Games With Grey

Jade Empire’s central narrative is a profound specimen, alternating between innovativeness and derivativeness. Many failings – the greatest displays of genericness – are intimately wrapped up within the player character. In the narrative’s very opening, the player is provided the opportunity to select a character class and a character model – the developers apparently nurtured player freedom, flexibility. In actuality, neither of these choices matter, and the protagonist is defined by basicness; the player character contributes nothing substantial to the narrative. These decisions are partially understandable, to be sure – if the player character is a blank canvas, then the player can more easily imprint themselves upon the protagonist; this device has been employed countless times over, sometimes to spectacular effect. But not so in Jade Empire, for not only is the player character poorly developed, but they are also set aside, burdened with a terrible weight – the world’s savings, the entire Jade Empire’s saving, rests within the player character’s capable if weary hands. This added responsibility actually erodes the player / player character connection; were the player character human and grounded rather than impossibly elevated, endearment would thrive – the narrative would improve. Instead, on and on the narrative goes, winding about always. The player is informed as to the player character’s precise lineage, they belonging to a gifted line of spirit monks, powerful individuals slaughtered largely owing to their powers, their potentially threatening nature. The player character, then, belongs to that older world, though still forced to grapple with the troubles of this. The player character, so elevated, achieves an almost godlike status, instantly revered for his heritage – in developing this spirit monk subplot, the developers only increased the player character’s more alienating attributes, furthering detachment. But even if the player character’s presentation is flawed, narrative pacing is a profound success – Jade Empire can be a bit of a slow burn, compellingly so. Opening in Two Rivers, an academy dedicated to martial arts, their mastery, the narrative sees traversal all throughout the vast Jade Empire, new settlements, new NPCs and new obstacles encountered in turn. Encountered also is information; writing is prioritized here, though rather than overwhelming the player with walls of text, the delivery is gradual and thus digestible.

Even with its long and winding nature, the constant introduction of intrigue and complexity, the narrative structuring comes shy of perfection – there is the flawed player character, after all. These failures’ existence is particularly painful, in that Bioware were clearly ambitious in crafting their story, observable not only in its scope but also in the earnestness which runs throughout; their passion is instantaneously evident, and this sincerity becomes a powerful asset, one which results in considerable originality. But when considered in its minutia, predictability does indeed abound – the narrative winds though never explores unexpected roads. The spirit monks’ earlier existence sees dramatic expansion here, while the player character’s birthing circumstances are also fleshed out. From the first, the player character feels a strong connection with Master Li, a figure clearly wise and sagacious though one also resistant to violence, never delighting in it even as his daily existence revolves around violence’s exertion, instruction. After the tutorial act’s conclusion, a revelation is made – Master Li has a tangible and fierce link to the Jade Empire’s rulers, being estranged brother to the current Emperor. This status prompts assault – Two Rivers is besieged and razed, Master Li vanished. Two principal narrative threads are explored here, and one entire thread is dedicated to Master Li; the motivations present in the opening moments carry over to the last. Master Li is seemingly imperiled – he must be rescued. Urgency arises, too, in that the player character necessarily owes Master Li gratitude, in that that latter figure saved the former. It is a satisfying construction overall, though impactfulness is lessened in the concluding hours. The second narrative thread, though, is somewhat profounder, as the player character is forced to interrogate their background, their situation as spirit monk. This interrogation directly revolves around a fabled talisman discovered at the opening. Initially seeming an innocuous object, in actuality it is loaded with power. The existence of this swelling power limits its controllability – the sole surviving spirit monk is again set apart. Master Li desires the object; he cannot exploit it. The player character instinctively masters the object, and the link existing between them and the fabled water dragon – a waning deity whose reach once spread all throughout the Empire – is communicated. The player has agency here, is uniquely situated as to be the vessel for the water dragon’s altruistic objectives – the Empire’s restoration. Exploring two narrative threads simultaneously predisposes narrative failure. Ultimately – and even with the abundant fragmentation – the narrative is not a failure; again it is sustained by its writing, which permits it to transcend its periodic mundanity and cliché; crucially, Jade Empire is charming, heartfelt.

Just as Jade Empire’s narrative shows periodic fragmentation, presentation is similarly inconsistent – though mostly excellent. Presentation’s more negative aspects here are simply attributable to age, the hardware the title was developed for – the Xbox, and the somewhat more powerful PC platform. Texture quality generally can be poor, while graininess in cutscenes is a commonplace. This graininess is more observable when considering resolution manipulation – basic gameplay moments have seen resolution enhancement on the Xbox One platform, though cutscenes are unaltered, and their blurry nature is immediate indicator of the industry’s technological situation upon launch. Constrained or no, Jade Empire shows swelling creativity, which results in a strange sort of beauty – immersiveness abounds, as Bioware seized upon the ample potentialities inherent to an Asian-inspired world. Vibrancy is embraced throughout – sunsets are beautiful in their orange redness, while the foliage which is present is lush, equally crisp. But orange sunsets and red leaves can be found anywhere, in any game environment – they are beautiful but mundane, commonplace. But some objects emphasized here cannot be so easily replicated – consider only the pagoda’s prominent presence, that religious object looming majestically overhead in the Jade Empire’s more urban and sprawling environments, like the Imperial City, a beautiful place and the kingdom’s crowning jewel. Here in the capital are bridges and canals, while the city streets are fairly populated, though most NPCs are strikingly immobile. This one location – navigable only towards the late game – suggests prosperity and societal and cultural elevation; it is a delight to explore, tinged as it is with Asian stylistics.  

More meagre though equally beautiful locations are explored, too, like the less prosperous Tien’s Landing, a settlement founded at water’s edge, a settlement consequently dependent upon water for its continued existence, its potential thriving. Upon discovery, that sustaining dam has been sabotaged – trade suffers, as do the people, many innocent. It expectantly falls upon the player’s shoulders to rescues these citizens and merchants, and walking amongst them is rewarding indeed, in that this location generally is more grounded and sober than the sprawling Imperial City proper – contrasts erupt, and Tien’s Landing suggests a certain warfare, nature and civilization clashing; nature has not been entirely tamed in the empire, a principle observable also in the heavily forested regions, which serve a sharp connecting function, linking together the larger, urban areas. Some are somber in their dreariness – others are dazzling in their beauty. This aesthetical unpredictability only heightens the joys of exploration, a fantastic admission in that exploration sees dramatic emphasis. The environments themselves are not particularly sprawling, though places like the Imperial City are certainly exceptions. But an illusion of largeness is indeed communicated; the Jade Empire must be navigated by flying vessel – proceeding by foot is a failed endeavor: one must take to the skies. But whether in the air or on land; whether in the Imperial City or in the vast forests, charm again abounds, and the developers furthered this charm – and the overall world-building impulse – by implementing a complex fictional language, which grounds the entire experience. It is difficult to overpraise the presentation – creative – burdened only slightly by technological constraints.

Jade Empire’s combat and progression systems are personally quite divisive; it is easy to praise these systems for their straightforward simplicity, and simultaneously lament them for their shallowness. Being an RPG, it follows essentially every completed action rewards experience points – complete a quest, points are awarded; slaughter an opponent and again points are awarded – generic conventions are clung to. Problems arise, though, upon level-up. After raising a level, the player is provided attribute points which can in turn be expended to upgrade three distinct attributes, one influencing overall health values, the other two modifying focus and chi, each serving a vital gameplay function. That is the extent of the depth and flexibility here – invest in three distinct attributes. The streamlining is potentially impressive, while player empowerment must be acknowledged – it is theoretically possible to place all points in raising mind, naturally at the expense of body, a decision with potentially disastrous repercussions. But still one yearns for added depth. This yearning is especially intense when considering potential – a few added attributes or parameters would inject life into the gameplay. This is not to say it is entirely devoid of life, enjoyment, or complexity – gameplay and combat can be immensely enjoyable, basic though the progression systems are; shallowness and profoundness again vie for dominance. An additional failure, though, springs from the laughably basic character creation screen; none of the options made here have any lasting impact upon the subsequent experience, meaning these earlier decisions are trivial, seemingly included solely out of expectation. Each character class (if they can even be called so) has equal access to healing magic, for instance. In a profounder RPG experience, choice of character class would alter potency with magic – a dwarf might be incapable of healing entirely, while an adept elven mage might heal efficiently and with considerable ease. Not so with Jade Empire – here is another illustration of gameplay and progression basicness. 

The greatest source of gameplay depth, though, revolves around the various learnable and discoverable styles, objects which directly influence combat and the gameplay experience. They are very abundant; some two dozen styles are obtainable throughout the experience. In addition to their numerical abundance, these styles are wildly diverse in nature, though most are easily categorizable – some styles belong to a magic discipline, others are weapon-based, while still others are support styles which inflict no direct damage upon usage. Experimenting with these abilities is seemingly essential to success, leads also to swelling enjoyability and engagement – exchange a sword-based style for a magical one, or for a transformation one, and the experience fundamentally changes – at least in theory. Some styles are impossibly situational or inefficient in nature – they can be neglected and with fair ease; their exciting attributes are lacking considerably. Initially unlocking a new style does indeed result in a rush of excitement; seeing that excitements’ diminishment is distressing indeed. Worse still are these styles’ progression mechanics. Just as each level-up permits the player to enhance their three core attributes, level-ups also provide the player with style points, which can in turn be expended to upgrade styles. Fair enough – here is further genre adherence. But these systems are inherently flawed, at least in the sense that they also are – expectantly – painfully basic. Each individual style has three distinct branches, and while any branch can be pursued, another neglected, progression through these trees is sequential, scripted. Consider only a weapon style, specifically the sword style (which I relied upon heavily throughout my playthrough). With this style’s upgradability, the player can increase attack speed, damage upon successful attack, and can also reduce the focus cost accompanying each individual action. That is the extent of progression, as is the case with almost all distinct styles. While it can be fairly satisfying – and absolutely necessary – to increase overall damage output, more often than not these progression systems are unexciting, many character growth is unexciting. The experience of sword wielding at the narrative’s conclusion is functionally identical to swordplay at the narrative’s opening – a fair degree of gameplay staticness exists here, even as progression is seemingly emphasized. Had more maneuvers been unlocked, for instance, had the player been given more active abilities within any given style, gameplay would see dramatic improvement. Worse still is the gating which occurs here – it is far too easy to invest in a style and accordingly rely upon it for protracted spans of time, even if its usage and efficiency wanes, or its novelty and charm dissipates. If countless points are dumped into the sword style, for instance, and then the sword style is replaced and never used again, then all of the invested points are entirely wasted, only incentivizing reliance upon a few central styles; experimentation suffers; combat depth is dealt another sharp blow, as is flexibility.  

Even if Jade Empire’s progression systems are painfully basic and uninvolved, combat on a mechanic level is a profound and engaging experience, one which is consistently exhilarating. In many ways, tropes of more action-oriented genres have been adopted here; the player can leap about the environments – frequently combat arenas – dodging enemy blows, or becoming poised to instead take the offensive. Enemies can be bounded over gracefully, and these sequences’ impactfulness is only enhanced by the mostly spectacular animation quality; jankiness is rejected here, and the player character, that spirit monk, is clearly a singularly acrobatic individual. This excellent animation quality extends to each distinct style, too, helping to distinguish one from another. The marital arts style thousand cuts is characterized by especially rapid blows, the player character punching and punching with fair haste. The damage output of these blows is frequently slight, though the animation communicates a certain freneticism. Magical styles are also masterfully animated – seeing arms and fists in motion as fire or ice magic is being weaved is another source of stylization. Crucially, too, vacillating from style to style is seamless and intuitive, in that four distinct styles can be mapped to a direction on the d-pad; cycling between them, even in the heat of battle, is easily done indeed, meaning the player need never consult menus while in open combat, provided careful skill mapping has been achieved. And ultimately – and masterfully – in many scenarios the player is forced to rely upon multiple styles in turn, in that many encountered enemies have immunities – specters cannot be damaged by human weaponry, meaning the player must rely upon magic, fist, or foot. Similarly, some enemies resist all forms of magic; that combat approach is, in that particular instance, made unusable. These varying immunities’ implementation heighten the tensions of combat, simultaneously increasing player engagement – in most scenarios, mashing the attack button wildly, paying little attention to self or to overall health values or the enemy type faced, results in death or a more painful experience – theoretically. By the late game – if attribute and style points have been expended carefully – the difficulty curve does level off somewhat; the final boss, Master Li, was dispatched swiftly and easily. More arrogant RPG players who cling to the genre exclusively for narrative purposes might be alienated by this action-central approach, though this approach only increases accessibility – cerebralness and bombasticness both exist in Jade Empire.

Jade Empire, then, is a unique mix of genre – wonderful originality in gameplay exists here. Pacing can be somewhat inconsistent though, in that gaps separating more involved gameplay sequences are sometimes massive in scope – it is not uncommon to discourse with NPCs, to complete quests amongst and for those characters, to navigate the worlds they inhabit, for hours at a time – mundanity and slowness thrive as discourse predominates. These sequences’ largeness inevitably makes the player yearn for the more bombastic sequences. When they come, then, they are welcomed enthusiastically – combatting specter, ogre, or elephant demon after hearing an NPC prattle on about petty problems is a refreshing occurrence; genre relationships in Jade Empire are profound. But not all NPCs show such pettiness – the narrative, so brimming with heart and emotion, is a compelling and engaging construction indeed. But even with the general vibrancy and imaginativeness observable within the world design, the narrative delivery generally is very flawed. For the most part, these sequences are static: the speaker is framed, their words uttered, and these words are then captioned at the bottom of the screen. That is almost the entire extent of narrative presentation, though some basic camera manipulation is present, the player character emphasized while engaging in the dialogue process. Presentation’s basicness greatly damages immersion, and the voice acting is sometimes laborious and tedious in delivery – it is far quicker to simply read the dialogue than listen to it. And, given the massive quantity of voice acting, it follows it is sometimes inconsistent in quality, tragic when considering the added exertions inherent to prominent voice acting. These static cutscenes are far from a dramatic failure; for all their basicness and for the periodic failures in line delivery, they are carried by the generally excellent writing. This excellence is sharply tempered, though, by laughable morality systems – moral ambiguity is completely absent here, and there is no real reason to respond and act negatively for anything other than role-playing purposes.

The narrative, then, generally succeeds, though sometimes suffering owing to its twin ambitions, one revolving around the player character’s self-discovery, the other Master Li’s pursuit. But all great narratives possess swelling ambition – by this measure, Jade Empire’s narrative is profound indeed, as painstaking efforts were made to establish a world and a sense of place, to carefully develop occurrences – turmoil and struggle – within that world.  Complementing these strengths is the compelling gameplay, certainly streamlined and intuitive though not totally consumed by shallowness. Most essentially, streamlining does not equate to lessened strategy or overall player engagement. It does, however, prompt heightened focus, a considerable asset, especially within the sometimes overwrought and needlessly complicated RPG genre. Reflecting this principle, in hyperfocused Jade Empire the player is repeatedly engaged while in any given combat scenario, as health values must be considered, as focus must also be gauged – is it better to preserve focus for offensive magic, or used it for restorative purposes? Is it better to advance or evade? Questions such as these abound, only suggesting further depth, nuisance; action elements are implemented perfectly. In a major missed opportunity, though, a basic equipment screen is present, largely revolving around the water dragon’s amulet. Stones for the object are discoverable in the simple act of navigation, while each object when equipped serves a passive function – increasing body, mind, spirit, and the like, also altering more minor parameters like intimidation or intuition. Dozens of these will be found in any given playthrough, and dozens are entirely useless. Had Bioware simply implemented a fusion system of sorts, enabled the player to combine gems and create more powerful ones, another avenue for player engagement and self-expression would present itself. Occasional missed opportunities or no, Jade Empire abounds in enjoyability, transcending hardware limitations; creativity swells. Complaints of shallows are periodically justifiable, absolutely. But sufficient gameplay depth exists here as to sustain the player throughout the winding and mostly compelling central narrative, one defined by ambition – though one ultimately subject to faltering; the concluding hours’ intense linearity clashes greatly with the more open-ended approach observed elsewhere, meaning the end game feels decidedly detached from the early game, at least from a pacing perspective. But the experience broadly is rewarding. Rewarding also are the evident displays of the developers’ swelling passions, their intense reverence for both this individual title and the industry broadly.