I am constrained in my capacity to conduct constructive criticism. This is largely attributed to an increasing disbelief that observations can be held universally, and in turn an awareness in the fallibility of my subjective insight. That because we individually are the culminations of our own unique experiences and circumstance, that we do not interface or engage with works in the same way. Ideas and features in games that I find unsatisfactory or incomprehensible, may be attributed to a limited perspective or interfacing acumen, others instead may find immense value in that which I would deride. So I find that the reviews I pen, rather than being acute encapsulations of the works being described, are instead more illustrative of my own preconceptions and resonated biases. An indulgent expression of myself, that is more self serving than useful in the pursuit of a critical evaluation.

It is through abrasion however that one’s subjective opinion is forged into a resolute conviction. I find that through comparing my musings with others that I am able to find certainty from within my own perception. That while I may be less willing to impose raw judgement towards a work, that I hold no such reservations towards others whom formulate their own criticisms towards an experience in which we share. That because we possess a similar degree of abstraction from that which is discussed, I am both able and willing to ingest a presented alternative perspective, as well as more notably, hold steadfast to my own when confronted by the discrepancies between our interpretations. And through this reverberated cacophony of discourse, the merits and blemishes of the original work is more clarified to discern.

Games themselves do not exist in vacuumed isolation. The developers who make them exist also as a collection of memories. That which they create are imbued as an iteration upon life’s retrospection. A response to prior experiences, regurgitated reflections and distortions of previous observations given presentable form. Fan-games are notable in that their foundational source of conception is given little obscurity. Works that are proudly deliberate to be perceived as a direct response to another. And so they exist as an unbridled and ambitious form of critique. And as critique, becomes vulnerable to scrutiny, as the original work yet persist as a direct comparison in which one can impose judgement.

The Last Promise is one of the most prolific fan derived works in response to the Fire Emblem series. Its release congruent with Fire Emblem: Awakening, an entry that heralds the end of an era in which Fire Emblem undertook substantial readjustments to its core design philosophies. As such, it exists now as a period piece, encapsulating a historical perception frozen in time. It’s main author also ‘lost’ to this period, having deliberately faded from prominence in the Fire Emblem fan community relatively soon after its release. Perhaps the legacy of The Last Promise could be perceived as the distillation of an era now gone by. Yet the realisation of this passion project has blossomed into its own separate legacy. Having been developed early enough in the Fire Emblem hacking scene that it serves as a formative template upon which other fan games derive. Further reiterations and abstractions away from an original memory. The legacy of The Last Promise is not just constrained to the past, but persists in the present as an ever reverberating echo.

This is not a particularly unique story, and could be equally ascribed to other popular fan works. It is however particularly reflective of Fire Emblem as a series of games. These collection of stories revolving around disparate, and yet all too familiar conflicts. Many of these stories do not share any direct relation to another, neither through setting nor characters, yet still they exist cohesively unified in how they reflect and parallel one another. While TLP was initially conceived to be a direct ‘sequel’ to Fire Emblem 6, it’s final iteration was re-construed into its own original setting, and so better embodies a certain quality of the series. This idea of eternal recurrence, unfettered to space and time. While also presenting the notion that history does not repeat, but instead rhymes.

While there is much repetition in the ideas and themes across the works, to such an extent that the fandom is quick to assign and categorise such observations into ‘archetypes’, the context in which each are presented in are distinctive. A character with similar personality traits or ideology, when subjected to different circumstances, is provoked into individualised reaction distinguishing themselves. Fire Emblem through this recursion attempts to show that we are not isolated within a vacuum, instead we exist in relation to our environment. The way we respond to individual events, warps how we are perceived, and in turn who we are. That while we may initially exist as echoes of the past, we are nuanced into forming a unique self, through both our happenstance and conviction.

The Last Promise incorporates these ideas as part of it’s driving narrative. The main protagonists and antagonists are each motivated by a similar, but isolated, life defining event involving the death of a loved one. Their differing backgrounds leading up to this moment is reflective in how they initially respond to their grief, yet their character to be judged is defined in how they then internalise that grief to exert themselves further. The two main protagonists are particularly notable in that they become intuitively aware of this shared connection of carried grief. And through mutual vicarious observation, warp into the other’s reflection over the course of the game. Inverting their initial contrasting dynamic.

Devoid of a great dragon or a divine force to represent an ideologue, TLP distinguishes itself and rebukes Fire Emblem through having its agitators presented as entirely human. The lack of a fantastical scapegoat dispels a romanticised framing of Fire Emblem’s portrayal of violence. That the instigation for war is not that of a grand philosophical quandary. But instead of a bloodthirsty and ugly human disposition towards bigotry and violence, and responding to this brutality in kind. While The Last Promise offers perhaps excessive breathing room indulging how such depravity can manifest, it does not hesitate in presenting an appropriate response. In a finale notable in its brevity, the agitators are hunted down and unceremoniously slaughtered, without hesitation or needless deliberation.

While Fire Emblem and TLP are both in accord in that retaliation to induced harm is a just cause, preventing the conditions that facilitated the harm in the first place is not in the realm of consideration. The violent delusional whims of madmen are unquestionably enforced through their armies of faceless and nameless serfs. These hundreds of disposable and dehumanised enemies whom you are made to unconcernedly slaughter. It is clear that which enables callous war can be attributed to the stratification between those whom rule and those who serve. And while Fire Emblem as a series is able to regularly present this dichotomy through its stories and casts, this social dynamic is rarely sought to be up-heaved. The stories invariably seek to return to the reestablishment of a prior status quo, only now under the thumb of a more ‘benevolent’ authority. A transient peace that is all but expected to erode, facilitating that eternal recurrence of conflict. While this is explicitly commented upon within Fire Emblem sequel works, the consistent failure in reparation by design makes one thing clear. That these games are less interested in war’s resolution, and instead are an idealisation in how the conditions of war accentuates one’s character.

Which brings to these games a corollary idea through isolating and showcasing these few individuals whom are afforded the agency to impose meaningful change. Fire Emblem games are mechanically defined by its core gameplay systems, where over the course of a campaign you gradually accrue a roster of characters in which you select a subset to fight your battles. One could infer an idea here, that because any of your characters can be raised into statistical juggernauts, that a message of Fire Emblem is that anyone through enough effort can meaningfully exert change. These provided characters are however entirely expendable. The games notorious for allowing you to proceed should your characters permanently fall in battle. The war will persist with and without them, someone else will always step up in their stead. There is consistently however a single exception, that being the main ‘Lord’ whose death immediately ends the game. Fire Emblem invariably decrees, both in its narrative and gameplay, that the success of a revolutionary force can only persist behind the banner of one of noble pedigree. While the games play around with the legitimacy of chosen bloodlines, there is a more consistent rationalisation behind this trait. That these ‘Lords’ have each inherited a cultivated public perception that enables them to centralise people around them. A belief, that specifically they, are preordained to bring about victory. This manufactured social consensus that has given these Lords power however also entraps them. That the status imposed from their station, this lineage of memories they are raised to embody, so pervasively defines who they are that there is longer any room for them to express individuality. Instead becoming a living manifestation of their preordained destiny. A delusion transformed into conviction through indulgence. Marth must be the one to confront Medeus as his ancestor did before him, Celica and Alm both since childhood have been unwittingly reared for the purpose of continental reclamation and unification, Sigurd so constrained to adhering to the expectations of his station that his enemy’s are able to exploit and destroy him through it, Roy becoming aware in the folly in unquestionably yielding to the impositions placed upon him rejects expectation at journey’s end, Lyon so torn by his inability to grow into the role laid before him is literally consumed by its embodiment. These characters are entirely defined by their relationship to their familial and social obligations, these ‘narratives’. Their individual wants and desires superseded by preexisting memory. That which they are has defined that which they must then become.

The final divergence of TLP, and its most poignant critique of Fire Emblem, is found within its ending sequence. The two main protagonists, whom are akin to these previous Fire Emblem lords, in that they are also obliged toward inherited memory, find themselves free of their bounds. The titular promises that they made have now been fulfilled, they both independently reiterate that the fruits of the revolution were always secondary relative to the realisation of these more self centred aims. While dying, a father reminisces upon his life, concluding that if they were instead free of such bondage, that they would be lost. That to be indentured to something greater than themselves made life fulfilling, bearable and even beautiful. And in a final act insists to impose this same curse upon his son. Another promise made, we find that the insidious recursion we find ourselves trapped in is one in which we wilfully codify.

(The Last Promise is a sincerely earnest effort in creating an original Fire Emblem game. And it is certainly successful in its endeavour. While you can find fault in its relative lack of polish compared to the commercially produced works it is in response to, specifically in its tone and prose, it does not fall short in its ideas and scope. The nuances sought to be encapsulated and conveyed through TLP’s main cast I regard highly, although the complete absence of narrative significant female characters is notable. This is particularly jarring when compared to Fire Emblem as a series, as since its inception in 1990 it has been consistently able at presenting female voices. I am however sympathetic to the likely context of a teenage male writer with limited life experience is perhaps hesitant in their ability to adequately portray a female perspective in their first major creative project.

Its map design is impressively varied and creative to the extent it rivals those sold in the main series. Albeit with the caveat that these maps are overly generous in enabling you to proceed through them at your own pace. Fire Emblem discussion tends to laud the idea of maps pressuring you to rush through them. While I am less susceptible to the universal applicability of this idea, the low pressure trudge through the larger maps felt noticeable at points. Area contextual conditional reinforcements may have helped the experience, but I can imagine ROM hacking’s technical limitations making such an addition prohibitive.

Unit identity is another contentious topic in Fire Emblem fandom discussion. This idea of a unit distinguishing itself through it’s gameplay capabilities. The fandom generally holds ‘bad units’ in contempt. These characters upon joining your army whom are likely to be significantly less capable than those in your current roster. Once again I am less inclined to follow consensus, as ‘bad units’ exist in the context of the story they are in. As an example, Wendy from FE6 who joins as a level 1 unit and is likely to die against the first enemy she encounters, exists to showcase how desperate the situation has gotten that forced her involvement. Whether you continue to raise her or not in spite of her initially being a ‘bad unit’ is to enable the player to imbue the story with their own expression. Perhaps in response to ‘bad unit’ derision, every unit in The Last Promise is generally a ‘good unit’ (with Logan perhaps being the single exception), leaving units feeling less individually distinctive.

Its soundtrack, a compilation of tracks from other video games, converted into the GBA soundfont is a delight to behold, although perhaps tonally jarring. More practically however, these tracks serve as faux citations of the other inspiring works prominent in the mind of the designer imbued in the game’s development. ‘His World’ of Shadow the Hedgehog fame, being used as the leitmotif of Kelik is one of the more obvious tells on a major thematic inspirations behind the character.

While I impulsively deride fan works as creatively inhibiting, through having much of its design considerations outsourced to the source material. Fire Emblem as a series is formed around the reuse of a specific story and game play template. A fan-work using the same template, and imbuing it enough with their own vision, becomes indistinguishable from the originals. Another iteration of an infinite recursion. Combined with its genuinely competently game design, I enjoyed playing through The Last Promise more than many ‘actual’ Fire Emblem games and would legitimise the claim it exists as its own entry within the series. Although a fairly obvious endorsement, I wholeheartedly recommend The Last Promise it if you specifically liked the GBA Fire Emblem games)