s no time to worry about that though; it’s time to play!
The scene introducing Blitzball shows off how Tidus is a total badass, knocking people out of the bubble and everything. Then he flies out of the water, begins what is definitely going to be a huge shot on goal and it happens: all hell breaks loose, things start exploding, and Tidus tries to hang on in vain before crashing to the ground.
These scenes are seared into my brain. The crazy blasts from the massive invader, the explosions, the music. Square went all in on that first five minutes and it really pays off. You don’t know these characters or this city, but you are forced to watch it burn. Cutting your way through hordes of monsters, teaming up with Auron with his trench coat and samurai sword, and eventually being sucked into the giant creature that is Sin. So much happens so fast and leaves a ton of questions, it’s one of the best games at sucking you in, even decades later. Go now, if you want it, an otherworld awaits you. — Robert Sinclair
Final Fantasy XIII
I know many Final Fantasy games begin with a bombastic opening, but I feel that Final Fantasy XIII really nails it. The story begins right on the precipice of action on the floating world of Cocoon, where the government known as the Sanctum is purging civilians for coming into contact with elements or inhabitants of the mysterious world below known as Pulse.
Final Fantasy XIII is quick to drop nearly every single playable character into the opening, where the stakes could not be higher. Lightning is wracked with desperation as she embarks on a near-suicide mission to rescue her sister who has become branded as a l’Cie. As she fights across Saber’s Edge, the game introduces us to resistance leader Snow, himself on a mission which results in the death of some civilians, including the mother of Hope, a young boy who then swears revenge against him.
In flashbacks, the game slowly reveals the events leading up to this fateful moment in the government hangar. Likewise, what transpired in this opening sets the characters on their narrative arcs for the remainder of the story as our heroes are thrust together and then branded as l’Cie. In that sense, the opening to Final Fantasy XIII serves as a fantastic focal point to the story, which allows us to learn what happened beforehand as the characters experience its aftermath. — Paul Shkreli
We hope you enjoyed the first part of our celebration of RPG openings. Please let us know your favourite intros and be sure to check out Part 2 in the coming days!
“Final Fantasy and friends”, with Bravely Default being more of an FF cousin, heh.
No Chrono cross?