Final Fantasy XVI (2023): The Review

Overview

Final Fantasy XVI is a breathtaking achievement that confidently reminds the world why this franchise became legendary in the first place. With its thrilling combat, phenomenal cast of characters, emotionally charged story, gorgeous world design, and a soundtrack that constantly steals the spotlight, the game delivers an experience that feels both fresh and deeply rooted in the series’ identity. After several entries that left fans questioning the future of the franchise, Final Fantasy XVI arrives like a resurgence, honoring the legacy of the past while boldly carving out a new path forward. In a year packed with standout releases, it doesn’t just compete with the best; it feels destined to be remembered alongside them.

Score: 9 out of 10

The Positives ✅

There’s a certain kind of loneliness that only Final Fantasy XVI could capture. Not the quiet sadness of isolation, but the exhaustion that comes from carrying the weight of an entire world on your shoulders while knowing that world may never truly change. From the moment the game begins, it becomes immediately clear that this is not interested in being a whimsical fantasy adventure in the same vein as older entries. Valisthea is cruel, politically fractured, and constantly on the verge of collapse. Kingdoms exploit magic-users as disposable tools, war consumes entire nations for the sake of crystals, and even moments of hope are usually followed by another tragedy waiting around the corner. It’s an oppressive world, but one that feels fully realized because of how seriously the game commits to its tone.

At the center of all of this is Clive Rosfield, who easily stands among the strongest protagonists the franchise has produced in years. What makes Clive compelling isn’t just the trauma he endures, but how human his journey feels despite the scale of the story surrounding him. He spends much of the game consumed by grief, guilt, and rage, yet Final Fantasy XVI never allows those emotions to define him entirely. Beneath the pain is someone desperately trying to find meaning in a world that constantly strips people of their humanity. His character arc is less about becoming stronger and more about learning how to continue living after loss has already hollowed him out. That emotional core gives the narrative far more weight than the political conflicts and apocalyptic stakes surrounding it.

The supporting cast also deserves praise, particularly characters like Cidolfus Telamon, Jill Warrick, Dion Lesage, and Gav. Cid, especially, brings an energy to the story that feels essential to the game’s identity. He’s charismatic, exhausted, idealistic, and cynical all at once, acting as the emotional anchor for much of the early narrative. Meanwhile, Dion quietly became one of the game’s most tragic and fascinating characters for me. There’s a sadness to him that feels uniquely Final Fantasy, the kind of noble self-destruction the series has always excelled at writing.

Visually, the game is staggering. Not necessarily because of raw graphical fidelity alone, but because of the sheer scale and direction of its spectacle. The Eikon battles are among the most absurdly ambitious action sequences I’ve ever seen in a video game. Every confrontation escalates into something increasingly operatic and destructive until it feels less like a boss fight and more like two gods tearing reality apart around you. The Bahamut sequence, in particular, feels almost impossible to comprehend in motion. There were moments during these fights where I genuinely stopped thinking about mechanics entirely and just stared at the screen in disbelief.

And then there’s the soundtrack. Masayoshi Soken delivers one of the best musical scores in the franchise’s history, which is saying something for a series already known for legendary music. The game constantly shifts between mournful orchestral pieces, haunting vocals, triumphant battle themes, and overwhelming choir arrangements that make even smaller moments feel mythic. Certain tracks don’t just elevate scenes, they completely define them. Even now, there are songs from the soundtrack that immediately transport me back to specific emotional beats the second they start playing.

Combat is another area where the game succeeds far more often than it fails. The decision to fully embrace character-action combat rather than hybrid RPG systems was controversial, but I honestly think it works for the kind of story Final Fantasy XVI wants to tell. Clive feels fast, aggressive, and fluid to control, especially once the Eikon abilities begin stacking together into increasingly creative combinations. There’s an almost rhythmic flow to combat once you fully understand its systems, particularly during longer boss encounters where dodges, counters, and ability rotations start blending together naturally. The game understands spectacle, but thankfully it also understands momentum.

The Negatives ⚠️

As strong as the narrative is emotionally, Final Fantasy XVI occasionally struggles under the weight of its own pacing. The opening hours are phenomenal, throwing the player directly into political chaos and personal tragedy with incredible confidence, but the middle portion of the game repeatedly loses momentum due to its structure. Major story revelations are often interrupted by lengthy stretches of slower quests that sometimes feel disconnected from the urgency of the main plot. The game constantly builds toward catastrophic world-ending stakes, only to pause and ask you to gather materials or speak to multiple NPCs before continuing.

Unfortunately, the side content is easily the weakest part of the overall experience. While some later side quests become emotionally rewarding because of the worldbuilding and character writing attached to them, a large portion of the early and mid-game content falls into repetitive MMO-style design. Too many quests revolve around basic errands, simplistic objectives, or excessive dialogue sequences that fail to justify how much they interrupt the pacing. It becomes especially noticeable because the main story itself is often so strong that the weaker side activities feel even more out of place by comparison.

The RPG systems also feel surprisingly thin at times. Despite being a Final Fantasy title, gear progression rarely feels meaningful beyond simple stat increases, and many customization options lack the depth longtime fans may expect from the series. Crafting, equipment upgrades, and item management all feel streamlined to the point of almost becoming irrelevant. The game clearly prioritizes cinematic storytelling and action combat over traditional RPG complexity, but there are moments where that simplification leaves the experience feeling mechanically lighter than it probably should.

Combat, while satisfying, also suffers from a lack of enemy variety over time. Standard encounters eventually become less engaging once you discover effective Eikon combinations because most enemies simply aren’t demanding enough to push the system to its limits. The major boss fights remain spectacular throughout, but regular combat can occasionally start feeling repetitive during the longer stretches between major story moments.

There’s also the matter of Jill Warrick’s role in the story, which feels frustratingly underdeveloped considering how emotionally important she is supposed to be to Clive’s journey. She has strong moments throughout the narrative, but there’s a lingering feeling that the game never fully allows her to exist outside of her relationship to Clive. For a story so focused on trauma, freedom, and identity, some characters receive significantly more emotional attention than others.

The Experience 🎮

What stayed with me most about Final Fantasy XVI wasn’t actually the spectacle, even though the spectacle is extraordinary. It was the exhaustion. The game carries this overwhelming emotional heaviness from beginning to end, like watching a world slowly burn itself alive while a handful of people desperately try to salvage something meaningful from the ashes. There’s very little optimism in Valisthea, and yet the game constantly searches for humanity inside all that destruction. That contrast gives the experience an emotional intensity that lingered with me long after the credits rolled.

Clive’s journey, in particular, resonated with me because it never frames strength as invulnerability. So much of the game is about broken people trying to move forward despite unimaginable grief. Characters don’t simply “overcome” trauma here. They carry it with them. They survive alongside it. That emotional honesty gives the quieter scenes just as much power as the explosive Eikon battles. Some of the most memorable moments in the game are not giant set pieces, but conversations around campfires, exhausted silences between characters, or brief moments where people allow themselves to hope for something better.

At the same time, the game feels unapologetically theatrical in the best possible way. Final Fantasy XVI understands how absurd and emotional fantasy can be when fully committed to. The Eikon battles are ridiculous. The dialogue is dramatic. The music swells at every possible opportunity. Entire kingdoms collapse under the weight of their own greed while gods scream at each other in the sky. And somehow, because the game commits so sincerely to its tone, it all works. It never feels embarrassed by its own ambition.

There were moments where I genuinely felt emotionally drained playing it, especially during the later portions of the story. Not because the game is relentlessly miserable, but because it becomes deeply attached to the idea that love, hope, and kindness still matter even in worlds designed to destroy those things. That emotional sincerity carries the entire experience.

By the end, Final Fantasy XVI felt less like a traditional RPG adventure and more like a tragic fantasy epic about grief, legacy, and the terrifying act of choosing to live freely in a world built to control you. It’s flawed, absolutely. The pacing stumbles. The RPG systems lack depth. Some characters deserved more attention. But when the game reaches its emotional and cinematic highs, very few modern AAA games can match the sheer force of what it delivers.