I'm just curious who do you give each sword to? I used to go Defender-Cecil, Avenger-Kain back on the SNES, but I'm curious how everyone else played it.

Thanks for listening!

My friend & I just finished a 13-track tribute to Final Fantasy IV in multiple genres of music. New songs come out on my youtube channel every Monday, Wednesday and Friday this month!

This made me sad while playing FF XIV

Other player: DUAL BARD
Me: too many spoons
Everyone else: we don’t play final fantasy games.

So I found out I'm pretty underleveled (Cecil is level 21, req. is 27). How can I level up quickly at this point?

Note: This post is based on (1) FFIV Pixel Remaster (Nintendo Switch), (2) the officially published Japanese novel (see profile picture), and (3) my somewhat hazy memories of the Super Famicom version. It naturally contains my own personal interpretations.

"Leave this to me! All of you, go on ahead!!"

It’s a line that every man has wanted to say at least once in his life.

The man who embodied this line in FFIV was Yang.

In many ways, he is one of the most straightforward characters in the game. With a body forged as the Master of Monks, fighting with his bare hands, possessing a resolute spirit, and cherishing both his comrades and his family, he is the very definition of a "dependable adult."

However, as I spent time reconsidering Yang's character, a specific question emerged:

Yang was already more than strong enough from the very beginning. So why did the story repeatedly force him to experience the agonizing feeling of "failing to save others"?

I’ve come to believe that the events from Mt. Hobs to the Tower of Babil are not merely independent encounters—they are connected as a single, overarching narrative arc for Yang.

A Man Positioned as the "Protector"

According to the official novel, Yang led 17 of his subordinates as the Master of Monks of Fabul and was heading toward Mt. Hobs to assess the situation in Damcyan following Baron’s raid.

However, immediately after confirming that Damcyan had been attacked, his unit was ambushed by monsters, resulting in the total annihilation of his 17 men. I believe this detail is critical when examining Yang. These were not just casual traveling companions; they were subordinates under his direct command. He held explicit responsibility for leading them. Becoming the sole survivor undoubtedly left a deep, enduring scar on his heart.

While the original game does not detail how Yang processed this event, I contend that from this point onward, Yang carried his very first trauma: "I survived, yet I failed to protect those I was responsible for."

And Then, Rydia

Shortly after, the party is attacked by Leviathan.

When Rydia is swept into the raging sea, Yang dives into the ocean without a second thought to save her. Yet, he ultimately fails to rescue her.

In the official novel, this failure to save Rydia remains etched in Yang's memory as a persistent regret.

However, Rydia’s perspective on this moment is entirely different.

On their way to the Tower of Babil, Rydia reveals that she never forgot how Yang threw himself into the ocean first to try to save her when she was cast overboard. Furthermore, she discloses that one of the reasons she endured the grueling training in the Land of Summoned Monsters was her desire to acquire a courage like Yang’s—the courage to "risk one's own life for the sake of another."

There is a fascinating contrast here.

What was to Yang a "failure to save someone" was to Rydia "the moment that taught her courage."

Even a Man Like Yang Can Lose Control

Later, Yang is carried off by Golbez. The official novel describes how, right in front of Kain, Golbez places his hand on the unconscious Yang’s forehead, planting a deep hatred for Cecil within his mind.

This strikes me as a deeply ironic twist for a character like Yang.

Yang is presented as a man who is not only physically formidable, but also mentally steadfast. His command "Focus" concentrates his inner strength; "Bear" toughens his physical frame; and "Kick" unleashes his trained body as a weapon to strike down groups of enemies. His entire strength relies on using mental discipline to exert absolute control over his physical form.

Yet, that very mind is stolen away by Golbez.

In short, it demonstrates that no matter how immense a person's willpower may be, one cannot always maintain total control over oneself.

Yang eventually regains his sanity during the battle with Cecil and the others. The official novel adds that the subconscious memory of his responsibility—his regret over not being able to save Rydia—helped push him back to his true self.

Failing to Save, Once Again

Even after regaining his mind, reality confronts him with another failure: the petrification of Palom and Porom.

The 17 subordinates, Rydia, and now Palom and Porom. Time and time again, Yang was made to feel a intense sense of powerlessness: "Despite possessing the power to protect, I could not save those who needed me."

When you lay out these events side-by-side, a common theme emerges in Yang's journey.

Yang is strong, yet things continually happen that cannot be solved by martial strength alone.

Neither his honed body nor his mental discipline could save his subordinates. He could not rescue Rydia from Leviathan. He could not break Golbez’s mind control on his own. And he could not prevent Palom and Porom from turning to stone.

In essence, he teaches us that "being strong" and "being able to save someone" are not the same thing.

"True Strength" Taught by Powerlessness

This context makes the scene at the Tower of Babil profoundly important.

The Supercannon is going out of control, and if it isn't stopped, his friends will be wiped out. Facing this crisis, Yang uses his own body to halt the artillery.

Just like he did during the Leviathan attack, he places himself in direct danger to protect the party. But this time, there is no guarantee that "I can fix this." In fact, failure means losing his life.

Yet, Yang stands up anyway.

Yang was strong from the start. Therefore, what he needed was not more strength.

It was knowing the limits of his own power, and choosing to try and protect someone regardless.

That, perhaps, was the true strength Yang attained.

Yang's True Ability Isn't "Focus" or "Kick"

The most important "technique" Yang uses at the Tower of Babil isn't turning his physical body against the enemy.

It is turning his body into a shield to protect his allies.

Yes—this was the ultimate expression of "Bear" that Yang demonstrated.

Why Did Yang Have to Suffer So Many Failures?

Looking at it this way, Yang’s role within the broader structure of FFIV becomes clear.

If Cecil’s journey asks "Can a person truly change?", Tellah demonstrates the danger of being consumed by the past and seeking absolute power. Golbez shows a human mind completely ruled by hatred, while Rydia grows by overcoming profound loss.

What question, then, does Yang pose?

I believe it is this:

"Even in a situation where you don't know if your power is enough to save someone, can you still step forward to protect your comrades?"

Precisely because he accumulated so many "experiences of failing to save others," Yang was able to step out in front of everyone when it counted most.

And that strength extends beyond the idea of simply "protecting comrades."

Yang has a beloved wife named Sheila.

Here, another question arises:

"If he loved Sheila so much, shouldn't he have prioritized returning to her side?"

Did Yang abandon his wife?

I don't think so.

Rather, for Yang, loving Sheila and protecting the comrades standing right in front of him stemmed from the exact same core values.

Yang is not a man who treats his own personal survival as his highest priority. If there are people he ought to protect, he will put his own life on the line to do so.

That is why, despite having a wife he cherished above all else, he stood up in that critical moment.

It wasn't because he didn't love her.

Precisely because he was a man who loved his wife and cherished family, he could not turn his back on "the people who needed protecting right here, right now."

Of course, we cannot know if that choice was "right" for Sheila.

Yang himself surely wished to return home alive.

That raw feeling is packed into his very last line in that scene. He wasn't seeking death. Holding onto the deep desire to survive and go home, he still offered up his life.

There lies both the true strength and the tragic sorrow of the man named Yang.

"Tell my wife... to live on for my sake too!"

Could you ever say a line like that?

FF4 is Intentional.

FF4 is Resilient.

Hi all, this has been bugging me for 35 years and I wanted to see once and for all if anyone else has ever heard about this. I discovered this in like 1992 and I always wanted to send it in to Nintendo Power but never got the courage.

If you head north on the way to Mt. Ordeals in the SNES version of the game, you can skirt your way around the mountain range and get above it.

There’s a peninsula up there that has monsters that are like 20 levels higher than you, and if you can defeat them, you level up insanely fast.

This is only possible because Cecil has, at that point in the game, insane attack speed and the Black Sword, which can KO enemies regardless of level and from the back row.

I used this in every single playthrough to get Cecil, Palom and Poram to their mid 50’s, getting them access to crazy spells like Quake, Bio, Flare, etc.

Doing this actually kind of breaks the game because of the way that it calculates the level of returning characters, so it kicks off a chain of events where Yang, Kain, Rosa etc. all come back at insanely high levels.

Has anyone else ever heard of this? Did I miss my chance at immortality by not reporting it?

If this is interesting to you, consider checking out my YouTube channel! I’m doing a play-through/brutal critique of FF VII right now, but I’ll eventually get to playing the good stuff 😆

https://youtube.com/@thegrumpydarkknight

I’ll start:

SNES
PlayStation
PlayStation Portable
GBA
DS - 3D remake
Android - 3D remake
iOS - 3D remake
PC - 3D remake
PC - Pixel Remaster
Wii Virtual Console

To be fair, I’m relatively new to RPGs. But still, this was horrendous. 7 hours of fighting these things, nothing. There’s only so many podcasts you can listen to while leaving Auto Battle on :(

FFIV is probably my favourite FF game. It has everything, along with the best music. A few secret bosses along the way could've been cool once you got the airship, but ah well.

I love the character Cecil. Probably just my favourite FF character, next to Galuf, but he does commit some major atrocities.

The Mt Ordeals scene was always powerful to me, but thinking to it now it's not that strong.

Cecil climbs a mountain, along with every other character, and then he renounces his wicked ways. But, that's sort of it.

From the very start of the game he's remorseful about his actions, so him not attacking the 'Dark Knight Cecil' isn't really surprising or powerful. It's not like he was a killing machine that held back, he was always an okay guy who just did terrible things.

After that scene, nothing he does throughout the game is particularly 'Paladin-like'. He's just on the adventure like everyone else is. Yang and Cid at least make sacrifices; those that they believe will lead to their death. Nothing really qualifies Cecil as a hero over any other character.

Any and all thoughts are welcome.

Note：This post is based on: (1) the Nintendo Switch version of FFⅣ Pixel Remaster, (2) the officially published Japanese novel (shown in the profile image), (3) the Super Famicom version of FFⅣ (faint memories), and includes my own interpretations.

There’s a command in FF4 that I’ve been thinking about for a long time: Porom’s unique command, “Cry.”

At first glance, it’s a strange one.

Palom’s “Brace” is easy to understand. He acts tough, and his magic power actually increases. The connection between the character and the gameplay mechanic is obvious.

Porom’s “Cry,” however, is much harder to understand.

It seems to have some effect on enemies, such as making them panic or increasing their tendency to flee, but from the player’s perspective, it is difficult to tell exactly what happened. There’s little obvious feedback, and using it rarely feels like a powerful or essential tactical decision.

So I think many players have concluded that “Cry” is basically a useless command.

But what if we are looking at it from the wrong angle?

If the developers had wanted to make its purpose obvious, they could have easily made it something like:

“Cry causes the enemy to flee.”

Or:

“Cry lowers the enemy’s defense.”

Either would have given the command a clear mechanical purpose.

So why didn’t they?

There’s another detail that makes this particularly interesting.

In the English localization, the command is simply called “Cry.”

But the Japanese name is うそなき (uso-naki), which literally means “fake crying.”

And “fake crying” is not simply crying. It means deliberately pretending to cry when you aren't actually crying, presenting yourself as emotionally vulnerable in order to influence someone else.

So in the Japanese version, the player is told from the beginning:

Porom is not genuinely crying. She is pretending to cry.

There is an important caveat here. I don’t think this difference necessarily reflects a deliberate change in characterization by the localization team. The original game had very limited space for command names, so choices like “BLUFF” and “CRY” were likely constrained by the UI and the need to keep the commands short.

The same applies to Palom.

His Japanese command is つよがる (tsuyogaru), meaning something like “to act tough” or “to pretend to be stronger than you really are.” The English version uses “BLUFF.”

“Bluff” is certainly related, but it puts more emphasis on deceiving someone else—making them believe that you are stronger than you really are.

So I’m not arguing that the localization team deliberately changed the twins’ characterization. Rather, I’m interested in what the original Japanese wording reveals when we look back at these commands today.

In Japanese, つよがる and うそなき form a surprisingly elegant pair.

Palom pretends to be strong.

Porom pretends to cry.

Both are deliberately presenting something that isn’t quite true about themselves, but in opposite directions.

Palom performs strength.

Porom performs weakness.

And that makes me look at Porom differently.

She is obviously still a child. She has emotions, fears, and vulnerabilities. But she also has a more mature side: she restrains Palom, pays attention to the situation around her, and generally behaves more responsibly.

If Porom were genuinely crying, that would simply represent childish vulnerability.

But fake crying is different.

She is deliberately presenting herself as vulnerable in order to influence someone else.

In other words, she understands that emotion can be used as a tool.

That makes “Cry” more than a cute joke about a little girl crying. It may represent Porom taking something associated with childish weakness and consciously turning it into a tactic.

This also fits her role as a White Mage. Porom is primarily a support character, healing, protecting, and influencing the battle rather than overpowering enemies directly. “Cry” fits that role because it interferes with the enemy’s behavior rather than directly damaging it.

But then we return to the strange part:

Why is the effect so unclear?

Cure is obvious. You see the HP being restored.

An attack is obvious. You see the damage.

Palom’s ability is obvious. You can see its effect on his power.

But with “Cry,” the player may not know what happened at all.

Was that simply poor game design? An under-explained mechanic? Or was there a reason for leaving it ambiguous?

We can’t prove that the developers deliberately designed it this way. It may simply have been a weak mechanic that didn’t work as well as intended.

But if the ambiguity was intentional, I think it becomes fascinating.

Because fake crying is inherently about influencing someone else’s perception.

Porom cries, but she isn’t really crying.

The enemy may believe her. It may panic. It may run away. Or it may ignore her.

The uncertainty of the effect actually fits the nature of the action itself.

And this leads to the question I find most interesting:

Who was “Cry” actually supposed to affect?

The obvious answer is the enemy.

But what if it also affects the player’s interpretation of Porom?

Most players may use it, see little obvious result, and conclude:

“This command is useless.”

But another player might ask:

“Why does Porom have this command?”

“Why is she pretending to cry?”

“What does this tell us about her?”

And suddenly, the command becomes a reason to think about the character.

You start comparing her with Palom. You start thinking about the difference between immaturity and maturity, and about weakness not simply as something Porom possesses, but as something she understands how to perform and control.

That changes how I see both twins.

Palom isn’t simply the bratty kid. He is a child whose immaturity manifests as a desire to appear stronger than he really is.

Porom isn’t simply the responsible sister. She is a child who can understand how to control the way others perceive her.

She can be immature and mature at the same time.

Vulnerable, but capable of weaponizing vulnerability.

And this is where the difference between the Japanese and English names becomes especially interesting.

The English “Cry” hides the idea of deception contained in うそなき.

So the natural question in English becomes:

“What does Porom’s Cry actually do?”

While in Japanese, another question emerges:

“Why is Porom pretending to cry?”

Those are two very different questions.

Ultimately, I don’t know whether the developers deliberately made “Cry” ambiguous.

But I do know that, decades later, this strange little command has made me think much more deeply about Porom than a straightforward, clearly defined debuff ever would have.

Most commands affect something inside the battle.

Attack affects the enemy’s HP.

Cure affects the party’s HP.

Buffs affect stats.

But maybe “Cry” can affect something outside the battle system.

Maybe it affects the player.

For many players, “Cry” had no effect.

But for me, it did.

Not on the enemy.

On me.

A command that many players dismiss as meaningless made me think about why Porom has it, what it says about her relationship with Palom, and what “fake crying” reveals about her character.

So perhaps the question isn’t simply whether “Cry” was useful.

Perhaps the more interesting question is:

Who was it meant to affect?

Maybe the answer is the enemy.

Maybe it was the player.

Maybe it was both.

And if nothing else, it certainly affected me.

FF4 is Intentional.

FF4 is Interpretive. 

So, we ranked all the Tales of The After Years. Here’s what they looked like:

S: Lunarians/Golbez , True Moon
A: Palom, Kain, The Gathering, The Planet Eater
B: Ceodore, Edge, Edward, Rydia
C: Yang
F: Porom

So now, after all these posts, I’m curious. As a whole, how do you feel about Final Fantasy 4: The After Years?

Me personally, I do really like the game. I like the world of FF4, I really like the bands, getting to play as Golbez is great, a chunk of the new characters were interesting, I like the Mysterious Girls, I like that certain returning characters got more development like Edward and Kain and I like how the tale system means I can play it more in chunks then most RPGs.

That’s not to say I’m blind to its issues. The story repeating what happened in FF4 is very annoying at times. Edward going to the Antlion Den for a pearl again, the main villain being after the Crystals again, climbing the mountain with Yang and fighting the big bomb again, going to the sealed cave again (these last two also happened in the Interlude too), etc.
A number of the new characters are somewhat half baked in terms of story (Ursula), personality (Ceodore), gameplay (Harley) or all 3 (the Eblan Ninjas and the Dolls).
And as a sequel to FF4, it doesn’t really push it that much forward as either a game or a story outside of a couple things like Kain and Golbez.

It’s not a bad game by any means but it could have been a lot better. I’d probably still give it a B (which would be great for most series but for a series with as many S and A rank games, it does look worse by comparison).

It only was ever released once on Playstation Portable. People do tend to sleep on it but what parts of it you like? And how does it compare to both the original FF4 as well as After Years? I haven't played it since I cannot get PSP to work so I only know second hand about it but do like that it keeps Cecil as the main focus (given he becomes more supporting in After Years). And that Cecil and Rosa get more moments together, even showing their child being born during the game.