(Originally published to Glitchwave on 7/15/2025)
[Image from glitchwave.com]
Kingdom Hearts
Developer: Square
Publisher: Square
Genre(s): Action-RPG
Platforms: PS2
Release Date: March 28, 2002
Apparently, the Disney half is the more otherworldly of Kingdom Hearts’ concoction, portrayed as a fantastical escape into the exciting realm of adventure for our plucky young protagonist, Sora. While the scrappy, blue-eyed boy and his two companions of similar ages, Riku and Kairi, are obviously cut from the same cloth of Square Enix’s contribution to Kingdom Heart’s conceptual mix judging by their designs, it doesn’t take playing every game in Final Fantasy’s exorbitantly lengthy library to know that they have been created as wholly original characters exclusively for this new IP. Still, their humdrum life of lenient responsibilities exists in the realm of Final Fantasy, considering that established characters from Square’s series live in close quarters with them. Yes, everyone knows that the epitome of a mundane, Norman Rockwell-esque existence involves a Swiss Family Robinson lifestyle on a deserted tropical island with Wakka from Final Fantasy as one’s neighbor, pissing off one’s parents by accidentally kicking his blitzball through the window every other week. Whether or not their existences are as ordinary as the game’s introduction is depicted as being, its normalcy for Sora and company is interrupted when shadowy creatures known as “The Heartless” invade their island home and envelop both Riku and Kairi into a void of the unknown. Sora, on the other hand, does not join the fate of his friends because he’s the prophetic figure destined to rid the Disney multiverse of the Heartless plague with the esteemed keyblade weapon that brandishes Mickey Mouse’s royal insignia. Still, a fraction of what makes him worthy of wielding such a prestigious weapon is his selfless, good-natured personality, so he’s determined to save his friends from the predicament that has been foisted onto them. Similar to Zelda, Kingdom Hearts presents the plot premise of the archetypal hero–a young boy’s call to adventure prompted by his savoir role, formally unbeknownst to him, that has been foretold among said adventure’s key supporting characters. It fits the overarching tone of Kingdom Hearts appropriately, but the way in which the game contrasts Sora’s uneventful life with the journey that ensues shows a laughable lack of perspective on the part of the developers.
Just to clarify, my distaste for both Final Fantasy and Disney does not stem from a general apprehension I have towards all media created for children. Otherwise, my catalog of reviews wouldn’t heavily feature Mario, Sonic, Kirby, and several other platformer mascots meant to sucker in kiddies of all kinds. No, the overall mark against both entities that in turn makes them inter-media soul mates is that they are cornier than my stool after a third helping of succotash. I don’t know which media executive figured that cloying, mawkish sentimentality and baroque melodrama were key ingredients in striving for accessibility. Still, considering the success of Final Fantasy and Disney (to a disproportionately greater extent) which are both brimming with these characteristics, he might have been onto something. Personally, there isn’t a Lactaid strong enough I can take to withstand the cheese oozing from either entity’s pores as profusely as SpongeBob after being dipped in fondue. In saying that, I do express a fair amount of respect for Final Fantasy for pioneering the groundwork in what we know as the JRPG genre, even though I tend to gravitate towards titles in the genre that subvert its thematic foundation. Disney, on the other hand, I probably haven’t said anything agreeable in their regard since I was in kindergarten. Not only did Disney’s eponymous founder have a black belt in bigotry, making David Duke seem like an amateur by comparison, but the collective of properties owned by his monolithic corporation that are showcased here as Kingdom Hearts’ various levels also reminds us that he was the biggest hack fraud in entertainment history. Barely any of Disney’s intellectual constitution consists of an original idea. Hell, the estate of Edgar Rice Burroughs demanded that Kingdom Hearts credit him so the developers could use Tarzan, and this game is backed by a corporation so indescribably huge that you’d think they’d be bulletproof. Hercules is from the storied Greek mythos, British author Lewis Caroll penned Alice in Wonderland, The Little Mermaid is a Danish fairy tale, Winnie the Pooh is the brainchild of A.A. Milne, etc. And these are just a few examples from what’s included in the game! A Nightmare Before Christmas is technically a property that Disney can proudly call its own without adaptational complications involved, but the film is so staunchly associated with Tim Burton and his idiosyncratic direction and art style that the film is like a cousin twice removed from Disney’s canon. The mishmash of hijacked literary works with Disney’s patented schmaltz injected as a brand signifier is a reminder of the company’s all-around creative bankruptcy, but that’s not really the fault of Kingdom Hearts. Then again, separating further from the source material with yet another layer of interpretation is bound to water it down even more, which makes Kingdom Hearts exude an air of pastiche if anything.
Despite everything I’ve said, the format of combining all of these familiar properties as the pieces of a whole new product with foreign characters exploring them was what struck a chord in me when I was a child. Upon learning the concept that drives Kingdom Hearts’ narrative progression, I started obsessively concocting scenarios where my friends and I invaded fictional worlds that I was fond of (mostly from video games) and directed the stories surrounding them with my own creative insertions at the helm. The conceit was such a prevalent influence on my daydreams way back when that it’s unbelievable that I’m just now experiencing the source of my stimulation. So, do Sora’s escapades through treaded territory match the sense of wonder that the concept once instilled within me? Relatively, but I’m naturally lowering my expectations twenty years later. The cavalcade of Disney worlds is presented as if each property is an individual planet situated in the same galaxy, minus Winnie the Pooh’s domain where Sora teleports to a book containing the Hundred-Acre Woods to maintain the series’ presentational construct of a literal storybook setting. The vast majority of these worlds are segmented into districts, tied together by their recognizability from the film which the area stems or the shared, sensibly consistent iconography. I’m not sure if it's due to the graphics or the overall design, but each district emanates a feeling of a facsimile, as if we’re experiencing each Disney world via a series of dioramic models. I can’t determine whether or not it's a charmingly quaint aspect of the levels of Kingdom Hearts or if the uncanniness signals a bothersome sense of inauthenticity. Fortunately, each area’s distinctive gimmick adds a fair layer of moderate meat to spruce up its blankness and add some stipulations to standard progression. Sora consumes one food that makes him larger and one that makes him small as Jefferson Airplane once sang about in Wonderland, and the vines that dangle from the towering trees of Tarzan’s jungle are so long that they function as an organic slide. Olympus takes a different direction entirely as it is nothing but a series of enemy gauntlets taking place in a decorated gladiatorial arena–conducted by everyone’s favorite satyr Phil, who probably collects everyone’s wagers. I can’t say I’m all that chuffed that the underwater conditions of Atlantica force Sora to swim with a magical mermaid tail the entire time, but the consistent change of pace allocated to this world alone still fits the admirable pattern of flipping the script with each new setting unlocked. In the grand scheme of things, the veritable buffet of Disney worlds represented here are glorified versions of the typically wide selection of level themes found mostly in platformer games. Still, while I recognize that Kingdom Hearts is masking this trope with the perk of licensed properties at its disposal, it does achieve the same effect of preserving the player’s interest with variation. The novelty of seeing familiar land rendered in an interactive medium also helps, I suppose.
In addition to their polar topographies, another point of distinctiveness between all of the Disney worlds showcased in Kingdom Hearts is the thematically specific subplots contained in each of them. It’s as if Sora is interrupting the course of the respective film each world is based on, interacting with each world’s characters and creating an alternate deviation in plot direction as a result of his interference. Ariel still yearns to break free from her sheltered life under the overly protective watch of her royal father, Alice is awaiting her court-ordered decapitation issued by the Queen of Hearts, and Clayton is still breathing and walking about the jungle, with a lust to kill a gorilla so potent that it's borderline erotic. Fellow Kingdom Hearts-oriented faction, the “Heartless,” also seems to invade the scene as a new source of conflict amongst the ongoing established one, giving Jack Skellington new material to work with to spruce up the stagnating Halloween traditions of his holiday-themed residence. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t pan out for the Pumpkin King. Kingdom Hearts juggles injecting its own original content into these established stories gracefully enough, but it’s the way in which the player must progress this deviated scenario that is a bit oblique. Essentially, the player’s objective is to find the following cutscene that continues Sora’s mission to seal the world’s keyhole, which is anyone’s guess what the exact trajectory is to complete this recurring task. Once the player finds all of the immediate districts just by following the path of uncharted territory, it’s almost guaranteed that they’ll hit a brick wall in progression, and no amount of intuition will lead the player towards the intended destination where the next cutscene takes place. Oftentimes, furthering oneself through an area in Kingdom Hearts feels as hazy and directionless as attempting to find the origin point of where a fart was ejected. Every level in Kingdom Hearts is guilty of letting the player loose to blindly stumble around, but the worst offender of this is “Deep Jungle,” where the player must climb from the campgrounds to the tippy top of the colossal treehouse at least THREE times before they finally confront Clayton. The consensus pick seems to be Monstro (aka the whale that swallowed Pinocchio), but I’d argue that the innards of a sea leviathan are the only place the game offers where this labyrinthian, dungeon-crawler-esque level design is appropriate. Even the supposed “hub” of Traverse Town has the player run through each of its three districts in an indistinct pattern that is intended to eventually lead Sora to bumping into Donald and Goofy for the first time. I’ve often expressed that linearity in level progression can be a total snoozefest, but this mix of backtracking and shot-in-the-dark traversal is both contrived and unintuitive.
Kingdom Hearts also seems to punish the player while being adrift because the Heartless they once defeated will be resurrected once again if they retrace familiar territory. The tarry soul-suckers are the primary enemy type in Kingdom Hearts that Sora encounters, and the array of Heartless types is as diverse as the demons from Doom. Sora will start with swiping his keyblade at the knee-level, impish ones that invaded his island home, but they will soon be accompanied by Heartless that are at least five times more formidable. Some common variations include ones with wings that vaguely resemble bats, floating mages that absorb the elemental magic that coincides with their color, and rotund ones whose backsides are their vulnerable spots–evidently showing that they still possess stomachs if not a beating ticker. Other Heartless shape their identities from the world in which they reside, such as the skeletons in “Halloween Town,” the pirates aboard Captain Hook’s ship in Neverland, the ones that don Arabic garb while wielding scimitars in “Agrabah,” etc. The Heartless are certainly an eclectic band of interdimensional parasites; therefore, why Pinocchio's singing shoulder companion, Jiminy Cricket, keeps a log of them in a bestiary compendium. Their diversity is merely one fraction of their irritability on the field, but the feeling of annoyance mostly stems from their excessiveness. When arriving at any district of any world, it's almost guaranteed that Sora will be ambushed by a team of Heartless, with at least three different breeds fighting all at once. Not only do encounters come in multiple phases, but any aura of action in Kingdom Hearts will cancel interacting with anything else, like treasure chests and totally negate the use of the menu–erecting the most minimal pause screen imaginable instead. The Heartless demand that the player give them their full attention like a stern teacher during a lecture, which I’d find quite conceited, even if they have such a prominent relevance to the game’s narrative. Luckily, entertaining every bout with the throngs of Heartless will compensate the player nicely with the abundant expulsion of green health orbs and “munny,” the game’s currency that I hope was a typo left unchecked by the developers.
The persistence of the Heartless conjures up comparisons to the constant encounters that one experiences while playing a turn-based RPG title. Obviously, this is because Kingdom Hearts’ DNA is composed of half of that genre’s gameplay formula. Kingdom Hearts is staunchly situated as an action-RPG, a category of role-playing game that favors frenetic, uninterrupted combat as opposed to the patient, methodical inertia of the traditional turn-based setting. Increasing Sora’s various attributes via leveling up through combat is a core mechanical component, and his equipment can be swapped and accessorized to either augment these stats or customize a player’s comfortable gameplay forte. As par for the role-playing course, Kingdom Hearts offers two combat options that exist on opposite sides of the physical spectrum. The keyblade is naturally Sora’s melee weapon, slashing the droves of Heartless with an elegant onslaught of slick combos. The player can also choose to fight the Heartless at an impersonal range with magic attacks that span the typical elementals of fire, ice, and electricity. Later down the line, Sora can learn how to implement status-affecting magic, such as healing and using the power of winds as a minor defensive barrier. The latter magic mentioned is a blessing for any late-game challenges, but I always found the offensive side of Sora’s spells to be unremarkably tepid throughout his adventure, even in their enhanced versions. Maybe I verged towards the shade of melee inadvertently due to my penchant to do so in games of the same genre, but attempting to zap, burn, or freeze any breed of Heartless only ever resulted in shaving off a sliver of their total health. I’d suggest incorporating elemental weaknesses into the combat equation to give Sora’s magic some extra oomph, but perhaps that would result in an overload of parameters to work with.
The game does admittedly find alternate ways to make Sora’s magic useful with minor platforming or puzzle conditions that pop up occasionally. This is, to say, that non-combat-oriented mechanics involving Sora’s spells are needed once in a blue moon, but platforming in general is as second nature to Kingdom Hearts as its RPG components. To fully foster the wondrous sensation of exploring a Disney world, Kingdom Hearts implements utility-gated conditions to preserve the player’s curiosity. All out-of-reach platforming snags are resolved with every step in increasing Sora’s airborne aptitude, first expanding his jump to the heights of Air Jordan and then allowing him to glide briskly with the aid of Peter Pan’s fairy dust. The ability to unlock the five different trinity markers in milestone increments also generates a revisitation trip or two, and the goodies rewarded to the player for going the distance and seeing what’s behind these colorful ground stamps are either rare materials, extremely efficient weaponry, or one of the 101 dalmatians the game implements as a collectible. Mmm, my Metroidvania senses are tingling, and they’re quite surprised to be perked up in an action RPG such as Kingdom Hearts.
Really, what all of these atypical elements for an action-RPG indicate is that Kingdom Hearts is taking a kitchen sink approach in its overall directive. Emphasizing aerodynamicism on the field is one thing, but there is no greater piece of evidence that Kingdom Hearts refuses to commit to a stable gameplay identity than the interplanetary traversal sections. When I refer to the string of Disney properties that Kingdom Hearts showcases as “worlds,” I’m not using the term to broadly divide them. Kingdom Hearts is situated smack dab in the literal Disney universe, a galaxy of properties externalized as planets that orbit the Disney King’s castle (it’s Mickey. The game overtly obscures this information for some reason, like we can’t take an educated guess). Because the realm of space in Kingdom Hearts is as terrifyingly harsh as it is in reality, Sora acquires a game-patented spaceship known as a “gummi.” This space vessel that resembles a knock-off Lego creation the size of a walnut intrepidly undergoes sections that emulate the high-octane on-rails shooting of Star Fox. Of course, these sections aren’t nearly as refined and robust as Nintendo’s IP, but that’s to be expected of a game that insists on treating its overall gameplay essence like throwing darts on the wall. The transitions between worlds in Kingdom Hearts are an adequate enough mini-game to supplement a dry, standard loading screen, but its gameplay is so bare bones that it's as if space in the Disney universe is still in the underdeveloped fetal period right after the big bang occurred. If the game didn’t allow a warp function to quickly travel to planets previously visited, I would’ve stubbornly put the gummi on autopilot out of exasperation. However, even though piloting the gummi is an elementary excursion, the same cannot be said for the shockingly overcomplicated ordeal of modifying it in Chip and Dale’s garage. I will not pass judgment on anyone who either had to read the tutorial multiple times or refused to humor this little mechanic job altogether.
Kingdom Hearts might have a habit of undercooking its various gameplay attributes for the sake of variety, but one aspect that the game evidently placed on a pedestal of higher precedence is the boss battles. The Heartless may be the overarching agents of destitution in Kingdom Hearts, but the developers would be remiss if they glossed over the smorgasbord of Disney villains to integrate into the game as its milestone foes. The lineup of iconic antagonists is obscured in shadow as they ominously speak about their devious schemes like the Legion of Doom, but if their recognizable vocal inflections didn’t give away their identities, the rule of thumb is that they will be the final boss of their respective world that they inhabit. We’ve discussed Clayton already as the final confrontation in “Deep Jungle,” even though he’s a non-entity in the overarching plot involving the other villains. As for the members of the villain coalition, Hades pits Final Fantasy’s golden boy, Cloud, against Hercules at the Olympus Colosseum to kill the demigod, Jafar attempts to attain unfathomable power through the mystical genie lamp, Ursula manipulates Ariel to usurp her father’s reign under the sea, Captain Hook captures Wendy while evading that damned hand-chomping crocodile, etc. My favorite of the bunch, the grotesque, yet jaunty Oogie Boogie, is still mucking about Halloween Town with his three Boogie Boys, making mischief from the interior of their walking bathtub. The immensely intimidating Chernabog even makes an appearance, and the thought of being face-to-face with this behemoth demon lord is a spine-chilling prospect. It sounds like I’m fawning over these figures simply for their inclusion alone, like a frothing Disney fan boy, but the aspect of these villains that actually makes me giddy to discuss them is how the developers have designed their respective battles. To my utter surprise, the bosses of Kingdom Hearts are consistently challenging, almost to a degree where I’m concerned for their targeted demographic. As early as the second world visited, Cerberus erected a stiff brick wall in my progression with his spitting of flaming meteors, dark magic pillars emerging from the ground, while he protected all angles of vulnerability with his trio of chomping heads. Ring leader Maleficent burned me to a crisp with her neon green dragon breath too many times for comfort, and the underwater spatial parameters of “Atlantica” handicapped me in the fight against Ursula. Regardless of a particular foe’s steep difficulty curve, every boss fight in Kingdom Hearts requires a certain level of patience and battle acuity, unexpected of a game with the Disney name attached. I shit you not, the game that came to mind as I was dodge rolling, parrying, and looking for a window to heal during these fights was FromSoft’s future action-RPG series that everyone is probably sick to death of me singing the praises of at this point. How’s that for a moment of clarity?
The player must give every boss encounter that Kingdom Hearts dishes out to Sora their utmost attention because help is hard to come by when darkness befalls the Disney universe. Of course, what I’m snidely referring to are Sora’s partners, of whom I’ve been keeping veiled just to dedicate a tirade towards. Steadfast Disney figures Donald Duck and Goofy have been assigned by Mickey to assist Sora on his quest to restore balance to the realm, and it’s as disappointing as your mom making you take your little brother on a date with you. Besides their excruciating voices that make me wish that tinnitus would finally take my hearing out to pasture, these two examples of Walt Disney’s lack of real talent are about as useful to Sora as owning a car while living in Manhattan. They’re both intended to provide support in battle, with Donald predisposed as a magic-casting mage and Goofy as a defensive rock to block blows from Sora with his slightly higher stat range. Still, their inability to refrain from attacking enemies guns blazing and suffering the consequences of this action makes them a consistent liability. That, and the multifaceted elements of some boss battles that require more than simply attacking, like jumping over Oogie’s scythes spinning on his roulette table, guarantee that they’ll eat up damage due to their AI’s narrow perception of battle conditions. Sure, one can change their settings in the menu to make these grating dunderheads more practical, but there’s always an extent to their improvement. I can’t stop Donald from healing Goofy or vice versa instead of Sora as intended, and that’ll likely lead me to a game over as a result. In the sense of the story, are they intended as the comic relief characters? They’re both about as funny as a burning orphanage, or maybe I’m conflating my modern sensibilities with the humorous intent that Walt had in mind with these two during their inception in the early half of the 20th century. Either having a character whose speech is practically unintelligible without subtitles or the other, approaching each serious scenario by saying “gawrsh,” is a total conflict in tone.
I’d say to ditch Donald and Goofy by giving them enough money to drown their sorrows in the House of Blues, but their inclusion is relevant to Kingdom Hearts’ prevalent theme of friendship and other meaningful types of personal bonds. The Heartless aren’t just a race of enemies to provide constant whacking fodder: they seem to represent an overall sense of negativity and despair. Given that our protagonists are representatives of a company whose brand promotes positivity to a degree of superficiality, Sora and company are the combatants of the Heartless in more than just the physical sense, expressing the values of wholesome ideals as do-gooders ideally would. One could point to his blossoming bond between him, Donald, and Goofy as evidence of their stance, but the game presents their claims even clearly in portraying the relationship between Sora and Riku. In their halcyon days on the island, Riku was the stronger and more confident kid that Sora was in friendly competition with. Combine this dynamic with Kairi as a figure amongst it, and I smell a budding, messy love triangle waiting to ruin everything. When Kairi is abducted by the Heartless and the villain faction, Riku and Sora clash in their attempts to be Kairi’s knight in shining armor. Or, shining knight who wields the esteemed keyblade and becomes the hero of great destiny, Sora’s destined title that makes Riku green with envy. Their strained friendship culminates on the grounds of the remarkably ornate and wholly original Hollow Bastion, where it looks as if Riku’s jealousy has turned him to the dark side like Anakin Skywalker. When the keyblade teleports to Riku on his command, Donald and Goofy start following him on account of their assignment, and he throws Riku his old wooden sword as a reminder of his ineffectual inferiority. The scene is quite a gut punch. However, Riku’s newfound villain role is nullified by introducing Ansem, who was possessing Riku to antagonize Sora. The humanoid Heartless leader wishes to submerge the world into a complete dark oblivion using the universe’s core because he believes it to be the nature of the heart. Hmm, where have I heard this diabolical aspiration before? I would’ve loved for the game’s narrative to have culminated in Riku becoming the full antithesis to Sora and have our hero pull the plug on his oldest friend, who had verged too far to the side of evil. It would’ve illustrated a direct dichotomy in choosing the path of light versus dark, but the game decided to backpedal and put a bog-standard villain at the forefront. Then again, if I had a hand at writing for Disney, angry parents would start sending me emails demanding that I pay for their children’s therapy sessions.
Do you believe in magic, dear reader? I was skeptical of such phenomena, but I think I’ve been bewitched by Kingdom Hearts. Admittedly, I could make a drinking game for every time the game made me wince with its overbearingness, as I expected it would. However, the rich layers of gameplay Kingdom Hearts has in store caught me off guard enough to the point where I’m making genuine comparisons to a series I’ve often proclaimed is the zenith of action gameplay. Kingdom Hearts is a well-oiled machine underneath its cherubic surface, the battle bot colored pink wearing a bow that runs circles around its less deceiving competition. Consider its strive for variation that rivals any of my beloved 3D platformers that I grew up with, and this game would’ve floored me as a child, although lord knows I needed another reason to be as unpopular in school as I was already. Kingdom Hearts is flawed, cringy, and exudes all of the characteristics of its father company that I can’t stand on more than just principles alone. Still, I have to give credit where credit is due, and Kingdom Hearts is more than meets the eye. Maybe I’m just a big ol’ softy at the end of the day, and Kingdom Hearts has melted my callous exterior with its charms (or maybe I’m having a stroke).
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