Comparing Final Fantasy 2's Story to Later Games In Series: It Rocks In A Different Way
All the FF's I've played (IV, VI, VII, VIII) all have central protagonists with weak spirits who become heros. Cecil, the Dark Knight, transforms himself into a Paladin. Terra and Cloud, both victimized war experiments, eventually become righteous warriors. Squall, who seemed to be suffering from Asperger's at the start of his game, with his indifference to other people's feelings and intense focus on militaristic duty, becomes the sort of guy who will chase after his seemingly doomed girlfriend when the world below needs him to destroy evil sorceresses. I mean, there are other themes in all the games, too - corrupt militaries, regents, corporations, etc., The World in Peril Syndrome, the theory that no JRPG will have antagonists at the beginning unless they only lead to a supremely powerful, nihilistic super-beings who want to enslave or destroy everything, the belief that hairstyles and weaponry are windows into personalities - but Final Fantasy shares those themes with many other games. Final Fantasy is the series I would think of if a someone asked me, "Well, what games tell stories about weak-willed people who overcome their problems to save the world?"
IV is the only one where the main character honestly confronts his weakness, his sins, and atones for them. Cecil is motivated by vengeance before he becomes the Paladin of Light; King Baron had wronged him, personally, by demoting him. The destruction of the Village of Mist enrages him, but his rage is narcissistic. How dare he command me to commit such a crime! I was supposed to die in the explosion! I am going to get even with that jerk!
A little over a 3rd of the story unfolds with Cecil as a Dark Knight; he observes the victims of Baron's single-minded, violent pursuit of the elemental Crystals and begins to realize his culpability in the devastation. He had suppressed his conscience for years to follow orders, and he had gained great power and admiration, but he had no right to expect pity; he had led heinous, immoral wars as an airship captain, after all. Unlike later Final Fantasies - especially those on the Playstation 1, which were so overwhelmed by adolescent emotions and a pervasive, looming apocalypses they never bothered to slow down long enough to confront the ramifications of their protagonist's actions - Cecil must come to terms with his past before he can accept responsibility for the world.
Of course, that entails piloting whales into the second moon of his homeworld, after traveling to the underground land of the dwarves, in pursuit of the man he will discover is his brother, whose mind is controlled by Zemus, this Lunariarn (yeah, that's what the race is called) dude with this Giant of Babel (oooh, biblical!) and an unhealthy love of cheap real estate on planets whose populations have been eradicated, preferably by him. The second half of IV's plot is so freakishly complicated because it doesn't have to spend any time handling it's main character's inner conflict, because he had accepted responsibility, and was given atonement, for the sins of his life. Cecil loses his personality and becomes a two dimensional (in both senses) embodiment of Good. Which, frankly, I find refreshing after years of "emo kid" protagonists in the series.
Imagine Final Fantasy VII's plot changed so that Cloud accepts the truth about the fateful night he and Seperoth met Jenova, during the first conversation he has with the rest of AVALANCHE. Much time would need to be filled, and had it followed IV's formula, it would have just packed more and more outrageously awesome stuff in it. Seperoth could merely have been a puppet controlled by Jenova, who was controlled by a hive-minded race who lived near the center of the earth, but that race could be reduced to a singularity if the champions of Good could collect five buckets of water from the holy Gibraltar Stone, which was guarded by a malevolent rodent with laser beams in it's eyes that your party eventually uses to burrow into the center of the Earth. The last time I replayed FFVII, I was struck by how much time is given to the mystery of that night. Most detective stories have the same problem that FFVII does - it's exciting to discover the truth. But, if the truth doesn't lead anywhere or teach us anything, the whole adventure was a bit of a waste of time, and I would rather be assaulted with weirdness if I'm going to be wasting my time.
I forgive VII. FFVII was trying all sorts of new things, and the hollowness of the central mystery wasn't revealed before I'd grown attached enough to it's characters and setting that it didn't matter all that much, although I did grow to hate Cloud. Cloud never really stops being duplicitous, and he doesn't mature. Cecil does.
I honestly don't even know where to start with Squall. I haven't played VIII in years and years, but the overall impression I remember of the experience is this burning resentment at the mechanics of the game; also, I remember how much I hated it's jackass hero and his stupid girlfriend. I don't remember what motivation the sorceresses had, since they went to a lot of work to summon all those damn monsters. I forget how sincere Squall was, diving into space to save Riona, or other moments where Squall overcame his weaknesses, but I'm sure he overcame them with his feathered hair expressing his innermost feelings, which were roughly "I can't be bothered to express empathy, because I have a sword that's also a goddamn kickass gun."
VI is the hardest to fit into this little box, which if you've forgotten is "Final Fantasy is always about weak people becoming strong by confronting their demons" because it's got that huge freaking cast, and everyone's got serious problems, and you don't even need to have all of them accepting their faults and moving on because you can confront the final dungeon whenever you feel like, after the apocalypse. It could use it's own essay.