The Legend of Dragon Quest E-Book

Daniel Andreyev

• Herausgeber: Third Editions
• Kategorie: Wissenschaft und neue Technologien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 370

Beschreibung

Discover all the secrets and mechanics of the famous Japanese video game Dragon Quest !

This book looks back at the entire Dragon Quest saga, tells the story of the series' birth, retraces its history and deciphers its mechanics.

In this book, the author shares us all his expertise and his passion in Japanese gaming to decipher the creation and the story of this saga and his creator, Yuji Horii.

EXTRAIT

Even with only limited knowledge of Japanese and somewhat difficult technical conditions, the story was very well told. This was perhaps what surprised players most. Dragon Quest V is a large family cycle of emotions, as transparent as an epic tale by Alexandre Dumas, the author of famous works such as The Three Musketeers. In the end, I was lucky that my first taste of the series was this excellent episode, since VI was far more extravagant, with its tales of parallel universes and heroes traveling on flying beds. A slightly puzzling game, but not without levity nor offbeat humor. One of the most emotional moments of Dragon Quest V is when we end up going back in time to change the past, thus saving the future. The time travel theme has been so often used in science fiction, particularly during the 1980s, that it should have left me impassive. It was not even the first time I had experienced it in a video game. But this adventure, with its simple graphics and persistent melodies, glanced lightly upon feelings that leave no one unmoved. “What would I have done differently if I could have changed things” is a very common concept used in fiction, from A Distant Neighborhood by Jirô Taniguchi to the Quantum Leap series. Well-told, it is so simple and so effective that it affects each and every one of us.

CE QU'EN PENSE LA CRITIQUE

Un libre passionnant que j'ai dévoré au point de rogner sur mes heures de sommeil. Ici, l'auteur ne nous bassine pas avec des tartines de textes pour nous conter avec détails l'histoire de chaque épisode, les ventes incommensurables de la série ou encore un almanach des jeux estampillés DraQue. - Kaisermeister, Sens Critique

Un livre plein d’anecdotes qui feront vibrer votre corde nostalgique et qui donne envie, une fois terminé, de replonger dans l'aventure. - neotsubasa, Sens Critique

C'est une biographie très détaillée, riche en anecdotes et bien romancée, Yuji Horii est un personnage fascinant au CV bien rempli et la genèse de la saga est tout aussi passionnante à tel point que j'ai parfois eu du mal à décrocher. - Nixotane, Sens Critique

À PROPOS DE L'AUTEUR

Daniel Andreyev is an author and journalist of Russian origin. His career in video game journalism began twenty years ago, during the golden years of video gaming, with Player One, Consoles + and Animeland, with a particular interest in Japan. Having spent some time on translation, he is now part of the New Games Journalism movement, which places the player at the heart of the video game experience. He produces the After Hate and Super Ciné Battle podcasts. He also trades memories with his friends in Gaijin Dash, the Gamekult show on Japanese video games. He is a fan of far too many things to list them all here. But when he is not writing, not watching a movie, not reading comics and graphic novels, not climbing mountains or exploring ruined buildings, he might be cooking, exercising or dreaming of one day owning a dog.

Leseprobe

For Lina.

The Legend of Dragon Questby Daniel Andreyev Published by Third Éditions 32, rue dAlsace-Lorraine, 31000 TOULOUSE, France [email protected]

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All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, in whole or in part, without the written authorization of the copyright holder.

Copying or reproducing this work by any means constitutes an infringement subject to the penalties stipulated in copyright protection law n°. 57 298 of 11 March 1957

The Third logo is a registered trademark of Third Éditions in France and in other countries.

Edition by: Nicolas Courcier and Mehdi El Kanafi Editorial assistants: Damien Mecheri and Clovis Salvat Texts by: Daniel Andreyev Proofreading: Zoé Sofer and Jérémy Daguisé Layout: Bruno Provezza Cover Layout: Frédéric Tomé Classic edition cover: Johann “Papayou” Blais Collector’s edition cover: Tony Valente Cover assembly: Frédéric Tomé Translated from French by: Mary Tissot (ITC Traductions)

This educational work is Third Éditions’ tribute to the Dragon Quest game series.

The author presents an overview of the history of the Dragon Quest game in this one-of-a-kind volume that lays out the inspirations, the context and the content of these titles through original analysis and discussion.

Dragon Quest is a registered trademark of Square Enix. All rights reserved. The cover illustration is inspired by artwork from the Dragon Quest series.

English edition, copyright 2018, Third Éditions. All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-2-37784-034-2

DANIEL ANDREYEV

Daniel Andreyev is an author and journalist of Russian origin. His career in video game journalism began twenty years ago, during the golden years of video gaming, with Player One, Consoles + and Animeland, with a particular interest in Japan. Having spent some time on translation, he is now part of the New Games Journalism movement, which places the player at the heart of the video game experience. He produces the After Hate and Super Ciné Battle podcasts. He also trades memories with his friends in Gaijin Dash, the Gamekult show on Japanese video games. He is a fan of far too many things to list them all here. But when he is not writing, not watching a movie, not reading comics and graphic novels, not climbing mountains or exploring ruined buildings, he might be cooking, exercising or dreaming of one day owning a dog.

FOREWORD

HERE BE DRAGONS

I was a latecomer to Dragon Quest. In Japan this videogame series is now, after decades of success, a part of the culture—but for a European like me it has always felt much more exotic than that. Many of the early entries I played on Nintendo DS in the mid-2000s, decades after their original release. These were not just wonderful videogames but archaeological treasures, restored for new players and—thanks to the localizations—made new once again.

Dragon Quest as a whole I leave to this book’s author, the heroic and hardy Daniel Andreyev. I first met Daniel in Japan and he regaled me with endless detail about all sorts of Japanese games, but even then, his passion for Dragon Quest stood out, and it is a series that rewards passion. These worlds are built to be poured-over, and luxuriated in, forever rewarding their most curious and dedicated players.

There are a few minor observations I would make about Dragon Quest. The first time these games struck me as special was around a decade ago, and the reason was a specific translation for English-speaking regions. Dragon Quest IV was re-released for Nintendo DS in 2007, and its localization used a total of 13 different English dialects to diversify the towns: you begin the game listening to Scottish accents, soon enough meet Bristolians, and even bump into English speakers with French accents. This was a new interpretation of the old game, replacing an earlier localization. It got some criticism.

But it really brought that world to life again, and made these places seem bustling and distinct. I live near Bristol so it was stunning to see that particular accent represented in this world, and the effort sometimes required to understand what characters were saying—you’d almost have to read the lines phonetically—felt to me like an accurate reflection of travelling to remote places within your own country, where your countrymen’s accents can be hard to keep up with.

This is also a striking example of how the series has been changed over its history for new audiences. A few years later saw the release of Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Skies, designed for the ground-up for the Nintendo DS, and released swiftly afterwards in the west. Here was a completely modern Dragon Quest and to this day I’ve never had another experience like it: where the other games in the series are grand single player adventures, here you could play online with others and do almost everything together.

Dragon Quest IX became a lunchtime game for myself and my workmates, played religiously every day for months and often with sessions stretching off into the evenings. We would go on quests together, take down huge monsters and bag great loot, but what kept it appealing for so long was the joy of adventuring with friends. Where Dragon Quest had always meant solo play, with this it became a group endeavor and, in the way it bridged single player and multiplayer, felt like the future. Dragon Quest X would take this concept to an extreme by being fully online, though sadly this means it is yet to see a western release and may never.

Such are the frustrations of a western Dragon Quest fan. Often, we play the games years later, and surely few of us have managed to play them in anything like the original order of release. It is sometimes frustrating. But it also leads to unexpected oases, a break from the ‘normal’ life of a videogame obsessive. I recently returned to Dragon Quest VIII, which was re-released on the 3DS. In the era of Breath of the Wild, this early attempt at an open world couldn’t help but feel at first a little bare. But I remembered more, and I stuck with it.

Soon I had been taken away, and it was not nostalgia. It was the beautiful overworld score of Koichi Sugiyama, elevating these flat plains and blue skies into something faintly paradisal. The jaunty town themes and townspeople, who soon had me running every kind of errand. Toriyama’s touching and hilarious character designs, from rough-and-tumble heroes to cackling rogues and everything in-between. The sometimes-pitiful enemies and jokey quests escalating into terrible foes and an epic journey, all stitched-together by Yuji Horii to feel like your own awfully big adventure.

Videogames are inseparable from technology, and as technology improves the classics of one age fade away. Dragon Quest continues to survive and thrive because of the quality of its craftsmanship. These are games made by masters. However and whenever we get them, they shine like jewels.

I can’t think of a better companion for these adventures than Daniel. Enjoy the journey, and may the Goddess guide you.

Rich Stanton

RICHARD STANTON

One of the best writers in video game journalism, Richard Stanton is a true veteran who has done the rounds of the British press from Edge magazine to The Guardian, Eurogamer, IGN and Rock Paper Shotgun. He is the author of A brief history of Video Games, a book which traces the epic history of video games throughout the ages. Today he works for Kotaku UK.

PREFACE

SIMPLICITY has almost ceased to exist and attempting to explain soon becomes a nightmare. We lose ourselves in metaphors and synonyms when everything is there, before our eyes, even in video games. So let’s begin with the fragrance of nostalgia, because that is what I like and that is the very heart of Dragon Quest.

It was a summer’s day in 2000 in Japan. Regulars say that summer is not the best season for visiting because of the heat. And they are right. Everyone is trying to get out of the city, which has become a furnace. We are nothing more than pools of sweat, wandering from one air-conditioned shop to another. But back then, I had a very good reason for being in Tokyo. To be precise, it is August 26, in Akihabara, and the queues are growing longer in the video games district. Reservations are not commonplace in the kombini, Amazon is not the huge international distributor that we now know, so it is still worth waiting outside. Pre-3G and smartphone Japan was a totally different country.

Seikimatsu. A feeling often experienced by regular visitors to Japan. It describes the impression of the end of an era. A nation condemned to perpetual reconstruction by nature itself. And in this odd moment, there is a sense that this is also the last major release of a video game, an event capable of bringing so many people together. A few months previously, for PlayStation 2, helicopters were hovering over the district. The queues wind around buildings, into the park behind the department stores. Incidentally, the park with its basketball court no longer exists, because things always have to change. Soon, people won’t even have to leave their homes. So this August 26, 2000 is a celebration: the arrival of Dragon Quest VII for PlayStation. On the sidewalk, a camera moves towards me, delighted to find a gaijin. Dragon Quest is still an all-Japanese phenomenon, enjoying only a tiny speck of success in the West, dating back to the NES era. When PlayStation 2 came out, foreigners flooded into Akihabara to buy their many consoles, but by August, they had vanished, as if they had melted in the sun. The huge camera turns its lens towards me and asks why I’m here and what I think of Dragon Quest. Totally alone and not yet used to TV, in a language I do not yet master, I mumble out some kind of vapid answer. I think I said something like “Because it’s brilliant.” Wow, well done.

That evening, in the little business hotel where I was staying that time, in a minute and not particularly comfortable room, I switched on the TV. Young tourists may not realize this but then, almost all hotels charged for use of the TV. Every set had a coin slot. A hundred yen for one hour. An evening in front of the TV for the price of ramen, roughly. That night, I came across the release of Dragon Quest VII in Akihabara. Much more interesting than me and my shy punchlines, the smiling, short-haired girl interviewed after me hesitated, thought for a moment, before saying: “Dragon Quest is actually very simple... fundamental even,” as if she had drawn from her own memories, her own nostalgia, to answer the journalist. She was quite right, Dragon Quest, a simple video game, connects primarily with the eternal child that resides inside us.

While I was writing this book, a close friend sent me the new advert for the release of Dragon Quest XI. He added a cheeky: “The campaign for your book’s not bad.” The advert states: “And so we became heroes.” There are Dragon Quest players of all ages, using all kinds of consoles. The ad starts with the same familiar fanfare found in all the episodes. All players, children, teens, adults, are represented from the salaryman rushing home to finish his session to the kid dreaming of teleportation, from the guy waiting in the rain for a new episode to be released to the girl studying, with a handwritten note pinned to the wall: “No Dragon Quest until exams are over,” from school kids reading the guide-book during recess to mom demanding that the console be switched off for dinner. This advert is accurate in so many ways, even down to the accidental unplugging that we have probably all experienced! This series, more than any other, invites nostalgia. These two minutes remind us of who we are at a specific moment, where we come from and what brings us together.

This is where I come from. My first Dragon Quest was V. I still remember its crushed cardboard box. The logo caught my eye in the aisles of a second-hand game store in République, the video games district in Paris, especially in the 1990s. At the time, France was all about Dragon Ball Z. Fans everywhere were seeking out even the most trivial representation of Son Gokû and his family. The Internet as we know it did not exist. We were alert for news. We would try to piece together bits of the coming story with the first shitajiki1 or a simple picture from a magazine, and let our imaginations run wild. The cover of the fifth volume represented so much: an invitation to travel, a long quest and a love story. The torn clothes and walking stick of the main character suggest a complicated journey. The cape recalls the post-apocalyptic costumes of Fist of the Northstar, while the hat, a kind of wound turban, is a direct reference to Son Gokû’s clothes when he comes back as an adult from a long training session. The unique style of Toriyama is most obvious in the faces of the two heroes, gazing out towards the horizon, haircuts very reminiscent of Yamcha and Bulma. The sabretooth, which we assume to be both aggressive and loyal, reminds us of Cringer, the fighting companion of He-Man in Masters of the Universe. The little dragon makes me think of Lockheed, Kitty Pryde’s pet in X-Men and, let’s be honest here, who doesn’t like baby dragon mascots? The range of colors reflects the good taste of Toriyama’s beautiful drawings from those years. The balance between the sabretooth’s black spots and the white of the hero’s tunic is sublime, enhancing the other colors. The composition is also perfect. At the foot of the main character, Slime, the legendary monster of the series, adds a comical aspect to the illustration. I would realize only later that this was the first time that the “Pikachu of Dragon Quest” was depicted on the cover of a game of the series. Akira Toriyama took care to allow certain elements to extend slightly beyond his frame. The picture makes perfect use of the vertical format of Super Famicom cartridges, which were original at a time when most were horizontal. Even today, I still think that it is one of the most beautiful video game illustrations ever.

And so, I purchased a game for its cover. It was an impulse buy, a bit like choosing games for the screenshots on the back of the box. Of course, back then, with less information available and less experienced sales staff, that was what we often did. I could go on with the illustration of the instructions, which shows the same hero as on the cover, but younger, in the company of a mustached, square-built chap who, at first glance, appears to be his father.

As soon as I got home, I slid the cartridge into my console. And then, fantasy became reality. In 1992, Dragon Quest V was an RPG that was somewhat dull to watch. As was often said, “It arrived a generation too late.” The graphics were not that different from those of the old NES. A lot of imagination was required to see the little splotches of pixels as the brave traveler depicted on the game cover. But in spite of the not-so-exciting first impression, I persisted. What made me persevere at first was the prospect of a story that covered several generations. Phantasy Star III: Generations of Doom was already available on Megadrive, proposing the exhilaration of an epic poem, relayed over several decades. The Dragon Quest V adventure relates a long family saga covering more than half a century. I did not know then that the Dragon Quest series was based on the traditional pattern of the “elected hero,” like Avatar, the main character of Ultima.

I then bought the guide books from a Japanese bookshop in downtown Paris, partly for the same reason as I had bought the game: beautiful illustrations. These proved vital considering the laborious and complicated nature of certain passages. My Japanese was very rudimentary then, but I had faith: only a short time before, I had managed to finish Breath of Fire in Japanese. Even so, you had to be keen to get through Dragon Quest V. Paradoxically, with today’s enthusiasm for retro-gaming, it would go down quite well.

Even with only limited knowledge of Japanese and somewhat difficult technical conditions, the story was very well told. This was perhaps what surprised players most. Dragon Quest V is a large family cycle of emotions, as transparent as an epic tale by Alexandre Dumas, the author of famous works such as The Three Musketeers. In the end, I was lucky that my first taste of the series was this excellent episode, since VI was far more extravagant, with its tales of parallel universes and heroes traveling on flying beds. A slightly puzzling game, but not without levity nor offbeat humor. One of the most emotional moments of Dragon Quest V is when we end up going back in time to change the past, thus saving the future. The time travel theme has been so often used in science fiction, particularly during the 1980s, that it should have left me impassive. It was not even the first time I had experienced it in a video game. But this adventure, with its simple graphics and persistent melodies, glanced lightly upon feelings that leave no one unmoved. “What would I have done differently if I could have changed things” is a very common concept used in fiction, from A Distant Neighborhood by Jirô Taniguchi to the Quantum Leap series. Well-told, it is so simple and so effective that it affects each and every one of us.

It was also around about then that my father would come into my room to see what I was up to. I was always playing Dragon Quest. He laughed at me, at my game and its characters who were following each other around. It even led to him coming up with a silly nickname for RPGs. As a true descendant of the Russian intelligentsia, he hated video games. Totally unyielding. I never managed to explain what I got from those hours spent glued to my screen. Since then, I have wanted to share the things I love. In my work, I try to understand why a work can create an emotion, convey something. And so, I will not fail you.

As I bring this preface to its conclusion, I am celebrating twenty years as a journalist and twice that in years. It just so happens that Dragon Quest is also celebrating its thirtieth anniversary. So many reasons to celebrate with a book.

If you are reading this today, I would like to thank you for your confidence. I am also counting on you, assuming that you know what an RPG is. And that you have heard of Akira Toriyama. The purpose of this book is not to review all the Dragon Quest games. I have no intention of summarizing the sometimes bizarre adventures that players can encounter, or of reviewing the characters of every episode. Do not expect a full alphabetical list of all the monsters either—that would bore the both of us. The same applies to details of sales and versions, listed line by line on Wikipedia. This book is not an almanac — there are plenty of perfectly good official Japanese publications for that. I cannot illustrate my ideas either, which makes the job somewhat tricky.

What has always interested me in video game journalism is not “How many levels,” “How many weapons” or “How many characters can you play.” The real question is why. This book looks at “Why Dragon Quest?” My goal is to describe the creation and development of a series, a legend, a commercial success, a sociological phenomenon, and my private passion. In short, I aim to get you interested and entertain you.

“Simplicity,” as Bruce Lee said, “is the key to brilliance.” In the simplest manner possible, I therefore invite you to join me in the imaginary world of Dragon Quest.

1 Literally “under-sheets,” these document holders were made of plastic whose flexibility and transparency varied according to the versions. Rarely used in offices, they are generally sought out by collectors for their illustrations and the series from which they are taken.

INTRODUCTION

WHAT IS DRAGON QUEST?

“Forget what you are escaping from. Reserve your anxiety for what you are escaping to.”

Michael Chabon,The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.

THIS is a story that begins, quite literally, with a fanfare. The opening of the very first Dragon Quest begins with synthetic horns. Precisely ten seconds of 8-bit instruments. A brief pause, then it begins. The main melody sets in, far more imposing and grandiloquent, accompanied by a screen that tirelessly invites you to begin the adventure: press “Start.” These arrangements vary over time and with each episode, the horns become trumpets and synthesizers become orchestras, but the intention remains the same. For generations of Japanese players, these emblematic melodies are the signature of Japan’s greatest ever role play series. Just a few notes let you know that you are setting out on a long journey. The theme reminds us that even the longest voyage begins with a single step, and that it is up to the player to face the dangers.

One thing that was very rare at the time is that not one, but three names are associated with the creation of this video game. It became customary to see their names displayed at the start of every session, in a deferential silence, before the sounds of the brass burst in. Yûji Horii, Akira Toriyama, Kôichi Sugiyama. In that order. This trio of artists represent the soul of Dragon Quest, the foundation stone of Japanese RPGs, the series that created the clichés of a style and even coined expressions that are now in popular use. Their work can be summed up by three modest concepts: adventure, simplicity, love.

Dragon Quest is not the oldest Japanese role-playing game, but it was almost certainly the spearhead and the first massive cultural phenomenon of its kind in Japan. Thirty years on, this name, which has since become a style and a trademark, is revered by players, for whom it means the promise of an epic adventure with a taste of nostalgia. It is, of course, also a label symbolizing a colossal commercial empire. Three decades have seen around ten canonical episodes and as many spin-offs on all generations of games consoles. In Japan alone, more than sixty million copies of Dragon Quest have been sold, all versions.

DRAGON QUEST: A HARD-HITTING NAME

Yûji Horii came up with the sober but forceful title. He explains1 that he chose this name because it combines the word “Dragon,” which is meaningful to everyone, with “Quest,” an enigmatic word with multiple meanings. When choosing the name, Yûji Horii recalled a lesson from his time at Gekigasonjuku school, founded by Kazuo Koike2. His mentor and friend told him one day that it was wise to associate one word that was easy to remember with another more complicated word. He also claimed that titles starting with the sounds “T” and “D” are much easier to remember for Japanese people. Young Horii remembered this advice when creating his major production.

A detail of importance is the choice of the western word “Dragon.” He could have used the regular Japanese word, “Ryû.” He had the choice. The word ryû has its own share of implications, and can be written with two different kanjis: and . The first implies a degree of animality, like a large lizard3, while the second, the traditional version, is more complex, incorporating a sacred, even divine dimension4. Paradoxically, dragons are not really the issue in Dragon Quest, at least, not to begin with. As we will see, the Japanese public would soon latch on. And, like everything that becomes popular, it was given a nickname. People started talking about “DraQue” (), following the tradition of taking the first two syllables of a compound name. A smart, effective and unique abbreviation. No risk of confusing DraQue with another game.

THE HERO FIGURE IN 1986

Dragon Quest, the first Japanese RPG for the general public, defined the codes of a whole genre and an entire industry, at least in terms of the hero. As in the first Zelda no Densetsu, released a few months before the first Dragon Quest, the protagonist does not speak. His contribution to conversation is limited to the choice between “yes” or “no.” This could be considered, if not as a sign of laziness, at least as an economical solution. However, the approach remains the same: the hero is at the heart of the adventure. “Generally speaking, I think that a protagonist who speaks ends up distancing the player. He plays as if the character is an extension of himself. In this case, why would the avatar suddenly start speaking?” explains Yûji Horii, in a joint interview with Shigeru Miyamoto, legendary creator of Mario and Zelda5. Horii develops his idea: “[The player] is playing as though the character is an extension of himself, so why is his avatar suddenly speaking of its own accord? He’ll be struck with the realization that the character he’s been thinking of as himself up until now is actually someone else entirely.”

For the thirtieth anniversary of Dragon Quest, its publisher, Square Enix, organized a get-together for fans, with an exhibition on the series6. Ten life-sized portraits of the heroes of the saga were gathered together in a huge room at the entrance. Ironically, a single Roman numeral was marked above the heads of the protagonists, all lined up in the hall in decreasing order. On the publisher’s official communication documents, the only indication is “Shûjinkô”7, which simply means “hero.” Yûji Horii’s original idea was to place the player at the heart of the game, rather like those books in which the reader is the hero. In another room, dioramas showed major scenes of the various games. A fat tradesman being pursued by a wild waterfall, a traveler giving a ribbon to a killer sabretooth and, of course, some of the majestic fights against demons. The message is that the important thing is to experience the adventure.

A UNIQUE SUCCESS

On May 27, 1986, more than five hundred thousand copies of the first episode of the series were put on sale in Japan. By the end of the year, Enix had sold a million, reports Yukinobu Chida8, producer of the series since it began. Although Dragon Quest caused a shock-wave in Japan, the western world had to wait to discover these fantastic adventures.

The first episodes were released in the US, but under the name Dragon Warrior due to legal issues9. In 1980, there was already a traditional Medieval fantasy role-playing game called DragonQuest, published by Simulation Publication. This situation lasted until 2003, when Square Enix finally succeeded in registering its name for the North American market.

Although France was much more open to mangas and animes, Dragon Quest was only really known because of the fame of its artist, Akira Toriyama. Fans saw it as the author’s other success, marginal alongside Dragon Ball. The first work related to DraQue to reach France was the cartoon Fly, or Daino Daibôken, its original title, based on a manga published by Shûeisha10. Ironically, in this modest initial contact with the French public, the manga never mentions the games series on which it was based, and its link with Toriyama is not cited once. It is not even a canonical episode that starts the ball rolling in Europe, but a spin-off on Game Boy Color, Dragon Warrior Monsters, released on January 25, 199911. It was some time before the public made the logical connection between “Dragon,” “Quest,” “Toriyama” and “RPG.”

PRINCIPLE

In time, what ultimately best defines Dragon Quest is the almost rustic simplicity of the games. A way of producing what I call the “ligne claire” of RPG, in reference to the graphic style of the Belgian school of comic drawings. This style describes a desire to get directly to the point, with limited resources and few special effects. What is essential here, marking an obvious similarity with these comics, is not only the simple line, but its legibility. Choices are precise and strict, even for details that could be considered as unimportant. Dragon Quest, as we will often see in this book, represents the incarnation of this ligne claire in the world of RPG.

The industry as a whole pushes the games towards sensationalism, with major productions becoming more like movies in their narrative approach. Yûji Horii, throughout his career, wanted to tell stories, making do with what he had, almost in opposition to the techniques of his era. It is not by chance that the sound effects have remained almost unchanged over the years either. From one episode to another, the same sounds are used for an opening door or for climbing stairs. When the characters accomplish a level of experience, a few high notes of a melody, generally the same one, ring out. It may be seen as old-fashioned to use always the same library of sounds, but it is also a very intelligent strategy. Even before retro-gaming gained popularity and became a trend, these sounds had become memory triggers to which the Japanese public responded.

To help understand the importance of Dragon Quest in the collective subconsciousness of Japan, we must go back to the beginning. Discussing this series implies describing its atypical creators, at the exact time when the industry was taking shape and getting organized. Understanding why DraQue is still a phenomenon thirty years later, why this ultra-basic and warm style is still successful are among the goals of this book.

At a time when all narratives were decompressed, when dialogs were overwritten to create atmosphere and present the outline of the game, Yûji Horii’s saga stands out with natural simplicity, as if what best defines Dragon Quest today is its infinite modesty.

1 In a special Game Center CX episode on “Yûji Horii, the man who created Dragon Quest.”

2 Kazuo Koike, cult manga author, also worked under the direction of Takao Saitô on the Golgo 13 series. He then wrote the screenplays for the famous manga Lone Wolf & Cub and contributed to its cinema adaptation in the 1970s, collaborating with artist Gôseki Kojima. He later worked with Ryôichi Ikegami on the creation of Crying Freeman. Kazuo Koike, born in 1936, still teaches today. Famous previous students include Rumiko Takahashi (Ranma 1/2, Urusei Yatsura, Inuyasha), Tetsuo Hara (Hokuto no Ken) and game designer Akira Sakuma, manager of the Momotarô Dentetsu game series. Along with Yûji Horii, he has held joint keynotes to promote his courses.

3 This distinction came from a 1994 issue of Famitsû, Japan’s leading video game magazine, published weekly.

4 Also mentioned by Son Gokû and his friends in Dragon Ball, another manga that opted for a western-style “Dragon” title.

5 1989 interview, discovered by the “Game Staff List Association Japan,” taking place shortly before the release of Dragon Quest IV, when Shigeru Miyamoto was working on Zelda: A Link to the Past.

6 Dragon Quest Museum was held in 2016 in Shibuya Hikarie, Tokyo, before being moved to Osaka.

7 However, in the screenshots sent to the press, the publisher and developer play around a little with the names of the heroes. Instead of the player’s name, it was often marked “Enix,” “Arus” or, more recently, “Eito” (Eight) and “Naïn” (Nine).

8 Interview taken from the documentary Dragon Quest 30th Soshite Aratana Densetsu he, 2016.

9Dragon Warrior arrived in August 1989 on NES in the USA. The saga remained localized until the fourth episode in October 1992, before experiencing a long hiatus, which came to an end on January 25, 1999 with the release of Dragon Warrior Monsters. It should be noted that these western versions respect the tradition of always proposing ugly covers, with absolutely nothing in common with the original design and style of Akira Toriyama.

10Dai no Daibôken, also known as Dragon Quest: The Great Adventure of Dai, is a manga by Riku Sanjô and Kôji Inada, supervised by Yûji Horii. The TV series was first broadcast in the West in Spain. In its European version, to avoid any similarity with the English word “die,” the hero was renamed “Fly,” which resulted in a noteworthy inconsistency: the hero is found by his adoptive father in a pram simply marked with the letter “D.” D for Dai, not Fly.

11 Again, this first approach by Dragon Quest may seem somewhat absurd, but in 1999, releasing something similar to a Pokémon clone seemed quite logical. The publisher Eidos Interactive was in charge of this first incursion into Europe.

CHAPTER I — YÛJI HORII,

THE MANGA HERO

“Our craft, Mrs. Weldon, is one of those in which it is necessary to begin very young. He who has not been a cabin-boy will never arrive at being a perfect seaman, at least in the merchant marine. Everything must be learned, and, consequently, everything must be at the same time instinctive and rational with the sailor—the resolution to grasp, as well as the skill to execute.”

Jules Verne, Dick Sand, A Captain at Fifteen.

WE RECOGNIZE stars from the aura that surrounds them. That is exactly what you feel in the presence of Yûji Horii. “The boss.” And yet, he also gives off a sense of simplicity. The first time I interviewed him was in Japan, in truly exceptional circumstances. The pretext was the release of a Dragon Quest Monsters. No one was fooled: we were there to meet the star, not to discuss an nth spin-off episode, although we would obviously have to talk a little about it, for the sake of politeness. Because “that’s why we’re here.” His aura is also apparent in the guard of honor formed by his team and all the various members of the organization staff. Horii hurried in with minimal politeness, sat in the center of the table facing the journalists, smiling a little but not too much, dressed in a relatively simple jacket and a checked shirt. There is no false modesty in his attitude; Yûji Horii knows exactly what he is worth. He knows exactly what his publisher owes him. He also wants to show that he is an “old-school” kind of guy. And he loves to talk about his work.

It is easy to imagine him, slightly balding, chain-smoking in front of his TV, thinking about his next move in a typically Nippon wargame1, a vision influenced by the fact that, for years, in every photo published, he was smoking. Or behind his desk, leaning on a motorbike, answering journalists, bent over his game documents. He was something of a Japanese Easy Rider, but nicer and more polite. For many years, he defined himself as a “free writer,” a freelance author, and his attitude probably stems from that. His glasses, however, remain his most important prop. Rectangular with smoked glass lenses, they complete the character. You imagine him behind them, scanning the people before him, but even so, they are far less intimidating than the black sunglasses he also tended to wear. Lots of the Japanese artists that I have been lucky enough to meet over the years have them: many of them suffer from extreme shyness. Sometimes, they simply refuse all photographs, even at public interviews.

But let’s get back to the Yûji Horii interview. One of the many western press attachés turns to me: “You’re lucky, you can ask him any question you like, questions we dream of asking.” He is a little optimistic: in a room with three journalists, there are five POs2 to look after the big boss. We certainly cannot ask him just anything; we are mindful of every word. This was 2006 and Dragon Quest had neither the fame nor the success that it enjoys in the West today. The balance of power between the press and the saga was a little different: the series needed journalists to boost its notoriety.

Yûji Horii always seemed more relaxed in later interviews. In Japan, there is a kind of protocol to be followed, so it always seemed as if the discussion could have been livelier if the meeting had been held elsewhere. That day, I asked him how he felt about Pokémon being broadly based on one of his games3. He replied that he was rather proud, before explaining that he saw the games as being quite different. When he left the room, trailing his escort, a sensation of emptiness lingered on behind him. “So that is the great guru of Dragon Quest”, I thought to myself.

That was when I understood one thing about Yûji Horii: he is actually a manga hero. Since he was born until the creation of Dragon Quest, he has literally followed the same route as a typical protagonist in one of his video games or a manga hero. To explain this metaphor, and by way of introduction to Dragon Quest, I will start by describing the fascinating life of this shônen hero.

YÛJI HORII ORIGINS, “THE RESTLESS OF THE JAR”

Yûji Horii often reminds us that he comes from Hyôgo, Kansai. He has talked of the unique attitude that fuels him. In Japan, he is known as Ichibiri Seishin4, which translates literally as “the restless of the jar,” an expression for someone who is a little crazy, burlesque, with a certain tendency to fool around.

Yûji Horii was destined for originality. He was born on 6 January 1954 in the city of Sumoto. “Sumoto-shi” is on the natural island of Awaji, in Hyôgo Prefecture. The humid subtropical climate means cool winters and extremely hot summers, as is often the case in the Kansai region. If your own adventure takes you there, know that the place is famous for its onions and its oranges, known as “naruto,” named after the strait, home of the well-known Naruto whirlpools, a natural feature caused by the opposing tides of Shikoku and Awaji Islands. Even with its view of the sea, this most beautiful haven reminds us that disaster is never far away, particularly in Japan. As well as the frequent typhoons, there are also earthquakes. The epicenter of the great Hanshin5 earthquake that destroyed much of Kobe, was right here, on Awaji Island. Saying that nature and the melancholy of a devastated planet are fundamental concerns for a large number of Japanese creators is something of an understatement. For Yûji Horii, this concern is not only present in his work but also, years later, in a more material form, with his contribution to the “hometown tax donation6.”

In spite of its natural hazards, the place is heavenly. As a boy among pine trees and daffodils by the sea, Horii developed a taste for dreaming and escapism. The fact that so many of his heroes begin their adventures on an island that they end up leaving is not coincidental. In fact, it is a real archetype. In Dragon Quest VII, he literally puts the player into the role of a fisherman’s son, fascinated by epic tales, who later discovers that the world is far larger than it first appears. For example, in the manga he supervised, Dragon Quest: Dai no Daibôken, Dai lives alone on Dermline Island, inhabited by animals and monsters that live in peace until an old demon wakes up and destroys the reigning harmony. Horii’s childhood memories were to become ingredients for his creations.

Horii also loved to play. Since elementary school, he has played smartball (a kind of simple version of pachinko), before discovering mah-jong, which he loves. He often alters the rules of card games to create a new form of fun. From a modest family—his father worked in glazing—, the young Yûji had dreams of success, imagining himself as a lawyer. However, this was not to last.

When he started middle school, he discovered an insatiable hunger for manga. Until then, his choices had been typical of a boy his age, joining a few intra-school clubs, but nothing in particular. Such clubs are very important to the social functioning of a school, because as well as making friends, it is often in such places that tastes are defined and passions served. He tried swimming, saxophone and learned the tea ceremony, before devoting all his time to the manga club. By the time he reached high school, Yûji was decided: he was going to be a mangaka.

Ultimately, Yûji Horii’s dream has always been to tell stories, and he was lucky to realize this very early on in his life. Having decided to draw manga, he spent his nights working on the project, skimping on sleep, and getting punished on a regular basis for his repeated lateness. Although he lived just ten minutes from school by bike, which is a true luxury in Japan, he arrived late almost two hundred times during his second year of high school7. His enthusiasm was relentless.

On his brother’s advice, he used the summer vacation of his third and final year of high school to try and realize his dream: he applied to be Gô Nagai’s assistant. At the time, the future creator of Mazinger Z, Devilman, Cutey Honey and Grendizer was one of the most popular manga artists in Japan, along with Shôtarô Ishinomori and Osamu Tezuka. Animation was a huge success on Japanese TV and the young man began to dream of adding his name to the prestigious list of Gô Nagai’s assistants, since so many of them later became famous. Yûji Horii finally met the master... but unfortunately, they did not get along and he was rejected. The early demise of his career as a mangaka is perceptible between the lines of the games that Horii later designed. Dragon Quest is not just the first classic Japanese RPG, it is also the archetype of a shônen tale, like Dragon. Ball. It is not just intended for young boys; it is a genre that promotes positive values such as abnegation, friendship, courage, will power, and in which old enemies can become allies. Throughout his work, Horii has never stopped repeating “it is all about how you tell the story.”

“OK, NOW WHAT DO I DO?”

That was the question facing Horii shortly after this rejection, when he only had a few months left to decide what he was going to do for a living. He said to himself: “In the meantime, I’ll go to college,” and set his sights on Waseda.

After high school, Japanese students have to take college entrance exams. This is a formidable ordeal, a drastic selection process that leaves behind so many young people. In other words, you have to work specifically for the institution to which you are applying. The better the college’s reputation, the tougher the competition. It is actually the most difficult period in the whole educational process, and students often make themselves ill in their attempts to succeed.

His repeated absences and Gô Nagai’s recent rejection could have put Yûji Horii off, condemning him to select a lesser establishment, but the boy lived his life in “difficult” mode. He opted for Waseda, one of the country’s most prestigious universities. To give an idea of the level of competition, more than one hundred thousand people take the entrance exam for just five thousand places. And even once you get in, nothing is certain, because you still have to pay the enrollment fees for the private college, which can be up to a million yen8; these fees are redistributed as grants to those most in need. Yûji Horii succeeded in 1972! He passed the exam and naturally chose literature. Times were changing for this young man: he left the paradise of Awaji Island for Waseda, in the northern area of Shinjuku, in Tokyo.