This article is founded completely on falsehoods to serve its narrative, in the process doing it a severe injustice, because there are no shortage of examples to employ without molding the narrative to prey upon a recently released title within (but not usually adherent to) a troubled genre.
The pixelated art style of this new beloved JRPG looks positively modern in comparison to how it unnecessarily sexualizes, infantilizes, patronizes, and exploits the abuse of nearly every one of its women characters.
I can think of perishingly few female characters who are sexualized or infantalized in Octopath. Even Primrose's concept art is positively tame and tasteful compared to the fanservice permeating other JRPGs, and although the fact that her dancer outfit didn't change when embarking on her quest was disappointing, it's as understandable as the fact that job sprites weren't given overworld animations—the process would simply have required an excess of spritework. Moreover, to characterize "nearly every one of its female characters" as underdoing abuse is staggeringly inaccurate. It's mostly relegated to several characters within Primrose's storyline, which deals with sex trafficking.
There's a clear, gendered difference between how the male and female protagonists storylines play out. We've seen this in the genre before, though JRPGs often
get a pass, perhaps because American writers use "cultural differences" as an excuse or simply don't bother taking these stories very seriously.
But I'm tired of excuses for why we should ignore this bullshit.
To its credit,
Octopath Traveler does have an even gender split among its eight heroes. But the portrayal of the women is a noticeable regression from JRPGs with solid women protagonists (consider
Final Fantasy VI's Terra and Celes,
Trails in the Sky, or
Valkyrie Profile).
Is this writer unaware of FFVi's own portrayal of sexual abuse in Celes' storyline, or the impications of Terra's mental enslavement? Octopath's treatment of its male and female characters is generally equitable, with male protagonists' physical attractiveness being frequently remarked upon.
Primrose's origin story begins with shades of Arya Stark -- if Arya chose to become a sex worker instead of an assassin, and her entire personality revolved around a) being like rly hot, and b) whoring for Daddy.
After surviving her noble father's assassination, Lady Primrose went into hiding as a tavern's prized dancer. She and the other dancers are regularly beaten, starved, and raped by their "master." Yet Primrose is only motivated into leaving these abhorrently abusive conditions when one of the men who killed her father happens to walk in.
The author has at once gravely misunderstood Primrose's motivations and situation, while also disingenuously reducing her entire character and arc to her beauty and abuse—
where is the positive feminism here? Let alone while evoking the genuinely misogynistic minefield that is HBO's Game of Thrones.
This kind of careless mishandling of Primrose is a result of writers who want to use women's trauma to give a thin character some semblance of personality or depth. But her trauma is conveniently forgotten about for lighthearted moments when Primrose needs to be The Fun Sexy One.
Why should Primrose be wholly reduced to the trauma she's endured? Can she have no personality outside of that? Primrose has few "lighthearted moments" that relate to her experience in sex trafficking. Sexuality, in general, sure, but they're not inextricable topics, and that is unfortunately one aspect of life Primrose has no shortage of canniness in—and the travelers' banter scenes are often about teaching one another from their individual expertise.
This absurd scene goes completely unaddressed, as if it's not the most messed up shit you've ever seen in your goddamn life. But it tracks with the countless other inexplicable instances of infantilizing, sexually charged scenes between father figures and young girls.
And it's hard to even justify this portrayal of trauma
as lazy world-building to convey
Octopath's gritty, cruel vision of society. Because it's pretty much exclusive to Primrose's story, and it's entirely inconsistent with the comparatively rosy world experienced by every other character.
Where are these countless other instances? The scene with the priest talking about his deceased daughter is meant to be a viscerally disgusting, spine-crawling moment that makes the player all the more eager to dismantle this trafficking organization.
Octopath's world-building couldn't be further from laziness, and the world isn't half as "rosy" when one takes the time to read dialogue and backstories.
Whether or not it knows it, Octopath Traveler perpetuates the same vile treatment of women as the villains it tries to condemn. The notion that women would rather die than live with the shame of rape or sex work is a sentiment put into the mouth of so-called "ruined" women. And nobody contradicts these characters. The game does little to disavow its audience of the belief that, on some level, it's true.
Untrue. Arianne's entire storyline revolves around her desire to regain her life outside of her abuse, to find a place externally and internally where it no longer defines her.
The physical beauty of three (out of four) of the women protagonists is referenced throughout. It's remarked on whenever Primrose is on screen; Tressa's captain savior focuses on it when they meet, even though she's a child; the religious Ophelia's own father figure feels the need to praise it in his daughters.
Complete fabrication. Leon never focuses on any such thing with Tressa. Ophilia's father made an innocent remark. H'aanit's attractiveness is only commented on by Ophilia, and is an example of a positive LGBT depiction.
On the Daddy front: There are just a few too many instances of women's fathers serving as a replacement for their own character motivation. Ophelia and Lianna's story is so ludicrously centered around their paternal figure that Lianna betrays Ophelia on the off chance that some dude might bring him back from the dead.
Almost every protagonist has a mentor or partner who affects them in some manner—including the males—and no, they are not all paternal, and certainly not all defining. Ophilia's father is only of passing relevance to her personal journey. H'aanit is constantly portrayed as the more maturely disciplined one in contrast to her hunting mentor, teaching him as much as vice-versa.
Primrose and Ophelia are the only two characters whose predominant special skill is to call in someone more powerful than them for assistance in battle. Tressa also has a summoning ability tied to her job, and H'aanit's hunter skill lets her summon animals.
Again, I'd be willing to overlook this if any of the male characters' special skills were at all tied to summoning others for help. But their abilities are all markedly more self-sufficient and grounded in raw power, competence, and intelligence. The men get to challenge people to sword battles, glean useful information, steal valuable items, and concoct potions.
This game mechanic could have been a sexist flaw if it was done poorly, or ever detracted from the characters' agency or competency, but it doesn't—made more apparent by the game's isolation of the protagonists in-story. Primrose, Ophilia, and Tressa single-handedly vanquish combat-hardened criminals. H'aanit bests fabled megafauna.