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On why I adore Prompto, the transient heart of FFXV, and the power of bromance

So I wrote this pile of meta immediately after finishing FFXV and shortly before some similar analyses wound up on YouTube. While I agree with a lot of them, I don’t feel like they go far enough in exploring the gravity of the train scene and its impact on the story, so I decided to upload this almost a year after the discussion was relevant. Please excuse the outdated references to an ‘upcoming’ DLC for Prompto.

FFXV is a flawed game. It is plotted sparsely and structured contestably. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, and its light-and-darkness lore feels okay at best, contrived the rest of the time. I don’t even want to mention its treatment of gender, or I’ll never write about anything else (and maybe this game deserves that). But the reverence and joy I often felt while playing FFXV must not be understated. As annoyed and even angry as I am at SquareEnix in the aftermath of one of its best games in a long time, the fact remains – this IS one of its best games in a long time. This is certainly not because of the flawless execution of each of its individual parts, and definitely not because of any attempts to respect its non-male fans, but because of what generally makes a FF game a FF game – the unforgettable atmosphere, the commitment to the characters, and the miraculous success of key dramatic scenes in the face of insurmountable narrative ridiculousness.

This hybrid between a tumblr meta and an HSC essay will explore that success through the framework of some of my favourite elements of the game: a scene wherein the villain Ardyn tricks the young protagonist Noctis into harming his best friend; the relationship between Noctis and Prompto, the bestie; and the expression of the core themes of the story through the world and atmosphere that these elements create together. Themes of friendship, transience, and sacrifice will be explored, but all in all, this is just an unstructured meditation on some things I love about this game – an ode to the flawed FFXV, crafted in its image.

Ok so the scene I described above really cements Ardyn as one of the most detestable FF villains for me, while also making me love Prompto all the more. In a nutshell, Ardyn swaps bodies with Prompto, and Noctis, following the logic of the story, attacks this supposed Ardyn. While the scene relies on a really stupid narrative device, its positive effect on the relevant character arcs is proportionately strong. My suspension of disbelief has just been brutally injured by a magical technique that I didn’t know the villain possessed until two seconds ago, but the scene still somehow works. It’s such a typically FFXV thing – logically pathetic, but narratively powerful enough that I yelled at my TV.

Okay. So I assumed straight up when Ardyn appears on the train and starts referring to Noctis as his ‘bro’, his ‘dude’, his ‘man’, that he’s just being a douchebag. I was ever so slightly suspicious that the game gave me only the option to attack Ardyn at this point, but I wasn’t exactly calm enough to question it when faced with the asshole who shivved my fiancé. I just wanted to shiv him back.

When he continues the gross façade with what seems to be mock surprise at the fact that Noctis is trying to kill him, it only serves to rile greater anger. Of course, he wants to kill you, you basket case. You’re just provoking him, now. Why are you acting like you’re one of us?

And then Noctis drops a few choice lines that will haunt me/him until the end of the game – things like “why have you been following us around all this time anyway; all this bad shit has been happening ever since you started tagging along behind us…” in other words, a violently sincere checklist of all of Prompto’s greatest fears. And this Ardyn, this Ardyn-who-isn’t-really-Ardyn, doesn’t fight back. He asks, disbelievingly, “Is that true?”

The horrible genius behind Ardyn’s plan is that it kills two birds with one stone – two beautiful, innocent, emotionally brutalised birds – by having them kill each other. What could be a worse fate for Prompto than finding out that his best friend doesn’t really love him; that, in fact, Noctis has been harbouring annoyance for him all along, and that this has festered into resentment the longer they stay together, and has finally become hatred now that the truth is coming out? What could be worse for Prompto than dying at Noctis’s hand?

At this point, let’s consider Prompto’s character. Prompto is a bit of a dork. He’s the same age as Noctis but has never considered himself as being in the same league as his friend, physically, intellectually, or socially. He has the lowest base stats of any of the four main characters. His defence sucks, his attack sucks, his magic sucks, and his HP is even worse than Ignis’s. His photographic hobby serves no practical purpose, unlike Noctis’s angling, or Gladio’s wilderness survival, or Ignis’s campside culinary creativity, which all mesh together ridiculously well. He’s the shortest in the group and the most feminine in appearance, and compensates the most (and apparently in the only way he knows how) with over-the-top body language and a tongue piercing and a wardrobe straight out of Hot Topic. Noctis even (affectionately) calls him a nerd on several occasions.

Prompto is painfully aware of his role in the group dynamic. He’s the annoying friend. The plebe in a party of royals. The self-conscious try-hard with no redeeming qualities, as far as Prompto himself is concerned. He is less aware of the strengths of his role, because they are not traditional male strengths, and because he is the only person in the group to successfully wield them.

Prompto is crucial to the main group because he is the best at maintaining relationships. He is the only one who is able to consistently offer the emotional support Noctis doesn’t let on that he needs; the only one with the courage to try to defuse the arguments between Gladio and the Prince, even at risk of harm; the one who puts aside his own anger to hold up Ignis when Ignis is stumbling blind through a swamp, fighting to stay himself while Noctis and Gladio just fight each other. When King Regis dies, not even Ignis maintains the level of composure and sensitivity that Prompto has. While the others crumble under an awkward and heartbreaking silence, Prompto softly attempts to comfort Noctis, while also instantly recognising that they need to flee, lest they face the same fate as Noctis’s father. While Ignis and Gladio sit in the dining car of the Tenebraean train in silence, Prompto attempts some semblance of normal conversation out of a desire to show Noctis that he is emotionally available.

His loud public persona and awkward tendencies mean that he comes across as slightly autistic or socially maladjusted. But he is far from stupid, and his reluctance towards anger and direct confrontation should not be mistaken for dullness. His instinct to support others just outweighs his instinct to respond to his own feelings.

But if he views these abilities as expendable, then why shouldn’t Noctis? By Prompto’s logic, the idea that Noctis might actually hate him and his loud, oblivious, materialistic personality is perfectly reasonable. That dramatic irony is the tragedy of Prompto’s character. It’s a tragedy that many players can recognise in some way, be it through themselves or who they once were, or through a friend or family member who underestimates their own importance.

Of course, Noctis does not hate Prompto. Far from it.

After chasing ‘Ardyn’ through the train car, suspended in a dreamlike state and mysteriously separated from his best friend, Noctis awakens to Prompto, lifting him to his feet. They scour the train together, stop the magitek troopers together, bring down a fleet together. So when Noctis sees Ardyn and Prompto standing atop the train, with Ardyn apparently having disarmed Prompto and now wielding Prompto’s gun against him, his reaction is instant. He bolts to save Prompto by throwing Ardyn from the train. It is at this exact, context-free, confusing, and somehow still earth-shattering moment that we realise Noctis has just flung his best friend off a moving train and is now stuck on top of it with Ardyn. Who proceeds to knock him out.

Now, let’s consider the relationship between the player and Noctis. Right from the start of the game, we occupy a space in the back of Noctis’s mind. We are the third-person in his RPG world, and while we have enough distance both visually and narratively to view him as his own distinct character, we are beckoned forward to identify closely with him, all the time. One of FFXV’s great strengths is its immersive power. Whether we are young and on our own clumsy journey into the responsibilities of adulthood, like Noctis, or whether the game serves as a portal into our past, it attempts to appeal to a universal sense of familiarity. It achieves this certainly not through the genders of the main dudes or the roles the game therefore assumes they should mould themselves to, but because the undercurrent of love is instantly recognisable to anyone lucky enough to have faced a challenge beside their friends. FFXV is about growing up by supporting the people you love and accepting their support in return, and as Noctis’s shadow, we get a first-row view of his appreciation of this. We feel his appreciation through the links we make to our own memories.

So, with this clarity of vision, in this spiral of dramatic irony with Prompto at the ugly centre, we know intrinsically that Noctis cares about him. This is not even something to be questioned. We see it in his affectionate exasperation and in the way his voice softens whenever he laughs at Prompto’s awful jokes. It’s in the sincerity of the scene at the motel, when Prompto admits his fears of inadequacy to Noctis, and Noctis tells him how much he values their friendship. We know how honest Noctis is in this friendship because his whole experience is one of helplessness in the face of destruction and thankfulness for what he has left – a lurching return to innocence, heralded by tragedy and softened by beauty.

But it isn’t only in these confessions that Noctis’s feelings are confirmed – it’s in the feeling that every moment the four friends spend together is precious and fleeting. The game is saturated with gentle scores and spontaneous bursts of music that ache to reflect the joy in the characters’ journey together. The lingering sadness in some of these pieces only reinforces the inkling that none of this can last – that they cannot be friends forever, because life has a way of ending things that should go on, and love hints always at sacrifice. Even game mechanics like the day-night cycle reinforce this feeling, as each sunset bathes the world in silence just a little too soon, and we think, ‘just one more fish, just one more hunt, just one more line of ridiculous, endearing dialogue’, but to push these boundaries would be to endanger our friends, and we are forced to retire for another night. The game sears moments of perfection into our mind, and in doing so, reminds us that each of these moments can only happen once. Every dungeon is new until you know what’s inside; every fish is a question mark until you catch it. (THIS IS A SERIOUS ESSAY I SWEAR.)

Prompto’s photos are perhaps the strongest mechanic of all when it comes to creating this sense of joyous ephemerality. What appears to be a game mechanic of little worth – indeed, what many hardcore reviewers criticise as a gimmicky addition to a weird bachelor party road trip of a game – holds arresting thematic relevance. Photography has been used in many games to express the irretrievability of a single moment, or to capture a second of the impossible (think of everything from Fatal Frame to Firewatch to Life is Strange – where photography exists in a game, it always provokes meaning, even if only sometimes offering a useful mechanic). Prompto is an indispensable member of the group – yes, because he’s funny, he’s kind, he’s supportive, and he puts himself in as much danger as anyone else to stop the Empire’s mad plans – but also because he is the group’s record keeper, the one producing proof that all of this happened. Prompto is the guy with the camera, and that means more than he can know. Noctis’s final request, after all, is to carry one of Prompto’s photos with him into death.

Let’s return to Noctis as a character, and try to understand the growth he experiences, leaving him at a point where he finally feels he can face that horrendous death in the absence of his friends. By the end of the game, he reaches a place where he appreciates that he can fulfill his duty with only his friends’, fiancé’s, and father’s love to support him, despite that he will never see any of them again. He has accepted that the halcyon days of his closest relationships are gone forever. This is in large part due to the fact that he has proof of their time together. It is vivid in his memory even when the present feels like a dream – the sidequests and aimless travel easily last three-quarters of the full game, after all, and the endgame is more of a haunted epilogue than a true catharsis. It is in his ability to even sit on the throne, as alone, he would never have survived the return to a daemon-ravaged Insomnia. And it is in the final photo that he takes with him. Noctis is heartbreakingly aware that his power is all thanks to his friends, and his sacrifice is an attempt to reciprocate this love by returning them to a time when they were free.

The scene on the train and its brutal aftermath (yes, this essay thingy is still about the scene on the train) is a crucial turning point in Noctis’s journey. After Prompto is thrown form the train by none other than his best friend, who believed he was in fact Ardyn, Prompto is captured. Sure, there’s some as-yet-unpublished DLC that happens in the middle, probably involving more horrible experiences for Prompto, but we basically know where he ends up. Captured, detained, and tortured, and Ardyn seems to enjoy every second of it. When Noctis rescues Prompto, Iggy and Gladio in tow, he releases Prompto from the Shinra-esque rack he’s suspended on and supports his exhausted collapse. Prompto says, almost infuriatingly, “Tell me Noct… were you worried?” The millisecond it takes the decent player to hit “of course I was” and yell “I fucking love you, you prick” at the TV, Noctis is gathering himself for a reply. One almost expects anger, but instead, he replies with warmth and appreciation – not even pity. This seems to be the best possible response, because Prompto confesses he knew this was true – that Noctis would come to rescue him, and that the trick had been Ardyn’s design, and not a product of Noctis’s hatred. Their reunion is essentially a happy one, despite the circumstances.

Because this is FFXV, the scene feels slightly emotionally constipated as no actual reflection is afforded the exchange. The boys accept and go about their usual business (with the exception that Prompto, bruised and bleeding like everywhere, leans unmoving against the wall with a look on his face that suggests he’s probably going to be traumatised for the rest of his life). Noctis’s apparent calmness could come off as a little uncaring from a shallow analysis (AHAHAHA BUT WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE). However this is the first time in the entire game he has had any chill about anything. In short, he is returning Prompto a favour.

In long, he has come to terms with grief and better appreciates his role as someone who can bring stability to a traumatic time, and Prompto is a person who, for all his wildness, values that affection and stability, evidenced by the fact that he is usually the one providing it. Consider Noctis before this development. While a wonderful character, he was pretty typically a FF protagonist in his fear of letting people down, not being able to save someone, etcetera etcetera. Lightning couldn’t save Serah, Cloud couldn’t save Aerith, Tidus couldn’t save Yuna probably, Ashe let her fiancé and father die before she could raise a rebellion. Like her, Noctis couldn’t save Luna or Regis. For the whole first half of the game, his objective was to find Luna, to reunite with her, to bring her into the fold and finally marry her. Twelve years of betrothal come to a clamorous end when Ardyn murders Luna, and it echoes straight back to the death of Regis at the hands of Ardyn’s imperial army, at the start of the game. Losing not only his father and his lover but also his best friend would ruin Noctis. Talcott’s grandpa’s murder, and then Gladio’s injuries, followed by Ignis going blind, are the start of Noctis’s realisation of the length his friends will go to, to protect him. His reaction, understandably, is guilt. He hasn’t accepted his own political weight or the personal sacrifices he must make at this point, which is frankly a perfectly healthy and decent reaction to finding out that people are willing to die for you because your powers can save the world or whatever. We see how distraught Noctis is when Prompto falls, and he has to recount the ordeal to Ignis over the phone. No question from our end – Noctis cares immensely about Prompto.

At this point, he is still not the force of stability that we see him as at the end. It is through the next few days of quiet travel, the realisation that night is coming and will never end, and the slow, sad appreciation for these final moments with Ignis and Gladio that Noctis realises what everyone has been fighting for. They’ve been fighting for each other and for him, sure, because they’re friends, but they’ve also been fighting for that joy that they once knew and want to restore to the world. Prompto, too, has sacrificed more than a simple plebe should ever have been expected to sacrifice in this savage political diatribe, because he wanted to support Noctis. Noctis seems to realise, in this twilit interval between the open world of the past and the claustrophobic corridors of the future, that the time for him to become a stable force for his friend is now.

When Noctis frees Prompto from one of the most disturbing locations in the game, more akin to something from Amnesia than FF, his character arc completes. His developmental climax has already happened, and the endgame follows in swift, ghostly steps. Were you worried about me? Of course I was. The moment Prompto is thrown off the train marks a climax in Noctis’s grief about what they have left behind and what has been ruined. His reunion with Prompto forms an assurance that, despite the finality of this sadness, their adventure has fostered some future cure. The small, fleeting beacons of joy, now gone, signed a pathway toward eventual hope. Prompto will never recover, and Noctis will never be able to go back and stop what happened to him. But he is alive, and Noctis can make sure there is a future in which he can rest, and continue recording the passage of those moments vital to life.

We are important to each other. Our short time together was precious and transformative. The things we did together we may never do again, but to believe you mean any less to me because you’ll be in my past soon (OR because you’re a magitek trooper – surprise) is so, so wrong. That wreck of a bachelor party is the reason we made it so far.

And so this mess of an analysis winds to a close.

I’ve covered a few important points in this ridiculous monologue. The success of FFXV as an examination of transience and the power of friendship, probably. Some stuff about Ardyn was in there as well I think.

I don’t know. This game didn’t have a great deal of closure and neither does this essay. But I feel like there was some good stuff in there. I wouldn’t have spent so much time on it, otherwise. I wouldn’t have loved so deeply if that moment of perfection had never happened.

But all good things come to pass. The game, Noctis, this essay. That’s it.

#final fantasy #final fantasy xv #ffxv #meta #essays #games

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