I have a confession to make: I never finished Final Fantasy 10 as a kid. I remember getting so close to the end before falling at the last hurdle, finding myself stuck during one of the many final boss battles and unable to emerge triumphant. Over the years, I’ve learned all about its tragic ending by sheer cultural osmosis, but not once have I sat down to see it for myself.

But thanks to new meds that make me actually feel things and enjoy video games again, I recently blitzed through Final Fantasy 10 in under two weeks and got choked up during the final round of cutscenes. The end of Tidus and Yuna’s journey across Spira is wonderfully bittersweet, and despite not being a ‘happy ending’ in the traditional sense, the decisions it makes help reinforce the core themes of grief, hope, and sorrow in truly profound ways.

So, without further ado, let’s dive into what makes the ending of Final Fantasy 10 so darn special. Big spoiler warning for a game that came out several decades ago.

Final Fantasy 10 Wouldn’t Be The Same With A Happy Ending

The entire narrative of Final Fantasy 10 is driven by an inevitable tragedy. While the truth is hidden from the main character Tidus until much later into the story, when he chooses to accompany a summoner embarking on her pilgrimage to gather Aeons and defeat Sin, they are essentially signing up for their own death. Both the summoner and a guardian of their choosing must be sacrificed to bring about the Calm that gives Spira a period of rest and recuperation.

Such a perspective makes Yuna’s actions all the more heartbreaking when you understand the bigger picture. As she leaves Besaid Village at the start of the game with lots of luggage in tow, she isn’t simply bidding farewell to her hometown for a long trip, but casting her eyes upon it for the very last time. The music, dialogue, and pacing of this scene are heartbreaking when you realise Yuna is never going to see this place again. Whenever she explores a new city or makes a new friend on her pilgrimage, she must reconcile with the fact that all of it is fleeting. Attachments are only going to make saying goodbye that much harder.

The way Yuna turns around at the end of each major section of the game and stares longingly into the distance is a silent expression of grief that says so much. Barely an adult, and she is giving her life to a cause she honestly believes is worthwhile.

This is what makes her relationship with Tidus so beautiful. A fish out of water, not held back by the outdated customs and religious oppression of Spira, who comes to understand that it isn’t fair that someone has to give up their life each decade for a brief window of peace time when the cycle itself can be broken. It will mean tearing down everything these people have believed in their entire lives, but isn’t it better to start anew than spend your existence in complete ignorance? Taking control of your own destiny has always been a common theme in Final Fantasy, and rarely has it been done better than in 10.

But freedom comes at a price, and Tidus must soon come to terms with the fact that, much like the Aeons that have been used to defeat Sin for centuries, he’s also a fleeting dream in desperate search of salvation. Before the final battle, he informs his friends that after Jecht and Yu Yevon are finally defeated, he will have to say goodbye; to vanish into the Farplane where he can finally be at rest. It isn’t fair, but it effectively reinforces the theme that peace is always going to come at a price, even when you upend corrupt systems, and Tidus bidding a group of friends he comes to love farewell breaks a cycle of grief that Spira has long come to depend on for its own existence.

Final Fantasy 10 Has Ages Like A Fine JRPG Wine

The banishment of Sin not only brings about peace for Spira, but it also stops the world from relying on an endless cycle of death, grief, and sorrow that cannot do anything else but forever look back on the past. In order to hope for the future and change the perspective of Spira’s many people, everything had to change. Yuna’s speech in the final moments of the game focuses on never forgetting those lost in the past, but acknowledges that their lives must be honoured by looking forward to the future instead. And for the first time, life isn’t about dreading the death that will come in Sin’s wake, but realising there is finally an opportunity to build something that might last.

We could have seen Tidus and Yuna join hands at the end and address Spira together, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Yuna needed someone like him to show her the way, and the fact that there is more to life than throwing yourself into a cause that briefly extends everyone’s life but your own, and one should always ask questions about the systems that bind them, or they are doomed to a life of oblivious fear and servitude. We spend the entire game trying to deconstruct Yevon and the lies it has spent centuries peddling, and only through their own realisation does the party break free. But even after the battle is won, so much is lost.

A lot of people are mixed on how Final Fantasy X-2 rips away the meaning of the previous game’s ending by eventually bringing Tidus back (albeit in a secret, optional ending), but to me, it feels like Yuna has earned it after everything she has been through. It can be easy to view the sequel as an unhealthy dose of bubblegum pop and nothing more, but it is so much deeper than that. After spending all her life dedicated to a false cause, Yuna is finally free to explore the world and spend valuable time figuring out the person she is meant to be. She gets a haircut, a new outfit (or 17), and is far more genuine with her emotions, even if at times we see old habits slipping through.

What fascinates me most about the sequel is how Spira is desperate to return to a status quo that simply isn’t possible anymore. New organisations like the Youth League and New Yevon surface to give millions of people something to believe in and fight for, while all the temples and sacred sites that summoners once depended on have been made into grotesque tourist attractions. Yuna is grieving the loss of friends and family while trying to figure out what her life looks like in a world where there is nothing she needs to fight for, and finding even the smallest amount of joy in that existence is beautiful.

All these years later, I’m glad to have finally experienced the ending of Final Fantasy 10 on my own terms, and it means more than I ever could have imagined.

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Final Fantasy 10

JRPG Systems OpenCritic Reviews Top Critic Avg: 83/100 Critics Rec: 87% Released December 17, 2001 ESRB T for Teen: Mild Blood, Mild Suggestive Themes, Violence Developer(s) Square Enix Publisher(s) Square Enix
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