What the “Kingdom Hearts II” Prologue Taught Me About Life Before I’d Lived It

The Kingdom Hearts franchise is among the most polarizing to grace the medium. With it’s obfuscating story line, odd integration of Disney worlds and characters, and a gloriously cheesy focus on the dichotomy of light and dark, the series has become almost infamous in it’s genuinely naive nature among the common public. Many have tirelessly examined the inner workings of this franchise, only to conclude that it was obviously written as it progressed, and Tetsuya Nomura’s efforts to tie everything in a neat little package were, unfortunately, misappropriated. Even I, a long defender of the storytelling at work, found myself flabbergasted with how obnoxiously butchered the finality of the recent Kingdom Hearts III was.

I defended this franchise previously, not because I felt the broader plot points were clearly communicated, or even very good, but because Nomura has shown clear indication of being a solid writer. A nice example of why I personally feel this way is within the controversial prologue of Kingdom Hearts II, where after four years of waiting for a true sequel to 2002’s Kingdom Hearts, we are put in the shoes of a new character, Roxas, instead of the boy we all came to love in Sora. And rather than show us into the magical worlds of Disney where we use the power of light to battle darkness, we find ourselves doing odd jobs and exploring a small town.

Much like the first game, Kingdom Hearts II begins with a light-hearted tone. Roxas’ life is fairly normal for a young boy, and he finds utmost pleasure in the simplicity of hanging out with his friends and merely enjoying his summer break. But his way of life begins to slowly fracture through the appearance of these odd, gray beings appearing across the town. From the outset, this is a typical structure of fantasy-adventure, where the main character quickly becomes wrapped up in a plot much larger than they realize, and eventually become the greatest hope for whatever it is they must save, usually the world. But Kingdom Hearts II treats this structure differently, by flipping the concept on it’s head and condensing it to a few hours of story and gameplay.

Shortly after Roxas’ tale begins, we see various obscure happenstances which aim to break the very foundation through which he lives his life. Beyond the strange creatures, he begins to have vivid dreams of Sora, he is harassed by strange men in black coats, and he sees oddities within the town that others rationalize away with scientific conclusions. Eventually, Roxas finds his way into a strange mansion on the outskirts of the town, rumored to be haunted, where he quickly comes to meet various revelations which explain the constant anomalies which have plagued his past week. Through this, he learns he is actually a part of Sora that sleeps and must be awakened in order for Sora to continue his journey. This boils down to Roxas discovering his own being isn’t meant to exist. He rests as a part of a greater entity and would not have the ability to think and act for himself if not for the boy he is meant to return to. The world he lives in is merely a man-made program designed for Sora to regain consciousness. All of his memories, friends, and experiences are artificial. In the end, he begrudgingly accepts this fact and reintegrates with Sora, thus concluding Roxas’ story.

So, what is it about this story that resonates so strongly with me while being dull to others? The common argument I’ve seen in favor of this prologue is how it creates a stronger desire for the player to see Sora, and how this anticipation makes the eventual return of our beloved hero much more endearing. I hold that this may be the intention, but it is not the reason I think so highly of it. Much of the gameplay within the prologue is driven through mini-games, meandering around a map, and sluggish combat. To an extent, this does create a freeing sensation when you get to Sora’s section and meet with combat and story-driven gameplay, tightly designed levels, and highly fluid action. But I believe the best video game narratives tell stories beyond their mechanics and script. It is my personal belief that Nomura is telling an empathetic coming of age tale of every person’s hesitation to grow.

To start, Roxas is a young teenage boy without any outlandish qualities, who lives simply in the quaint settlement of Twilight Town. He has a small group of friends with whom he spends most of his time with, as well as some rivals who serve as the archetypal bullies butting heads with our quartet of heroes. It is summer break, so he is making an effort to enjoy the rest of his time away from school. Some of the things he means to accomplish are a trip to the beach, winning an athletic tournament, and completing a summer project assigned by the school. These are objectives very common to adolescents without any sort of extraordinary goals to achieve. Roxas and his friends merely aim to live their best lives given the tools provided to them. Each problem they find, such as needing to take on work in order to pay for their trip to the beach, is one of innocence. Yet the festering difficulties breaking up Roxas’ simple life hold far more severe consequences. These are legitimate physical and emotional dangers that strike Roxas at a crucial point in his life. Suddenly, the issue of needing money for a trip is trivial to the looming crisis of dangerous creatures approaching Twilight Town.

Roxas, despite the artificial memories, has not led a comfortable life. When we view the game, Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, a side entry focusing on Roxas before the events of Kingdom Hearts II, we see he was born into a profession. There was no childhood or adolescence to prepare him for this occupation, he merely began as a tool for the franchise’s key group of villains, Organization XIII. As all Roxas understands is the life of a laborer, he finds solace in the bonds he forms with his coworkers, Axel and Xion, as they eat sea-salt ice cream after missions on top of a clock tower overlooking the gorgeous Twilight Town. While much of this side game is fluff, it does act as a vehicle to foster a deeper understanding for Roxas as a character, and when we compare that to his iteration in Kingdom Hearts II, it becomes all the more evident why his loss of agency in that entry is so unfortunate. Near the end of 358/2 Days, Roxas is forced to do battle with Xion, as she’s gone hostile for reasons he does not understand. Afterwards, we see an emotional scene of Xion fading away as Roxas desperately tries to cling on to a hope that she will survive, uttering the now infamous line, “Who else will I eat ice cream with?”. Now, taken out of context, this line is pretty lame, and the delivery of said line isn’t exactly the best, but look at it from Roxas’ perspective. In one short moment, he is stripped of something that allows him some form of relief from the stress and anxiety of a heavy workload in an organization which he hates. Being able to eat ice cream with Xion is the one area in life which he is able to feel peace of mind. He equates the act of eating ice cream to the act of being with his best friends, and now he is no longer able to be with one of those friends.

Through this tragedy, Roxas leaves the organization and winds up in the setting we found him initially in Kingdom Hearts II, oblivious to the stress from his former life. Roxas now spends his day as a kid is meant to. He whimsically passes the hours without fretting over responsibilities, he takes on part-time work for the sole purpose of having money for his own pleasure, he turns the simple act of walking around the town into an adventure of intrigue, he puts off important tasks such as homework only to hammer it out as successfully as he can in the end. These are all things I and many others did as a kid. Looking back, summer vacations were a true gift, as I haven’t had a full summer of innocent living since my first years of undergrad, and others had even less time afforded. Ever since, even without school, the stresses of life disrupt the ability to do the things I wish I could. I need to work on days I don’t have school in order to make payments. I have to turn down social opportunities in order to do schoolwork. I have to plan any vacation literal months in advance, as the spontaneity of abandoning my responsibilities without warning would have disastrous effects. In short, I can no longer have these summer vacations where my greatest worry is trying to figure out how to spend my free time. If life were that simple, we wouldn’t have such overwhelming anxiety across the globe.

But I’m not making an effort to write everyone’s invitations to their own private pity parties, as growing up and facing complex dilemmas is a natural part of aging and integrating into society. Rather, I aim to express how beautifully the story of Roxas can relate back to our own personal tales. I fully believe I and everyone else on this Earth are destined for great things so long as we put the effort into following our potential. We give up these simple pleasures for the sake of bettering ourselves, becoming something greater than we once were. Part of it is out of the sheer necessity our culture forces upon us, but we all have a natural drive for success, whether we wear it on our sleeves or have it buried under immense negative emotion.

With that being said, not one person enjoys having to give up the joy of leading a relatively stress-free life. We may feel ultimately happier when we begin seeking greater heights, but there is a part of us that yearns for peace, which is a true state of mind few can achieve outside of their childhood. That is why it is natural to feel emotional when we reminisce of these easier times. We become sad as we fill our minds with the melancholy successes or regrets from that era of life. We begin to think what we could have done differently if given our time back, or wonder why we spent our days doing certain things. They are memories of bliss, anger, passion, hatred, curiosity, discovery, romance, depression, and so many other things which slowly grow into an amalgamation of general feeling which we know not what to do with as we age.

But just as we are destined to prove ourselves, so to is Roxas. Even though his life means little to the true world, he is a part of a much greater cause. If Roxas lives up to his potential, he will act as a necessary key to freeing the world from a plague of darkness. Even though Sora is the vessel which will eventually claim that glory, it can’t be done without Roxas. But before he can live up to this potential, he must shed this sense of safety. This life he loves so dearly must be given up in order to become something great, and it is met with resistance and hostility. Just as we all get shoved into higher education or the workforce once we become adults, Roxas is forced to abandon all he knows just as he begins to learn who he is and what he’s destined for. It is relatable, to say the least, as evidenced by how many college students will change their majors or drop out completely.

But even as Roxas denies his destiny the pleasure of taking over, he eventually comes to realize what it is he must do. And in one of gaming’s greatest scenes, we see Roxas come face-to-face with Sora, who is recovering in a sleeping pod. Roxas is facing his destiny for the first time, and now that it is in reach as a tangible outcome, he finally realizes where he belongs. The pod opens, beckoning Roxas to grab hold of his destiny. The background plays Yoko Shimomura’s beautiful reprise of The Other Promise, and Roxas loses sight of all the negative emotions that came from leaving behind his known life. In his final breath, he utters, “Looks like my summer vacation is… over.” as the screen fades to white and the game’s title card fades into vision. What we witnessed was not an ending to Roxas’ story, but the beginning to his true destiny.

When I first played Kingdom Hearts II, I felt the entire prologue was bloated and pointless. Even though I did grow sympathetic of Roxas, I was apprehensive to the idea of returning to it on a replay. But I played this game for the first time in high school, where I found Roxas’ life to be relatable in the dullest way possible. As I’ve grown older, the story has maintained that relation while shedding new layers of detail which I find amazing. It was bold to present a story which so subtly provided a metaphor of our very lives in a franchise which was created primarily as a marketing gimmick, yet so many didn’t achieve the conclusion I would eventually see.

Perhaps it is a testament to how incredible the gaming medium is as an art form, as I’m not even sure Nomura himself intended to draw these parallels given how much he butchered Roxas’ story in Kingdom Hearts III. But even so, the prologue of Kingdom Hearts II will always be dear to me, because it taught me so much about my eventual struggles and realizations before I could comprehend everything as I do now. So before writing off the franchise as the convoluted mess it eventually became, it’s important we see these individual stories for what they are. The beautifully human tale spun within the opening hours of Kingdom Hearts II is something truly innovative and, to me at least, a masterpiece.