#fuga 2

So the main overarching theme of the three fugas is quite obvious: the bonds we share are what give us the strength to push through the hardest times in our life. Typical shonen stuff, it's good shit, good soup, and I think Fuga's done it even better. It's poetic how the pilots of this god-slaying tank are the people who, arguably, are the most helpless in war - children. The whole group is made up of pretty much all types, even a former enemy like Britz, yet they are forced to work together due to these harsh times. This theme of bonds giving strength is also sort of reflected in Flam Kish and her will to see the tank and the children burn because of her father's death. This is reflected even harder in the game's endings. It's not particularly hard for the children to win in most battles - the Taranis is the fucking Taranis after all, it's the nuclear bomb that can literally "Reset" (erase) people and things from existence. But the easiest way to utilize that is for one child to sacrifice their life. This is where it gets good; Fuga takes the trope of a heroic sacrifice and says "fuck that." Fuga asks you to hope, to dare to dream of a better solution, where everybody can survive, and then fight like hell to achieve it. You may save the world, but an ending where you sacrificed a child is never a good ending. It asks you not just to fight, but to build the bonds between the children as well, otherwise you cannot bring out their full strength, as well as the strength of the Taranis, or in Fuga 2's case, you can't stop Vanilla from betraying the crew. Time and time again, it is the diamond-strong LOVE of these children that awakens some dormant power within the Taranis, a light in the darkness, that guides them to victory.

One motif I found interesting yet I think wasn't explored quite enough is the children's innocence. These are literal children, oldest being 13, that are forced to fight in war, forced to grow up in order to survive. General Merlot pointed this out in almost every scene where the children are the topic yet aren't in the room, saying that their top priority should be to protect the children. Mei's kidnapping at the hands of Maestro touches on this too, it was absolutely harrowing seeing that scene where they find her hooked up to the machine, just utterly heinous shit. It's also very present in the soundtrack of the game, with how many easy-going childish melodies there are in the songs, and it's even felt in more dramatic themes like Flower On The Trails or Ensemble. I appreciate this fact was addressed, but I don't think it was taken nearly as far as it should've been, the children are mostly treated as adults (although that could also be another thing that feeds right back into that very motif - the children are treated that way because they were forced to grow up, that's the tragedy.)

Another theme that is present in the series yet is strongest in Fuga 3 is one from Solatorobo - the idea that there is no "perfection", no "correct" way to live or be, worrying about such things is fruitless and only leads to anguish. This theme pops up when the Juno and humanity are involved, Maestro being its embodiment in Fuga 3 and is most obvious in the final scene with him where he reveals his face to the children, expecting shock, yet the children just shrug because "we all have our differences." In the end, it really was just Pierre who was worried about the humans, and look where it's got him! Not even his two colleagues, the last living humans were worried about them anymore.

This then leads me to my biggest question (ignoring the hidden cutscenes, dear lord) by the end of Fuga 3's true ending: why was Blutwurst the final boss of the true ending? We've just defeated Maestro, there was no doubt we were going to stomp the ever-living shit out of Blutwurst. Even in his freaky mechanical Akira-esque form, I knew he'd be a pushover, and he was. There's no real "flow" to that final chapter, it sort of falls flat. Thinking about it, I believe I came to a good conclusion as to why; Blutwurst is the antithesis to the story's themes and message. He is a man who was so worried about this false idea of "perfection" due to his inferiority complex that he sacrificed everything in order to get closer to it. It may have gained him a high-ranking position in the Berman military, as well as bucket-loads of power, but it was never enough, he never really had anybody's respect. He was utterly alone by the end, at which point that false ideal melts away to reveal what's truly festered in his heart, that being utter hatred. Hate and rejection of one's self or another eats you from the inside out until you're not even human. He was at the very end to serve as contrast to the children - he may be big and scary, but compared to the children's literal god-awakening and god-slaying bonds, he is nothing. This did however make me ask - why wasn't he in Maestro's place then? Or rather, why couldn't Maestro have been as unhinged as Blutwurst was? Did Maestro's role necessitate a certain level-headedness? Maybe. One could also say it had to be Blutwurst because Blutwurst represents the true face of a nazi, or at least a type of nazi, a self-loathing pile of misery that masks itself in ideals.

Whatever the case, Little Tail Bronx stays winning, like always.

[This article is a companion piece for Fuga 2: A Melody of Rage]

I feel reticent in writing down my thoughts on Fuga 3 on account that I have very few notes about it: this was an almost complete turnaround from the mistakes of the second game and an appropriate conclusion to the themes that began with the first game. The biggest exercise in course-correcting I have seen in a long while!

I mean it when I say this feels designed to address all my very specific criticisms about Fuga 2 down to the wire: within the first couple of chapters, Malt gets whisked away for plot reasons, leaving the rest of the cast to rise to the occasion and restoring them as main characters - including and especially Mei. The Soul Cannon feature makes sense, Responsibility is back on the menu and, most crucially, the furry nazies are The Bad Guys again! This does not undo the damage caused by its predecessor but it’s a massive step into a more salubrious direction. The game only gets better from that moment onward.

What we have here is a reprisal of the same narrative and world-building bits that defined the framework of the entire Little Tail Bronx series, up and to the point it’s basically a remake of Solatorobo. Its status as a loosely connected prequel was overtaken by a much more delineated role within the canon, as if to bridge the gap between the older fans (me) and the newer fans (also me).

The big “Come Together” moment, right at the end, feels earned as the true final boss isn’t the (advertised) world-ending threat but a relic of the dehumanizing cruelty and blind hatred of the war machine fueled by fascist oppression, both metaphorical and literal. It’s funny because, in many ways, it’s a redo on the final boss from Fuga 2 except, this time around, they adopted the correct framing to make the intended message resonate. You know, as opposed to… doing the exact opposite.

There are elements that do not work such as the entire point of Malt’s estranged brother, who swoops into the scene with his own “Kemono Friends” to steal his backstory from Naruto’s Itachi Mishima and wind up feeling entirely redundant. Quite frankly, every aspect of the plot is extremely predictable (including the “surprise challenger”) but that’s besides the point. Fuga, Solatorobo and Little Tail Bronx in general, are games about overcoming adversity and embracing togetherness. Which can only be achieved by learning from our past, our wars, our means of self-destruction, and do better for the future, as communities and as people. It’s a message so simple yet so difficult to convey without accidentally falling into the Can’t We All Get Along? forgiveness rhetoric.

Setting aside that whole bungle, the core idea of presenting anthropomorphic animals as successors to the burdensome legacy of the Old Humanity, dealing with the damage its warring technology and ideologies continue to do to their society, makes the message so much more powerful. It’s up to the New World (furries) to undo the horrors of the Old World in order to grasp a better Tomorrow, and it all starts by eradicating fascism from the face of Earth.

So, yes, you could say that Fuga 3 is almost the same experience as Fuga 2 but more polished. How’s that for a “review”?

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As an addendum, I wish to draw a special spotlight on Les Aventures de Sucre, a comic book series that exists within the Fuga universe. Aside from the adorable art inspired by Hergè’s Tintin, it worked as a narrative parallel to the overarching story.

The “author” was introduced as an actual character in the second game and became a much more central figure in this final instalment just as the comic’s run reached its conclusion.

What I find notable is how the quality of the comic improved over the course of the trilogy, going from de-saturated, worn out pages to higher quality ones in full colour, directly emulating the growth such a series would have had in real life. There is beauty and melancholy to this approach.

It’s a reflection of the developer team’s journey in making the games they’ve always wanted to make, pulling them out from the clutches of oblivion. Sucre is, ironically, a piece of “fake” art that celebrates the reality of the Fuga trilogy’s existence.

Who knows what the future will bring us? Hopefully, it’s more furry games.

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Happy 2nd Anniversary to Fuga: Melodies of Steel 2!

For those who don't know, this is one of my favorite RPGs of all time. Also Jihl is my son boy, I care about him immensely.