All That I Value: A Love Letter to Atelier Ryza

Have you ever tried to describe your values in art before? I write about art as a hobby, and have taken part in various communities for years, and although a few common words pop up when I describe my favorites, I find it difficult to really describe my values. Art is too complicated and nuanced, and people even more so, to fit something so vague so neatly into human verbiage. It's the sort of thing I feel like I can do nothing but point to and say "that, that is what I value." And most people won't really get it, unless they've shared my experiences they'll need explanation to make sense of things and empathize with my perspective. Full of Bias is a place to fulfill that, but it's hard to talk about art in that sort of detail, to be evocative enough even for those who have experienced the piece I'm talking about. I'm a "thought dumper" of a writer; it's a strength and a weakness, but it's the only way I ever feel like I'm communicating anything substantial about my experiences. 

Earlier this year, I played Atelier Ryza: Ever Darkness and the Secret Hideout almost on a whim. I was recommended the game after finishing a certain anime, having expressed that I loved stories in which characters live through large swaths of time. I was told that the trilogy involved watching the characters grow up, and even that some would become parents apparently? I can say a lot about the stress I was under, having just started important classes for school and ultimately began a mental health spiral I'm still feeling the effects of. Certainly, that scenario is part of why a game as comfy as this one resonated with me so strongly. But turning on this game and engaging with it for the first time, I was only struck by the thought that the game was made for me, that "this, this is what I value." And I fell in love with it, head over heels. 

It's a special feeling to find something that isn't simply great, but which resonates so specifically with your own values in terms of priorities, tone, themes, and mechanics. I've sat on this for the past 6 months, and have only thought more and more about this wonderful game. If I'm to give vision to "this, this is what I value," then I want to take the time to do so for something I feel deserves it so. I hope to paint a vivid picture of what I experienced through this work through my structured thought dumps. Much as the game is about bridging gaps of understanding, perhaps I can bridge our gaps to foster just a little more empathy in the world. 

A Sense of Place

Imagine for a moment a place from your childhood. Just how vividly do you remember the details of that place? Think about the big picture details first. Do you remember the layout of the place, how to get to each distinct location, the path to each and every room, where the streets and sidewalks are? Do you remember the color scheme, the materials buildings were made of, the patterns on the furniture? Do you remember the most common activities people did there, the overall attitude of the place, and how it "feels" to live there? Do you remember how it changed over time?

Let's make the details smaller now. Do you remember any distinct impressions something made on you? Like, maybe there was a part of the street that always seemed to need paving, or maybe there was a cul-de-sac the kids would always play around, or maybe the smell of the rain was really unique somehow. Do you remember the individual people who lived around you? Maybe you were never really close with any of them, but some of them were people you knew long enough to say hi to and catch up real quick whenever you'd pass by, so you always knew what your neighbors were up to, and them for you. Maybe you remember what the sun looked like going through your window, and can still feel it's warmth from so long ago. Maybe you remember a particular tree you used to climb, and could still go up the exact same route today. Maybe you remember rivalries between the attitudes of your peers and the adults around you. Or maybe you remember some bizarre yellow semi-circles on the floor that show the path a door will open. 

When it comes to building a setting, these are the sorts of details I like to focus on. An accumulation of these sorts of details make a place come to life. It's not just world history and decades of culture shaping a community, but also the distinct impression it leaves on you. It's the smells, sights, and atmosphere of a location that creates a living, breathing world with a real sense of place. It's also the distinct impression of the locals, your relationships with each of them and the bits and pieces of their lives you get to partake in that make me intimately familiar with a setting, and prioritizing those aspects deepens my connection. This was my first hook into Atelier Ryza, the setting left a very distinct impression on me. 

The game has an extraordinarily low-key beginning. Reisalin Stout, aka Ryza, is an eccentric and energetic tomboy who, alongside her childhood friends Lent and Tao, ditches work on her father's farm to go on random adventures around her small island village and cause lots of mischief, much to the chagrin of the town guardian Agatha who keeps them in check. Having spent all of her life on a tiny island with limited interactions with the outside world, she feels restless and craves a sense of adventure, or anything other than chores and family time to direct her relentless but aimless energy. After discovering an abandoned boat on a cove near her house, she takes her friends to a secluded area by the mainland every day as a way to simulate an adventure grander than the farming her parents want her to help with. And this is essentially the first few hours of the game. Alongside character introductions and some tutorials, the game starts out on you just going on a few minor adventures, and exploring the humble island village that the characters call home. 

I've seen some who say this is a slow start, but I was already captivated from this point because, in each of these small quests, the locations get to make a distinct impact. The first thing you'll do in the game is to leave your house, and once you do so, the camera will show various locations around the neighborhood, set to music that sounds like this. The orange glow of the rising sun, some bits of morning mist, the earthy color palette, and the delicate build-up and release of the strings and flutes in the intro give the impression of a cozy and humble place waking up to start the day. A caption pops up to say that this is the Rasen District, and immediately I had this connection in my mind. You can walk around, and if you want, you can immediately go to the farm or to Boden district, but if you pay attention and explore a bit, you'll find a location with a distinct sense of place. There are clothes racks with drying clothes, there are children playing over by a river, and the houses are have distinct architecture. There are dirt paths but some sections clearly made of stone, and the land twists around and has natural bridges you can get lost in. Close to Tao's house is a cliff with a flowerbed letting you overlook the ocean, and behind your house is a path full of rainbow grapes that leads to a small beach area. 

I described all of this from memory, many months removed from having played the game (though admittedly having recently finished the anime adaptation, though that lacks most of this detail). There is an atmosphere to the Rasen district, a cozy and undisturbed place but where the inhabitants have somewhat of a restless energy. There are a lot of kids, most of all the protagonist and her friends who are the most restless of all. One kid stands on a tree stump and talks about having powers, and another sits on the side of a bridge and wonders about the town's water. But you can go to the nearby farm and find all the adults working hard, alongside the site of goats lazing around, and a view overlooking the ocean. The ocean surrounds at various places, so one can tell this is an island long before it's ever said explicitly. It has so many distinctive locations. That bridge area I mentioned earlier is a place I could never fully remember the path around, and I can vividly imagine Klaudia getting lost on that path whenever she came to visit one of the others exactly how I did. Though Ryza and the other islanders have lived there for so long that they navigate it effortlessly. But I honestly didn't mind getting lost, because it was so beautiful and so comfy. With such beautiful and calming music backing such beautiful scenery, it was hard to ever get frustrated at that winding path. 

Eventually you can make your way to the other locations around the island: the farming district with a giant goat pasture and which always seems to be busy, the bustling Boden District with the giant fountain at the center, surrounded by small stairs and with small wooden bridges on either side; the Old Town that looks like it's falling apart with plants growing on cracked brick buildings with parts scraped off, and wood left all around, even though it hosts the school and Klaudia's mansion and seems to be getting by; the Kurken Port that's even more bustling than that Boden District, full of shops from traveling merchants and tourists coming to see this strange isolated culture; and the Treppe Hill which consists exclusively of a long, winding path up to a giant mansion which all makes it seem like the mansion rules over everything there, though the waterfall and well hidden on the sides still give it character. I remember each and every location in this sort of detail. I can tell you about the strange little side paths that lead to hidden forest areas, and the weird stairs that led into water or some reason, and the cemetery in the old town where people claim a mysterious ghost wanders around a nighttime. 

Each of these tiny but distinct details injects a sliver more life into the town. On their own, they don't mean too much, but when taken together, it adds up to form a setting that feels lived in. It's through these details that a sense of history and culture arises. There's a distinct class divide, with the Brunnen family mansion sitting atop Treppe Hill above everyone else, a strong middle class for those who can own land to farm goods and contribute the island's few exports, and the Old Town that looks like it's just getting by as best it can, though even remnants of that divide exist through the mansion that Klaudia's family ends up taking residence in. The middle class, including Ryza's family, lives in an area with fertile soil, full of dirt and where the river passes through. The Old Town has few such areas, which are limited to tiny spaces, and the beach nearby is full of rocks, shells, and old ruins, so not the best area for farming. Even the clothes characters wear feel distinct, they have an 1800's look to them, a lot of cloth dresses, boots, vests with belts, and generally the sorts of outfits you might expect to find on an island farming village without much modern convenience. There's also an upper middle class that lives in the Boden District, next to the pretty fountain, some convenient shops, and the doctor's office. It's residents get by on more specialized skills like handiwork, or are otherwise on the older side. 

Each of these locations isn't only seen in one way though. The game has a robust system of time, as well as various forms of weather, which impact each location thoroughly. The scene I painted of the Rasen District waking up in the morning was, well, only the morning scene. When noon hits, the sunlight becomes it's most bright, and the earthy oranges become closer to the bright yellow-ish color we associate with the sun at it's peak. The color softens up again in the evening, and as things start winding down, the delicate "waking up" music track dissolves into this softer version, who's calming piano intro and backing track makes the same bassoon and oboe melody the original track had feel more like they're packing up for the day. The strings build up again, but the composition feels more like a lite evening bustle than a morning wake-up. Once nighttime hits, everyone else is asleep, and you can roam the entire island yourself. There's something melancholy about seeing the once bustling farm at 3 in the morning. It's calmer, but somehow less "sleepy" if that makes sense. There's no longer life there, and alongside the music track, it gives me that same feeling I get when I walk around my own neighborhood late at night, surrounded only by animal noises and street lights. 

On top of difference visuals and music for different times of day, each location can also be seen in sunny, rainy, or cloudy weather. They're small touches, but they still add to the overall sense of place. In the early morning, you'll run through light, misty fog on your way to the Boden District, and seeing the hidden forest areas with ruins in the rain captures an entirely different mood than in the sun. If I had to criticize anything about this particular detail, it would be that the NPCs don't really change alongside the weather. It would be cool if, during the rain, they were found under shade, and fewer people were walking around, or maybe they all wore rain coats. This detail doesn't feel quite fully thought out, but these nitpicks aren't immersion breaking, and what it adds in setting variety more than makes up for it. 

Just as we can view each location in so many different ways, we have many different interactions with the inhabitants of Kurken Island. Quite possibly my very favorite thing about Atelier Ryza is how it handles side quests. There are a few residents you'll find in places around the island who you can talk to and sometimes take requests from. But these interactions are not staged as game related side quests. When you stumble upon them, Ryza talks to them as if you're seeing the middle of their arcs, with no formal introduction. Having lived on the island her entire life, Ryza already has long established relationships with these people. Your interactions with them are typically just mundane conversations, Ryza just walks up and says hi, and they ask about each other's lives. They feel like neighbors catching up on each other's lives, just passing by on the way home and saying hi real quick before going on their way, the way people tend to do. During those conversations, the character might mention something they're doing or thinking about, prompting Ryza to offer help with her alchemy, which later builds rapport as they start to rely on her more proactively. 

However, just as many conversations don't have any actual quest to complete at all. This is what made it feel so natural. You might come across a character who could have a side quest, only to exchange pleasantries, briefly talk about your day, and say goodbye. While "quests" net you genuine rewards, these small interactions net you a negligible amount of in-game currency, so your motivation to do them is mostly intrinsic. I loved getting to know each of these characters through the slice of Ryza's relationship with them I get to see. Ryza's dialogue with them implies more intimacy than we get to see on screen, like she has experiences with each of them we'll never know about, but they don't talk about them because it's not relevant to the conversation. Nonetheless, I feel like I got to know a lot about these characters and Ryza's relationship with them, which only added to how alive the setting feels. 

Barbara is an old woman who lives in the Boden District. She often sits over by one of the wooden bridges, and reminisces about a youth that was similar to what Ryza has with her friends. She implies she's coping with a sense of mortality, and there are a few unfulfilled regrets from that youth, even if she's content overall. She gives the sense that she enjoys Ryza's company, since she doesn't really have much else to do anyway. Daniel is an adventurer who leaves the island for months at a time. For years, Ryza has met him at the port whenever he returns from adventure, and excitedly asks him to tell stories about his adventures. Given that Ryza is so desperate to leave the island for her own adventures, it's clear that she's using his stories to fuel her imagination and vicariously live through her own adventures. Daniel seems fond of Ryza, like she's a daughter excited to hear about her father's adventures after coming home, it's very cute. 

Gina is a young girl who's father is an eccentric reporter. His job gives him a lot of knowledge about the town's happenings, so it's tough to hide things from him, and what young girl doesn't want to hide things from her father? Gina wants to write a book, and she uses Ryza's life, advice, and stories, as resources for her work, and she confides in Ryza for advice about her father. She feels like a younger sister who Ryza gets to watch grow up, but who's also more mature than Ryza herself in most ways. It's a very "sibling" type of bond, but not the rowdy fighting sort of sibling bond, it's more respectful but with Gina not quite realizing Ryza's reputation. On the other hand, Romy is a merchant from the mainland who feels more like an older sister. She teases Ryza at every opportunity, but always in a way that ends up being helpful to her. She feels like she's looking out for Ryza, but in a way that makes it feel like she's making fun of her, and always with profits in mind. 

Simply checking in with my delightful neighbors every now and then just to catch up is a joy that makes the town feel more alive. These relationships are written in such a way that it feels like every person in town is aware of everyone else, giving the impression of a tight knit small village where gossip gets around quickly. It makes the setting feel intimate, everyone participates in everyone else's life and no one is so distant they can't check up on their neighbors. Everyone in the town works together a little bit, it's a tight web of people relying on the skills of others, which makes extra sense given it's isolationist policies. When people are so distrusting of outsiders, they mostly rely on specialized skills built by generations of families. 

But what makes these quests extra special to me is the ways in which they effect the setting on a larger scale, and tie into each other in effective ways. Patrick was a clothes maker who once made most of the island's clothing, including Ryza's outfit. An inability to find a successor in his old age led to him considering shutting down his shop, but you can bring Rolf, a handyman struggling to find work, to come and help bring the shop back, and eventually turn those clothes into another island export. Likewise, Bascilla once tasted pudding on the mainland and wants to recreate the recipe. With only access to the island's version of ingredients, she forms a unique pudding recipe that quickly proves itself popular, and becomes known about on the mainland. Both of these quests bring tourists to Kurken Island, and NPCs will even talk about visiting to try some pudding that's all the rage. 

This tight web of relationships also ties in more personal ways. Patrick and Barbara are around the same age, so I had always wondered if they knew each other previously. Come to find out that they have a surprisingly involved relationship, the details of which I won't spoil, but I will say that the conclusion to their shared stories is one of my favorite moments in the game. Likewise, when Edward the doctor is looking for signs of his forgotten past, Daniel's connections on the mainland end up being helpful for him. It's in this way that these relationships don't feel isolated, but the island town feels like a history in the making. These residents all know each other well, and they don't exist as standalone stories but as part of a web of relationships that eventually connects everyone on the island. 

This web of interconnected generations is also felt in the generational divides that can be felt between island residents, Ryza and her friends most of all. Various characters talk about folk tales and songs that give instructions about places to avoid and things to do in certain scenarios. Those folk tales are themselves great bits of historical details, but they are also more directly plot relevant. But the children are much more curious towards these folk tales, not having had it drilled by adults that they must keep to island traditions. Ryza and her friends don't care too much about the thought of breaking traditions, and the kids also never seem to care much beyond a "you shouldn't do that," while adults are steadfast in strictly forbidding it. When the kids grow up, they might come to be like their parents in that regard. 

It's in this accumulation of details that Kurken Island has a sense of place. It's not some random whatever island, it's a comfy and humble village with tight knit relationships spanning back many generations of families who pass down specialized skills from farming to cloth making. It tells of various personal stories that tie everyone together, as well as a subtle class divide that permeates every area. We can remember the buildings, the clothing, what NPCs are doing, various special locations, the general layout, what it looks and feels like at different times of the day, what changes occur over time, etc.. It's a place that I can close my eyes and imagine in vivid detail, in much the same way as I do the elementary school I went to as a child, and will one day do for the neighborhood I currently live in. 

And aaaalllllll of that that is solely for Kurken Island, one singular location of many you can explore throughout the game. And it's honestly not even all of it, though I'll get to the rest when I talk about alchemy. While this is the most important location in the game and thus gets the most details, other areas in the game match it in terms of atmosphere and various distinctive qualities. And what they lack in the mundane subtleties of Kurken Island, they make up for in greater narrative relevance and more poignant imagery.

For example, one of my favorite locations in the game is the Holy Pynnor Tower. This is one of the locations that a folk tale says to avoid at all costs, but you always see it in the background at the path on the mainland, and Lent is desperate to get there from the very start of the game. As soon as you get quests, "get to the tower in the north" is on your quest list, but it's impossible to get there at the start. Once you reach the tower, it feels like a momentous occasion, bolstered by the fact that each floor of the tower is a new quest you can beat right then and there. But on your way to the tower, it becomes clear that it was a final bastion of defense in a war against indescribably strong enemies, where the tower failed to protect them. As you ascend the tower, you read the desperate letters of long dead soldiers. They hope the letters will reach their families, but given where you've found them, they're forever unread. Each side of the tower has a small alcove, where a phantom stares solemnly out the window. Where other enemies in the game will chase you within a large range, these phantoms will not attack you unless you get directly in front of them; they're too busy mourning their lives and their loved ones to care about the activities of the living. I happened to get to the tower in the evening, and so these alcoves were drenched in ominous red lighting filtered through the windows. My time in this sad location was backed by the nighttime version of the soundtrack, a melancholy track that feels to me like it's longing for something. Climbing the Holy Pynnor Tower, this lumbering monument that's always been in the background as a place to reach in a moment of triumphant growth, only filled me with overwhelming sadness. Whatever triumph we might have expected to feel slowly dissipated just by experiencing this lonely grave full of mourning specters. 

These sorts of details are not superfluously detailed bits of worldbuilding for those who enjoy finding details, and they do more than set a memorable atmosphere. They are a part of the ethos of the game's story. The player is encouraged to explore the setting as much as they can. Each location you find is used to fill out a map, and if you can find every distinct area in a given location, you get a reward, and you can have a character write their impressions in a travel log. Each character writes in their own style, and their impressions are perfectly representative of who they are. I love how Tao talks about the tutorial stage Pixie Forest as if it's a den full of horrifying monsters, while Lila's logs are always short, straight, and to-the-point. They're wonderful bits of characterization that you'd miss if you didn't go out of your way to explore every nook and cranny of each of the game's areas. 

If you didn't want to explore, you'd be in Ryza's shoes at the start of the game. Ryza has been living on Kurken Island for her entire life. She feels as if she's seen everything the island has to offer, and that nothing there is worth the effort. It's all mundane to her, she's seen whatever beautiful sights people can point out a million times. She doesn't understand why anyone would want to move from the mainland to the island, and finds herself unable to change her perspective or to find the motivation to look at her world in new ways. When she gets into alchemy, it forces her to change her approach. 

For alchemy, you need various ingredients of various types, and you need strong knowledge of where to find them. Many items might also be superficially extremely similar, so a keen eye for details is required for the craft. To Ryza, "a flower is a flower is a flower," but to be a good alchemist, you can't just throw any old flower into a pot and get the same thing. Gathering ingredients forces her, and thus forces the player, to become intimately familiar with each location. Before I had an axe for chopping down wood, I had to know where all the barrels and boxes on the island were so that I could break them for their wood. You have to know what each flower looks like or you'll waste time collecting stuff you don't want or need, and you have to see the minor differences in enemy designs or spend time and resources fighting something unnecessarily. You will, by necessity, come to know the details of the island, and it's flora and fauna, yet another worldbuilding detail that breathes life into the setting. By the end of the game, our view of what Kurken Island literally, physically is completely changes, representing that change in worldview. 

The idea of learning to see the same world from a new perspective, and to think through every detail you come across, is vital to the plot and themes of Atelier Ryza, and it's baked into the very premise and setting. At the start of the game, Ryza will feel like she knows everything about the island, and by the end, she will realize she knew nothing about it at all. And she only learns because the player leads her through the tiny details of every location, every character, and every plant or animal. These details were placed for you to notice, and the game inches you into noticing them. To enjoy the gameplay loop is to enjoy being in the setting. If gathering, crafting, talking to townspeople, and using your materials on the field isn't addicting (in the same way it is for Ryza herself), the player has no reason to care about these details. But due to the game's cozy atmosphere and gorgeous setting, I loved the act of existing in the setting for it's own sake, and found the gameplay loop therapeutic. Crafting gives me something to do, but I didn't even need it. Standing in the farm in the early morning was it's own reward, and the characters slowly come to that same realization. If you've come to value each of the tiny details that make Kurken Island such a beautiful place, Ryza's arc as a character will surely resonate. 

A Coming-of-Age: The Gate to Adulthood

Growing up is a series of seeing the world in new ways. Part of that is in the physical sense, as described in the previous section. Through alchemy, Ryza is forced to contend with the details that make every object special in it's own way, and worth further consideration than you'd initially give. The adults in the village who each have their own specialties surely went through this in the past, be it with Patrick learning the ins and outs of colored dyes, or Peter knowing about which parts of the story is best to follow for a good report. But there's also a more emotional or rational understanding, to see the world as a complex and nuanced place that dwarfs the innocent and idealistic mind of a child. To a child, adults see the world in an alien way, and to grow up is to bridge that gap of understanding. To this end, growing up has a point of transition, a moment where one realizes they can never return to the blissfully ignorant past of childhood no matter how much they pray. 

At the start of Atelier Ryza, our childish protagonists overhear important adults talking about global politics that go over their head. These issues of trade deals, class divides, stalwart traditions, town exports, and farming skill are written off as "adult problems" that can be swiftly ignored. They always seem to have discussions like this but our world doesn't ever seem to change, so they must not mean all that much in the grand scheme of things. Who cares about that, Klaudia the new girl just moved to town and she's pretty cool, playing with her and making her feel welcome is more important. 

As children tend to, Ryza, Lent, and Tao have boundless interest or passion for a particular topic, but no real avenue with which to channel that restless energy. It doesn't hurt that older folks and even the town's own heir discourage it, and write it off as meaningless play in the face of those who help the village in more meaningful ways like farming. Empel's and Lila's arrival provides that avenue for them. Through training them in alchemy, swordplay, and reading the Klint Kingdom's runic language respectively, each of them start to build up specialties.

I should also point out that, much like what alchemy does for Ryza, Lent's and Tao's specialties help them to see the world from a new perspective. Lent learns to view situations more thoroughly, as a keen awareness of your environment is necessary to avoiding danger, while Tao literally learns another written language and can thus find meaning in parts of the world that others can't. In this regard, Klaudia is unique. As the daughter of a traveling merchant, she's seen the world in numerous different ways her entire life without ever truly being able to adjust to one place or make consistent friends, so the stability of a place like Kurken Island is more appealing. Though it could be argued that her learning to have stable relationships is itself a part of seeing the world in a different way.

Anyway, there's a mark of status that comes with adulthood, and children often seek approval as a sort of bar to measure how much they've grown up. At the start of the game, that bar is rock bottom, and they can't quite seem to figure out why. Agatha is always annoyed at them, Ryza's mom always seems intent on ruining their fun, and no one really seems to trust them to handle anything. When Ryza becomes proficient at alchemy, she naturally wants to show it off, but as always, they write it off as a childish play toy, though with hints of distrusting the "witchcraft" of outsiders. But eventually, she starts pulling off impressive feats. She rebuilds a secret base on her own, and helps the townspeople with various issues that need solving. She earns the good will of Klaudia's father, and the trust of anyone she does side quests for. The bar goes up just a little bit, but every small step feels like a giant leap when your world is small enough. 

When they improve enough, they push their luck in asking Klaudia's father to let her accompany the crew on adventures, and when they receive pushback, it's the first sign that they may not have grown quite as much as they think they have. He even "tests" them through a series of mundane chores and silly races, clearly using them for free labor rather than genuine tests of knowledge, and giving bullshit contests rather than test their navigation and combat skills. Grow as they might, they aren't ready to be taken seriously yet. Throughout the first half of the game, the crew does something that seems like it could prove their worth, only to be faced with the realities of a world more complex than they realize, never quite adept enough to handle the next problem. They can eventually defeat a dragon by combining all their skills, but there's another monster lurking in the background they're not strong enough to handle. Ryza can make amazing bait for the fisherman when the fish aren't biting, but when that ends up only working short term, she can do nothing to solve the root of the problem on her own, and only brute forces the same solution to no avail. 

Try and try as they might, their progress is undeniable but also miniscule in the grand scheme of things. In the end, Empel and Lila, their adult mentor figures and supervisors, do the most important jobs, and even they do not trust Ryza and her friends to handle information about the Philuscha or the history of the Klint Kingdom. And if you don't grow enough, then is there even any point in doing all of this "play?" Bos is thus the ideological opposite in his coming-of-age. As the son of the village's leader and the next heir, adult responsibilities surrounded him from his birth. It's revealed that he used to be friends with Ryza and others, but a combination of getting into a fight and getting more responsibilities pushed on him led to his resenting the group for their playing. Bos feels he gets adult responsibilities because he's worthy of them, and the other's small growth is proof that they are not worthy. Since no one takes them seriously, but they do take Bos seriously, there's something fundamental about him and his lineage that makes him inherently more grown up. 

It's this mindset that makes him deeply hate what the others are doing. It's like a spit in the face of his honor. The group's activities have net them more attention, and even if they aren't quite trusted yet, they're clearly making some progress, and they get to have fun doing it. Bos tossed his opportunity for it thinking he was inherently more mature, so if it proves true that they can grow through this "play," Bos has lost his childhood to a lie about the worth of his blood line. Interactions between the group and Bos make it clear that his feelings are complicated and that he doesn't truly hate them. There's a tinge of jealousy to his interactions with them. He says he wants them to give up, he emphasizes every failure and devalues any success they have, almost as if he's projecting himself. And as it slowly becomes obvious that Ryza and friends are growing much faster than Bos is, his view of the world and his situation is thrown into chaos. Growing up is a process, it is not bestowed as a familial rite. 

The "gate to adulthood" is a common trope in fantasy coming-of-age stories. It's a very literal barrier between adolescence and adulthood, a gate into the alien world of adulthood, the singular transition point where one loses their innocence but their view of the world expands drastically. In real life, passing the "gate to adulthood" is a slower process. I've personally tracked it through my thoughts on each United States election I've been born for. I wasn't old enough to even process the existence of 2000 and 2004, I became more aware and involved in 2008 and 2012, but it was specifically the 2016 election where it suddenly felt like the most important current event of my life; my first time getting truly involved in what Ryza calls "adult issues," never to return to the safe bubble of childhood ever again. Nonetheless, the sorts of changes that the game's cast goes through are ones I went on my own journey through starting from that point, where the game launches it on them all at once.

I'm getting ahead of myself though. Empel and Lila are searching through the ruins for a gate in order to close it off and prevent an invasion by the Philuscha. Naturally, this gate is the metaphorical divide between childhood and adulthood (quite literally surrounded by ruins representing the past, into a world too different to understand), and after Ryza and her friends show Bos' up a few too many times, he runs into the gate. It's a very literal representation of him forcing himself to grow up, and with all of the progress Ryza and friends have made, they steel themselves and are convinced they're ready to handle what's beyond the gate. The physical challenges of the gate prove to be manageable, but the weight of a million plot reveals drop kicks them more than a Philuscha ever could. 

The comfy and positive overtones of the game up to this point are turned on their head as the nature of the world itself is destroyed. Our cast are the descendants of colonizers who raided a new world, plunged it into darkness to steal their resources, and indirectly caused genocide to near extinction of one of that world's civilizations. Bos' right to respect and power is built on a lie, and his family's right to the town's water is a result of resource theft and indirect murder. And Lila is one of the last living remnants of the underworld's culture, everyone's lives are built on the back of the destruction of their friend's and mentor's home. It's the first time that the cast has ever had to deal with genuinely tough questions. Their lives are built on resource theft and genocide, is it fair for them to live the ways they do? How responsible are they for the sins of their ancestors? How can the underworld be restored without unfairly sacrificing Kurken's quality of life? 

This moment reminds me of my own reaction when learning about the history of my own country. Through childhood, I was taught about American history through the lens of the winners. We won wars against oppressors, established a democratic state that values freedom, partnered with the native people and celebrated establishment together, defeated the bad guys who wanted to keep slavery, etc.. It took courage to accept that this was a misleading narrative, especially given what it means about the history that lets me live the life I do. Even besides the most direct parallel, growing up has meant to expand my knowledge of the world; that most of what we learned in school was simplified so a child could understand it. One eventually realizes that the world is unimaginably complex, and to grow up is to complicate your world. To not complicate your world is to have Ryza's reaction at the start of the game, to write it all of as "adult problems," though some will try to couch their distaste at complicating their world in deceptive language, as many of the adults in Atelier Ryza do. It's scary to complicate your world, it comes with fundamentally reprogramming how you view everything around you. 

Although Klaudia has an important moment of growth during this scene, the gang leaves the gate entirely defeated. They were not ready to grow up yet, unable to fully process the info that complicates their world, so their journey to the end of the gate was never brought to fruition. This failure is a part of growing up too, growing pains come with the territory. So the next steps come in figuring out how to navigate these difficult questions, and being mature in coming up with an answer. This sort of thinking requires an open mind willing to accept difficult truths. But both on Kurken Island and on the mainland, this sort of thinking is difficult to come by, and it's opposite is systemically enforced. 

Kurken Island is a largely isolationist nation. It allows tourists, some people even move to it, but it's by and large afraid of outside influences. Kurken fruit was once it's only real export, but the game starts when the Valentz family comes into the island to establish trade relations. Likewise, the people of Kurken Island don't want it's inhabitants to leave. It has rules for where those who travel to the mainland are allowed and not allowed to go, and breaking those rules is taboo, but the game starts when Ryza pushes her desire to explore places other than the island. Through these parallel points, one about adults considering (and struggling) to open the island to new traditions and people, and one about children considering (and struggling) to to leave the island for adventure, the lines between adulthood and maturity become blurred.

If there's one thing that children do better than adults, it's being open minded. They know nothing about the world, so they soak up new information like a sponge, with curiosity unburdened by a fear of danger. But the island culture systemically enforces a strict and close minded attitude towards outsiders out of an exaggerated fear of danger. People are encouraged to stay where they're at, put in their work, and contribute to the community. Those who want to explore differently are either forced out of it against their will, like Bos, or discouraged to the point of needing an escape, like Ryza. The secret base is a place where Ryza and co. can stay away from that culturally ingrained skepticism, mentored by adults with unique experiences compared to the islanders and can thus present a different perspective. It's a place where they can foster their talents and interests without judgment, and the result is significant personal growth. 

Where everyone on the island is instantly skeptical of alchemy, Ryza shows an open mind towards it, and it results in not only helping her community in ways no one else can, but eventually saving the fate of the island itself. In reality, everyone benefits from these new perspectives, and Kurken Island hampers it's valuing of community contribution through it's fear of outside perspectives. Given the island's history, it is entirely understandable how this fear came to be so deeply culturally ingrained. It is a cycle of generational trauma stemming from tragic history. But that's why childish curiosity is so necessary, as it's one key to breaking the cycle. 

The island's inability to abandon it's universal skepticism towards outsiders nearly leads to it's downfalls on multiple occasions. And it's reliance on island inhabitants hurts it equally so. When you live life in a small, enclosed space, your world is too small to have all the tools to deal with novel problems. When fish stop biting and an important food source is threatened, the crew relies on Ryza to make stronger and stronger bait, but are skeptical of ideas from the very person who taught her how to make that bait. Empel and Lila attempt to explain things, but the island rejects them inherently, forcing them to use sneakier tactics to make things work, only reinforcing their stigma. The result of this is to put them on trial in a case designed for them to lose, largely forced by elders trying to protect the status quo; quite literally the islanders throwing a tantrum. If this is adulthood on the island, then perhaps not everyone has truly grown up. 

But this sort of close minded thinking extends to Empel in its own subtle way. Having been betrayed by alchemists in the kingdom, and horrified by the sins of the Klint Kingdom and other alchemy practicing civilizations throughout history, Empel has essentially sworn off of alchemy. To him, his non-functional hand is a curse deserved for the sins of alchemist's past. He could probably fix his hand if he put in the work, but to use magic built for destruction is unthinkable, so he burns the recipe. Much like how the people of Kurken never seem to change, he states outright that alchemists never seem to change. But Lila, as an outside perspective even to him, asks if he will be different, a proposition which he was resistant to. But Ryza is proof that things can change, and that he is capable of change. Born from the descendants of the sinners he hates so much, even an islander can prove that alchemy can fill others with light. And in one of the game's most poignant scenes, Empel proves that he can change too. All of the changes characters undergo in this story come through acceptance of an outside perspective; from someone of a different culture, informed by different ways of thinking, and willing to push past preconceptions. 

In this sense, the island itself undergoes a parallel arc to Empel. Much like the island, Empel refuses to let anyone new in. Even though he trains Ryza to use alchemy to help him, he never truly lets her in, he hides his past and his goals from her. But once he opens himself up to the perspective she can provide, even when it's one built from sinful ancestors, he can grow significantly, both physically in the sense of his arm working again, and mentally. The island struggles much harder to undergo the same arc in it's acceptance of outside perspectives, but a push from Ryza and friends' uncompromising curiosity helps it to happen eventually. 

To be an adult is not the same as being mature. And to be childish is not the same as being immature. Either of those is a remarkably simple way to view the world, and to be an adult is to complicate the world. When faced with a new problem, how much curiosity and how much skepticism is required? Lila teaches Lent to always be skeptical during combat scenarios, so it's not like it doesn't have advantages. But the nuance comes in the degree, and the open mindedness to retract that skepticism. After all, if Lent were always skeptical in combat, he'd never get to fight, and thus never get to grow. The same is true of every character, and the island itself. To be mature is to consider a variety of perspectives, to never let yourself be convinced by a singular, simple way of thinking. For Ryza, it's to realize that the world she lives in has more precious details than a child could ever imagine. For Empel, it's to realize that alchemists are only as sinful as those who commit sins. And for Kurken Island, it's to consider the knowledge and expertise that only outsiders can provide to an isolated location. 

When the characters find their answers to the difficult questions of the gate, and learn the truth of the conflict they're involved in, they think through all manner of situations. Fighting the philuscha queen is unsafe, and they may not be ready for it. The problem might be too important to leave for later though. We can take time to prepare, or catch the queen at her weakest. We can keep the water for our island that needs it, or we can find another way to obtain it and return our stolen goods. These are questions that require flexibility of thought, a uniquely adult skill. Although their run into the gate the second time is treated as an epic moment of quick decision making for the sake of a satisfying climax, the thought process to get there goes far beyond their first entry into the gate, so this time, they make it all the way through. 

This balance of thought informs the game's ending. Everyone starts to make bigger plans, and some of them will leave the island. But Ryza, seeing her responsibility to her community, and realizing how beautiful her home always was, chooses to stay, at least for the moment. She will leave eventually, there are two more games after all, but this kind of thinking requires a mature flexibility. A girl who once despised how boring her life was has come to treasure that very ordinariness by experiencing the excitement she always dreamed of... and loving it just as much. The game is paced slowly to capture the weight of their small steps towards adulthood. There's one moment where Agatha watches the trio run off, and realizes she doesn't have to look after them anymore. By the end of the game, I felt the same way. The scars of the gate will always be there, but with an open mind, we can use them to avoid bigger ones in the future. 

The Gameplay Section, Or How I Learned to Love Crafting

I need to make it abundantly clear that I am a story focused gamer. I find that I most enjoy the gameplay aspects that most directly play into the narrative. In the case of Atelier Ryza, I feel I've done a good job of explaining this aspect through what I had to say about the game's setting. Collecting materials is directly tied to the story as a method to understand how Ryza starts to notice details about the world she never could as a child. Much as she comes to adore her home, I came to adore it as well through exploring each locale with her. I've already talked about how the gameplay loop of exploring and existing in this wonderful setting, finding materials, and crafting them came to be a highly addictive and therapeutic experience for me, as the comfy atmosphere and robust but not-too-intensive crafting mechanics made it easy for me to sink in to. 

I adore Atelier Ryza's story, including for how the gameplay interacts with it, but from what I can tell, long-time fans of the franchise most appreciate the series (including Ryza) for, apart from the light and comfy atmosphere, the depth of mechanics. If you really want to, a player can farm lots of material, execute synthesis loops to collect the highest quality materials with the strongest traits, and get the strongest items possible very quickly. But if there are two things I typically don't enjoy doing in video games, they would be digging into the nitty gritty of in-depth mechanics, and crafting. In most games, even other games with comfy settings or where it ties into the story, these are the sorts of tasks I consider a chore. I tend to play with the most basic or intended path towards growth, and to barely touch a crafting task here or there but otherwise ignore it completely. This aspect of Atelier is what I was skeptical of, but Ryza has a number of excellent quality of life features that make this process a joy for me. 

First and foremost is a large bag size with a robust fast-travel system. Collecting items for crafting usually involves getting a lot of highly specific items, which can sometimes come with trial and error. I've found I often have my bag full before collecting everything I've wanted, meaning I need to either dump some of my items, or return home to craft with them and then come back. The process of going home, doing stuff, and returning to the location usually takes significant time and effort in my experience, and Atelier Ryza alleviates these sorts of issues for me entirely. The bag we use for collecting is so giant that I rarely find I've filled it up completely. In the rare scenario that it does end up entirely full, moving from location to location is as easy as pressing two buttons. The ability to return to the atelier from anywhere to dump all my items feels like a godsend. But even more than that, I don't have to trek back to the location I had just come from. The moment you enter a new location, you can immediately fast travel there. And each room is small enough (but laid out in such a way as to still be substantial) that it's never difficult or time consuming to get to the next location. If I have to return to the atelier, it's easy to make it to the next room real quick so I don't have to go through the same room twice. This fast travel system also makes exploring the town and other non-dungeon locations far easier. You are rewarded for exploring each setting and discovering every specified location, and my ability to fast travel pretty much at my will completely removes the monotonous parts of exploration. Moreover, dying in combat just brings you back to the atelier with a few items lost, so I don't have much to fear out in the field. 

The crafting system itself also feels like the perfect combination of being robust enough to require thought, but not so intensive that it distracts from the comfy tone. The nature of the system meant that I always needed to make decisions about what items I use. I might have an item with an elemental level 3, and if only I had the same item with a higher level, I could get more boosts. Do I invest in another stat, go back to find my necessary item, or maybe raise my alchemy level so I can add more items to each synthesis? Sometimes I might be low on a particular item that's difficult to craft, but using it in a current synthesis will net me good results. Do I use the item now, or do I save it for later when I have materials to craft it again? The menu is clunky at first, but it has a good filtering feature that makes it easy to find the items you need, so answering these questions typically isn't too taxing. At the same time, if I'm not in the mood the think about those sorts of questions, the game has an auto feature that will use the highest or lowest quality items for me, and it's a good enough system that a player could easily use that the entire game and not have too much trouble. 

Alchemy feels like a system I have complete control over my experience of, so it never feels like something I have to commit myself to. I can put as much or as little thought into it as I want, and the rewards for understanding and manipulating the system are high, but I don't feel punished when I prefer to use the auto feature. Crafting is generally how you will increase your stats, and whenever I had trouble with a boss, I loved not having to go out of my way to grind. Grinding is honestly not very helpful in the first place, and the ease at which I can collect and craft better weapons and armor that can push me through a tough boss makes for an experience that almost never gets frustrating. 

Collecting itself is fairly robust as well. While most gathering items are necessary for plot progression, not all of them are, and it's easy to miss out on unique items or hidden locations if you don't thoroughly explore your options. You can easily run through the whole game without the wind boots, but seeing the spots where you can use them prompted me to figure out how to make them, leading me to many new locations that further build the setting. Once I did make them and returned to a location I saw one of those spots at, it immediately brought me into a fight with a late-game super boss I was absolutely unprepared for, which is one of those experiences that sounds awful when you describe it, but in practice is exhilarating and only made me want to improve my alchemy to defeat it. When I did eventually conquer it, it was immensely satisfying, but in a way I could only get with the way I encountered this boss. Experiences like that are one of the great joys of gaming in my opinion. 

Speaking of bosses, I absolutely love Atelier Ryza's battle system. For all aspects of the gameplay, the word I always think of is "robust," but again, in such a way that doesn't clash with the comfy attitude. The game has an ATB system, and when you attack on your turn, you raise a tactics bar. Raising your tactics bar to 10 will allow you to raise your tactics level while resetting it to zero, which gives you more normal attacks and powers up your specials. The tactics level can be raised up to 5 (each level requiring 10 more points than the last), and instead of the typical MP system, using special moves eats at your tactics bar. Enemies will have a stun bar which goes down with each attack, and reducing the bar to zero will stun them. The system is designed to keep things fast paced, and to make the player factor in risk vs. reward. If I use special moves, I can't raise my tactics level, but if I raise my tactics level right before an enemy charges a powerful attack, it's much more difficult to stun them without access to special moves. I always have to be aware of what enemies might do, and figure out the right moments to conserve special attacks to build my tactics level, and when to go ham and unleash as much damage as I can. 

Your party will have up to three members (with two pre-set choices for each position), who can hold offensive, defensive, or support roles depending on the weapons and armor you synthesize for them. These roles will effect who and how enemies will attack each character, so there's a degree of strategy to picking out your party. And unlike many JRPGs, Ryza is not a mandatory party member. Each of them specializes in a particular area, and it's fun to think about combinations, as limited as they might be. Ryza is an offensive all-rounder with the strongest magic attacks, and Lent is a powerhouse tank who takes longer to wait for his turn. You can pair them up with Empel, who raises your team's speed while lowering the opponent's, allowing you to deal a lot of damage quickly while getting attacked less, but at the cost of greater difficulty healing. You can use Klaudia instead of Empel, a stronger support who can lower enemy stats and is the only character who can heal without using an item. Using her will allow you to survive much longer against stronger enemies, but will ensure you're doing less damage even with the attack boost she gives Ryza. Alternatively, you can replace Ryza with Lila for greater elemental flexibility, and it'll give Lent a defense boost to make him a better tank, but Ryza is great at knocking back an enemy's stun gauge so you'll need to ensure you can survive huge attacks. 

It's fun to try out every combination of characters, since they all have their strengths and weaknesses. The battle system encourages this experimentation through quests that grant passive abilities when you complete certain tasks with specific party member combinations. Moreover, while you can only control one character at a time during combat, you can switch between them whenever you want, which means you're never screwed when you need a specific attack, and it makes the battles feel fast paced and exciting. Adding to this is a light combo system, where listening to a character's commands will get them to use a special move that deals extra damage and stun gauge. It only adds to the drama of choosing to prioritize using special moves or conserving to raise your tactics level, and mastering this system can allow for particularly satisfying and flashy combo strings, which isn't what I'd normally expect to say about a turn based ATB system. 

Of course, alchemy is naturally also a part of combat, and I appreciate the way it's been handled here. Rather than having a list of items you can pull from at any time and deplete from, specific items are placed in a "core crystal" and can be used without running out. You start with a specific number of "core charges," and each item uses different amounts of core charges depending on the item in question and the quality of the alchemy. Core charges can be replenished during combat by disabling the use of one item for the rest of the outing. This mechanic adds an additional bit of resource management, as items need to carefully planned out since spamming powerful items too often will lead to running out of use during combat. 

Adding to all of this is a mechanic in which you can use tactics points to skip waiting for your turn. Doing this will pause time and allow you to either use an item, or use a special move (costing additional tactics points). The player can use this to heal teammates in a pinch, or get special commands from partners while an enemy is charging a big attack, allowing for bigger combos. All of it combines together to make a battle system that is fast paced and exciting, yet simple enough to be intuitive once you process the clunky tutorials, and which doesn't clash with the relaxing tone of the game. 

I also want to give particular notice to the game's various battle themes, which I think are outstanding and do a great job of setting the specific mood the game is going for. Atelier Ryza's story is low stakes, and the atmosphere is always relaxing. At it's core, that feels like it should clash with the tone of an epic JRPG battle, but beyond the aspects of the battle system that keep things from getting too hectic, the music makes battles feel uplifting, as the music cheers you on to victory. Take for example the game's default battle theme titled End of Hibernation. The track is a light and airy 7/4 groove with a driving flute melody, and percussion and rhythm guitar that generally keeps the rhythm steady. Despite the odd time signature, it's a track that's not difficult to follow, and yet the funky harmonies and unsteady time signature keep things slightly off kilter. "End of Hibernation" evokes the thought of waking from a slumber to see the world, and the track evokes it musically as well. If the fight has been going on for over a minute and 30 seconds, which is fairly long for a fight against normal enemies and thus implies the player is struggling, the track suddenly transitions into an upbeat 4/4 section that slowly layers instruments, which musically feels like it's telling us "get back up, you can do it." In this sense, the music is cheering us on in the fight, it feels slightly childish but undeniably infectious as well; a perfect fit for the game's tone. 

When the stakes do raise a little bit, the boss theme Southern White Wind comes to cheer us on and keep us hyped up. The track is designed around a seemingly constant build-up, starting out as an uplifting and exciting tension build that explodes into a driving melody that just keeps moving up. Once the track's "chorus" hits, it goes up a key every time it hits the end of that melody line, and then it does it again, and again, and once you've thought it hit the peak of tension, it goes up yet another key before finally looping completely. It's a constant climb that never seems to stop going up, and it's composed in such a way that I can't even really tell when it returns to the original key, making it feel like it never stops pushing forward. It emphasizes how much growth the characters have undergone in a very positive light, and makes the fight itself feel like a constant climb, like the boss is never really knocking you down. The battle music mostly keeps to this sort of framing, making fights feel more like your training has paid off, and making boss battles feel exciting but without too much risk, as if you're unstoppable in that moment. 

Miscellaneous Details

Structuring a blog post is hard, especially for something I love so much and have so much to say about. This is my third draft of this, and hopefully the actual post as well. As such, I had a decent few extra things I wanted to mention but couldn't find room to fit within the post itself, so I decided to save them for this section here. I don't want these things to be written off, as they're every bit as integral to my adoration of the game as any above points, I just couldn't fit them naturally within the structure my post took. Like I said, I'm a thought dumper, so this is where I dump my leftover thoughts. This section will therefore be less structured by comparison, but I still encourage everyone to give it a read. 

The start of the story is slow because Ryza feels that her life is slow. Her upgrade from chores is to look at a forest and beat up some slimes, while learning the basics of throwing objects into a pot for alchemy. Alchemy at this point only involves collecting local plants and breaking some boxes near the house, and maybe defeating a weak monster, and your best item is a pathetic bomb for self defense. But although Ryza feels this slowness is suffocating, I come from a different position in which I wish my life was less emotionally ruffled, and I could settle down into my own ordinary adventures, so these mundane adventures were pure comfy for me. The joy of the early section of this game is in getting to accommodate myself to the atmosphere of Kurken Island. I find Ryza's life, barely upgraded and all, to be idyllic and cozy. Finding items encourages me to explore every nook and cranny of the island, in turn meeting new people and getting a general feel for how the setting is laid out. 

Ryza and her friends fit cleanly into archetypes, but they have a natural sense of chemistry. Their dialogue is fairly typical of this sort of coming-of-age story, and yet it's executed with wit and with a sense of intimacy. The central trio play off of each other wonderfully, each balancing out the others' personalities in an endlessly entertaining way. Watching the boys semi-reluctantly get pushed by Ryza into doing stuff they know they probably shouldn't just works as a dynamic, and they're written to have a sense of closeness that makes them feel like they've been dealing with her bullshit for their whole lives but wouldn't have it any other way in spite of their sighs, selling them as childhood friends. My favorite part of the early game was taking the boat to the mainland, where I'd be greeted by a short interaction between the trio as Lent steers them to shore. These were what built my initial attachment to the main trio. Exploring the island, discovering objects I can use to make items, and being endeared to the trio of childhood friends, and ultimately growing to find the setting of Rasenboden extremely lovely to simply exist in, slowly carried me into the game's overall mood and flow. Coming home after a day of school or work and going on these cozy adventures, and then getting lost in alchemy to build more interesting items, was a therapeutic experience that put the day's struggles to rest. Even this early on, I found that I couldn't wait to come home and play the game as soon as possible, the anxiety of that wait occupying my headspace for the entire day. I don't find that childlike excitement very often. 

While it has lots of climactic moments of realization, many of its biggest moments of growth are small in scale. One of my favorite moments in the game is when the crew, after a long journey, discover that all the way to the north there's a quiet delta full of huge honey trees. The trees are ginormous, and have gorgeous red leaves and trunks, almost looking like the colors have been painted on. I happened to arrive at this location during the evening, where it was flooded by the delicate golden light of the sunset, amplified as it reflected off the water, making the pond itself look gold. Arriving at this stunning locale, the camera pans over each of its beautiful areas, and this beautiful music begins to swell, highlighting the mysterious, beautiful, almost ethereal moment of discovering this wonderful, lonely place. This aptly named Maple Delta has all sorts of new and unique plants and animals, and Ryza is immediately curious about all of it. She has theories about how the trees have come to look so red, ideas about what all the material can be used for, and is desperate to study how this interesting stuff works. But when Tao suggests that she bring home a sapling of one of the seemingly painted trees to study it, she turns him down and suggests that this moment be left as a sweet, nostalgic memory. 

The Ryza at the start of the game never would have even considered any of this. To that Ryza, these gorgeous trees are just trees. What makes them red wouldn't matter, they're pretty and that's that. That Ryza would have never given a shit about leaving a place be and protecting a memory, this location would be something novel that she'd probably be desperate to take back to remove the island doldrums, before getting bored of it again once the novelty of red trees wore off. That Ryza never would have considered Klaudia's feelings this strongly, partly declining the planting of a sapling because she'll leave before getting to see it become a full tree. This is technically a big moment, but none of that meaning is directly stated. 

There's a tricky balance to strike between criticizing part of a society's culture without making the story feel like it's about foreigners imposing their "superior" knowledge to change the ways of flawed folks who live uncivilized. And that's especially true for this story, where the cast's ancestors are part of a society who tore down another world to selfishly mine for resources. I don't necessarily think that this was handled perfectly, but I do think that the story goes to great lengths to paint Kurken Island as a wonderful place that is less in need of drastic societal changes, and more in need of its leaders to be a little more open minded and not write off that which is unfamiliar. At the end of the day, the island's culture stems from a desperate attempt to escape from an unwinnable war, and that desperation and fear has simply been passed down for so many generations that it's dictated its culture long-term. Although the people living on the island are flawed, they're also wonderful people who bring important value to the world. At the end of the day, the larger story has to do with the island effecting the mainland much more than foreigners effect it. And numerous characters move to the island because they love it so much, life on the island isn't quite as cloying as the description of the story might imply. 

As should hopefully be obvious from all the linked videos and what little I've mentioned, I find Atelier Ryza's soundtrack to be outstanding. It's a varied OST matching it's varied locales, and many of it's tracks have stuck with me over this time. I haven't even mentioned the wonderful character themes. I adore Clear Silver Sound, which is about the most on-the-nose track I can imagine to represent the high class yet curious and adventurous flautist that is Klaudia, and I equally love Invisible Bookworm, with it's simple and down-to-earth clarinet melody that embodies the shy and bookish Tao perfectly; Two endearing tracks for two endearing characters. Just listen to the whole damn thing, it has so many great tracks. 

Similarly, I really want to praise the enemy designs. Though it has a problem with repeating designs with slight color changes, the base designs of enemies all look great. Puni and golems are adorable, weasels have a manic quality to the way the jump around that scares me, phantoms feel menacing and ethereal, and wyverns are sleek. In particular, I want to praise the first phase of the game's final boss, the Philuscha queen. The Philuscha are vaguely intelligent insect like creatures and the first phase of the queen looks like Cerberus but with the giant claws of a praying mantis for two of the heads. It's a downright terrifying design that stays in line with the insect influences on the species, while also feeling appropriately like the boss of the underworld through the visual connection to Cerberus. I can't say I understand why the second phase is a tokusatsu samurai villain, and I find it far less visually interesting (not to mention completely unfitting of the game), but it's still cool I guess. Naturally, Toridamono's award winning character designs are also gorgeous. 

All That I Value

When I started up Atelier Ryza, I realized that I hadn't seen a game with quite this attitude and atmosphere. It felt like it was made specifically for me, like my ideal video game was realized before my eyes. My immediate comparisons were not to other JRPGs like Final Fantasy (much as I love Final Fantasy), nor to any other video games at all. My first thought was that this is like Anne of Green Gables in video game form. It has that sort of attitude, the comfy vibe of childhood friends growing up together while dealing with changes to their environment, the intimate small setting where everyone seems to know everyone else, that sense of adults doing their best to look after a problem child who's really a good girl who just needs a bit more maturity and a good role model to shine. Anyone who saw my favorite media list from last year will recall my adoration of Anne's anime adaptation, and Ryza follows in those footsteps in video game form. Anne of Green Gables is not the sort of influence I typically see in video games, but it was a huge inspiration to the Atelier franchise's first installment Atelier Marie, and this has presumably trickled down to the rest of the franchise. This knowledge has made me indescribably excited to dig into the Atelier franchise, which I've only heard of in passing until Ryza's release. 

It is in these mundane, slice of life qualities where Atelier Ryza wins me over. While I love many video games, the medium typically leans so strongly into maximalism that it can be hard to have moments of intimacy that I most tend towards. But Atelier Ryza doesn't just thrive on that intimacy, but comments on it outright. It is a story that understands the struggles of growing up better than almost anything I've seen, through the specificity of it's metaphors and how it ties it's conflicts to it's themes. But at the end of the day, it is about treasuring the present moment, and to focus on all the beauty that surrounds you, which we miss in our inflexible reflex to assume we know everything about our home. To me, the essence of this game is encapsulated in the track Solramimi, Ryza's character theme. Ryza might be a rambunctious character who claims to dislike the familiar, but her and this track are also warm and inviting. Although this turns out to be coincidence, I once saw people say that the name of this track was a typo of the Japanese word "soramimi." Quite literally "sky ears," it has the meaning of "to thought to have heard something." Before seeing that this was unintentional and the l in the track name was not a typo, I had felt that the name symbolized the call for adventure which Ryza thought she heard at the start of the game. That was a misheard call, because her real calling was her home, a loving community and beautiful island she never quite realized the value of. Unintentional though it may be, I can't help but feel that it adds some meaning to the story, and to this track as a representation of Ryza's character. Ryza is not out for adventure, she represents the warmth of discovering that your familiar home and ordinary days are plenty adventurous. 

Atelier Ryza is not a story that functions on originality or uniqueness, but one that thrives on thorough details, earnest character writing, and robust design. It is a game that feels uniquely lived in, and with quality of life mechanics seemingly designed to combat my own personal annoyances. This combination makes it immersive and addicting, and getting into that world has led to me experiencing a story that I find to be both remarkably interesting and intimately poignant. I can sense that I value it much more highly than others, but it is a piece of art that embodies all of my values, something I can point to and tell someone to play if they want to understand me a little bit (probably in tandem with this post). In that sense, I find the experience to be incredibly special, and through this overly long, awkwardly structured ramble of an analysis and love letter, I hope that maybe I could share at least a little bit of that with you. I am beyond delighted that I still have two more games to spend with these characters. I'm going to let this trilogy be a big part of my life for the next year or two, growing up alongside the characters as we all head into the next stages of our lives. 

Ha, it can be done. I talked about Atelier Ryza

without ever mentioning Ryza's thighs