Xenosaga Episode I is an enigma of a game—it is a product of its era while at the same time being incredibly ambitious, even by modern standards.
Released in early 2002 in Japan and just a year later in North America, it is a spiritual successor to the cult classic Xenogears and a spiritual predecessor to the Xenoblade Chronicles series. Initially planned to be an ambitious six-game series, underwhelming sales for Xenosaga Episode II caused the series to be cut short to three games. None of the Xenosaga games have ever been rereleased, leaving them only available on PlayStation 2. Despite the first game selling over one million copies, Xenosaga as a series dwindled into obscurity, never reaching widespread commercial success.
Over 20 years later, Xenosaga Episode I merits reexamining. Despite some dated flaws and rust—primarily concerning gameplay, pacing, and structure—the game boasts unparalleled aspirations, impressive scope, and a profound narrative that is truly worthy of attention.
Opening in the year 20XX, the game begins with an archaeologist and his crew unearthing a legendary artifact known as the “Zohar.” The plot then fast-forwards 4,000 years, with humanity now existing as a spacefaring species. In the lengthy opening cutscene, you meet Shion Uzuki, a human scientist, and KOS-MOS, her android creation, loading into a virtual simulation. Their initial conversation delves into Shion’s perceptions of KOS-MOS potentially having emotional capabilities and the android’s role in an imminent, devastating conflict. Advanced, unfamiliar terms are spoken freely with little to no explanation; KOS-MOS is a prototype “anti-Gnosis” battle android, for example.
The grandiosity of the narrative’s scope, the sheer amount of information thrown at you, and the abrupt transition into such a distant future feel very overwhelming. However, this works to the game’s benefit immensely, as it immediately immerses you into the setting organically and naturally.
With respect to the setting, I am particularly impressed by how well the game retains its intrigue from beginning to end. Xenosaga Episode I has two modes: Cinematic Events, where much of the story is revealed, and Quest Mode where the player explores environments and battles enemies, primarily Gnosis. Irrespective of whether I was playing or watching cutscenes, I felt drawn in over and over.
Visually, the cinematics are breathtakingly gorgeous and brilliantly directed; for the most part, the graphics hold up even two decades later. In particular, the sheer attention to detail of spaceships and the Gnosis astounds me greatly. Whether it’s a battle sequence in space against thousands of Gnosis or a heartfelt character scene in the depths of a ship’s bay, every scene’s excellent voice acting, choreography, and score blew me away.
On the topic of music, Xenosaga Episode I’s score is extraordinary, underpinning the entire experience and elevating it to new heights. With the talents of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, Yasunori Mitsuda’s compositional skills are on full display. The music varies: haunting, soul-shaking choral hymns, mysterious and melancholic piano and oboe compositions, and futuristic synthesizer flourishes are present throughout, greatly enhancing every scene or, rarely, a special environment.
Music is noticeably less prevalent in Quest Mode; however, the atmosphere is just as top-notch. The cutscenes’ awe, bombast, and emotional weight give way to a more muted, apprehensive, and quiet gameplay experience when you explore. All areas are in full 3D and are almost as graphically well-constructed as the cutscenes, which helps maintain immersion. The actual level design is fantastic, and every location has tons of hidden tools, weapons, and secrets. I always felt extremely rewarded for exploring every area’s nooks and crannies.
Most areas in the game lack background music, which is a bold decision. While some areas could benefit from having songs, the silence in many areas, particularly on spaceships, creates an oppressive, menacing atmosphere. The echoing of your footsteps on the metal floor and the distant hum of the ship’s engines give weight to the vacuum of space around you and the isolation of space.
The only real, overarching issue I have with the score and the resultant atmosphere is that only a single battle theme is included, which plays in every enemy encounter except for the final boss. The battle theme, luckily, is a fine composition by itself, but there are too many great, exciting bosses not to have a separate boss theme.
Quest Mode’s battle and leveling systems are somewhat of a conundrum. In the game’s beginning simulation, the tutorial poorly explains the game’s systems. Fundamentally, there are three-point systems: Techs, Ethers, and Skills. Points for each are dropped in varying quantities by the game’s three classes of enemies: Biological (humans or animals), Mechanical (robots or other mechs), and Gnosis.
Tech Points allow you to upgrade your Tech Attacks, which are extra powerful finishing moves that you can use after different combinations of normal attacks; you can also use these to upgrade character stats directly. Ether Points go towards Ether, essentially this game’s version of magic spells. Notably, you can transfer most Ether to other characters for half the upgrade’s cost. You use Skill Points to extract Skills from equipment, which become latent, applicable abilities for each character.
While this leveling system grants generous customization of characters’ abilities and gives way to wide flexibility in builds, it is also unnecessarily complicated and suffers from a relentless overabundance of menus, some of which are needlessly obtuse. In my playthrough, I spent 15 to 20 percent of my gameplay time parsing menus, allocating points, and switching equipment. Several of these menus are strangely devoid of descriptions; for example, Ether abilities have no descriptions on the leveling menu, leaving players in the dark about their function until they obtain them. The developers should have used multiple equipment slots or a different skill-inheritance method instead of Skill Points.
Despite the underlying leveling system’s complexity, investment and attention to managing your characters’ stats pays off amazingly, and fortunately, the actual battle system is executed splendidly. Actions in battle require AP—leftover AP carries over from turn to turn. You receive four AP per turn for a maximum of six AP. Most actions require two AP, including Normal Attacks; you can chain two into powerful Tech Attacks, which are crucial to your success. While these usually require your full AP bar, you can upgrade Techs to use them on your second turn.
Additionally, in every battle, there is an omnipresent Event Slot, which rotates between one of four effects: no effect, critical hit rate up, Boost Gauge rate up, and Point Bonus. The latter two elements, Boost and the Point Bonus, help raise combat to another strategic level. Essentially, with every Normal Attack, a character’s Boost Gauge will increase, and once filled, they can Boost, which allows them to take the next turn immediately, even interrupting enemy turns. Point Bonus increases the Ether, Skill, and Tech points earned after the battle by 2x, 4x, or 10x.
The Boost mechanic introduces an entirely different dimension to combat. Many boss battles come down to proper and timely use of Boost with other mechanics. Point Bonus prevents normal enemy encounters from becoming routine slogs; for example, I often line up an entire row of enemies to eliminate in one turn, and, with some luck, I get at least double the rewards just from paying attention. In this way, Xenosaga Episode I requires and rewards your full attention and engagement with its systems. In addition to the mechanics, battle graphics and special attacks are exceptionally animated and bring a superb visual flair to every battle.
The last primary gameplay element worthy of mention is the Anti-Gnosis Weapon Systems (AGWS), which are essentially giant mechs meant to combat Gnosis. These are extraordinarily powerful and incredibly designed. Unfortunately, they are awfully expensive to upgrade and maintain in a game already stingy with money. Had I not engaged with a poker mini game, it is unlikely their use would have been viable later into the game, which is disappointing, considering their awesomeness.
When considering both modes as parts of a whole game, Xenosaga Episode I suffers significantly from how strongly its gameplay and cutscenes feel divorced: game mode and cutscene mode are individually engaging, but this split makes the game’s pacing choppy and slow. It is ridiculously demanding of your time; I had some boss battles take over 15 minutes, and some cutscene sequences play for far longer, which is rough on the pacing.
That said, every time I entered a cutscene, the story kept me relentlessly hooked despite the game’s pacing issues. From the very outset, the plot is forthright about its incorporation of Gnostic mysticism into the world’s setting and lore. The Zohar, central to the game’s plot and responsible for humans developing into a spacefaring species, is shaped like a cross. It is known to have a cosmic connection to the Upper Domain, which is from where the alien-like Gnosis creatures originate. When the Gnosis creatures attack humans, they are turned into pillars of salt, much like Lot’s wife in the Bible.
Xenosaga Episode I borrows concepts from Western philosophy effectively and profoundly. Its subtitle is “Der Wille zur Macht,” or “The Will to Power,” which is a concept in the philosophical notes of German philosopher Friedrich Nietzche and directly evokes the political conflicts in the story. The calendar system in the game, “Transcend Christ,” also reflects Nietzche’s philosophy of eternal recurrence. The Swiss philosopher Carl Jung’s idea of collective unconsciousness is an analog for the function of the interstellar internet system in the game, known as the Unus Mundus Network (UNM). It is rooted in humanity’s cosmically based collective unconsciousness and allows interstellar communication and travel.
The references to these concepts, of which there are many, are not vacuous or used cheaply—they are sincerely woven into the lore and plot meaningfully and serve to bolster the game’s central, thought-provoking themes of escaping the eternal recurrence of suffering. This is evident in the terror of the otherworldly Gnosis on humans and the existential plight of the Realians—synthetic humans present throughout the storyline, one of whom is a main character.
Any respectable JRPG has great characters, and Xenosaga Episode I delivers here with its main cast. All the characters, across the board, are striking in their designs—KOS-MOS being a particular standout. The voice actors perform excellently, especially for an early-2000s RPG. Additionally, each character has plot threads that are fascinating individually when the party splits up but also interlace perfectly into the grander narrative when they come back together.
I walked away in awe from Xenosaga Episode I when the credits finally rolled after the cliffhanger ending. Its scope is magnificent, its themes are profound, and the battles I fought along the way left me on the edge of my seat. Even if much of the sitting in-between involved lengthy menu navigation and complex stat allocations, I have never felt my patience for a game more rewarded.
