In Which Our Hero Waxes Nostalgic Regarding Chrono Trigger in Good Morning Providence.

Kotaku, the online tabloid, a self-appointed authority on all matters pertaining to electronic gaming and anime/Japanese culture, showcased an article on Chrono Trigger, among the best video games released on any console. To celebrate this milestone in gaming history, it showcased among one of the most memorable aspects of the game: its score- Composed by prodigy, Yasunori Mitsuda, (who would later go on to produce the equally haunting music of Xenogears, my definitive favorite) . While gaming has grown less relevant to me in the last decade, between the link to the Kotaku article in my Facebook feed, and the hours of my childhood spent exploring every facet of the game, I’ve grown fairly sentimental and reasonably misty over something that was complicit in depriving me of a proper social life as a preteen. Where other kids had their competitive sports, scout troupes, science camps, and the like, my summers were spent shielded from UVB, slouched against the bedside of my bedroom, in the radioactive glow of CRT screens, helping Chrono, that ginger spiky-haired teenage mute and his ragtag bunch of six erstwhile pals vanquish a Lovecraftian-inspired god from the core of a small, navigable planet.
Having played through Final Fantasy 6, or watching my older brother get through the areas which presented with the most difficulty, I developed a taste for RPG’s, or what would later be pejoratively referred to as ‘turn-based,’ or ‘JRPG’s, ‘ growing deeply immersed in their intricate plotlines, intrigued by their characters and somehow compelled to play from morning to sunset. To a certain extent, I was very much a latchkey kid from ten to eleven, able to prepare my own (not so healthy) food, and to remain fully occupied by interactive entertainment. After sixty hours of playing through, and saving another fictitious Earth, I was introduced to (then) Squaresoft’s time-travelling epic(/och). Where many in preceding generations had that bunkmate at Camp in whom they could confide, or that friend with whom they went fishing at a nearby pond, the company I kept over those summers was a storyteller like no other, instilling valuable life lessons in ethics, commerce, and micromanagement, not to mention a rudimentary understanding of physics.
Though the turn-based J-RPG formula, according to an increasingly overstimulated throng, overstayed its welcome in this era of preponderant testosterone-saturated first-person shooters, and “Western RPG’s” which mendaciously present the illusion of choice, the Chrono Trigger experience, however, is not one to be forgotten. You’re presented the name selection screen, your character’s Akira Toriyama-illustrated icon appearing in the upper left hand corner. You’re limited to five characters, to keep things simple. To imply a roaring sea, the SPC700 chip hisses and chirps, as a small cluster of coarsely rendered clouds hover abnormally quick overhead. A flock of minimally pixelated seagulls cast shadows over the small, modern day continent you call home. Your one-dimensional mother pulls open the blinds of the only bedroom in the two-story house, making mention of the Millennial Fair, handing you an allowance of 500 GP, which can be used to play any number of games thereabouts. You’re off to see your best friend Lucca, a violet-haired, bespectacled genius, who is assisting her father with a time travel demonstration. The map screen is accompanied by soft, cheery, replicated strings. While passing through the colorful, bustling town square, where you can distract yourself through a soda-guzzling contest, betting on a footrace, or fighting Gato, Lucca’s rapping robot for Silver points, the Millennial Fair’s currency. Passing into the next vertical screen, you dramatically crash into a blonde, comely young woman with the slightest tap, sending a small sparkle flying from her neck. Charitably, you approach her to ensure that all’s well, then investigate the discarded flicker, which happens to be a pendant. You present it to the young woman, who introduces herself as Marle, the King’s headstrong daughter, who lives a fairly restrictive existence. The two venture to Lucca’s exhibition, where Marle’s pendant causes a rift to open in the genius engineer’s device. Marle is taken into the rift, sending her five-hundred years into the past, thus ushering in a grand journey across time and space.
The journey taken is one of many dialectics and upheavals, marked by humanity’s triumphs against a race of reptilian humanoids, “enlightened ones,” “Mystics,” and cyborgs across the span of several accessible points in history. Decisions made 65-million years in the past make reverberations throughout the future.
The entire experience is set to a beautiful score, which captures the intensity of each sequence effectively. From the frenzied tom-tom of the prehistoric ages, the light pizzicato of the Dark Ages, to the dismal chime of a bleak Lavos-devestated future, Yasunori Mitsuda succeeds in embedding the entire experience into the player’s psyche, preserving an experience for the remainder of one’s existence.
To better establish the profound impact this game bears, the game has been successfully ported in four iterations: Playstation 1, Playstation Store, Nintendo’s 3DS, and most recently interfaced for mobile phones and tablets.
I now feel somewhat compelled to play again, though the SNES is long gone, and my cartridge is among my best friend’s possessions (though he will dispute this.).

Last updated April 02, 2015