Playing Final Fantasy XI for the story: Part 1 – The Zilart Saga

I have been meaning to play through Final Fantasy XI’s story for literal decades at this point. Ever since I first tried it, shortly after its original English release, I was fascinated by this game, but never managed to make much progress through it.

On its original launch, this was down to how deliberately slow progression through the game as a whole was — and how dependent on playing with others the game was designed to be. This was a massively multiplayer online RPG designed in the old-school, EverQuest-esque mould, where partying up was pretty much necessary for your entire adventuring career. And thus, it would take quite a long time to get anything done.

Final Fantasy XI hasn’t been like that for quite a long time now, though; much of the game can be played solo in conjunction with the computer-controlled “Trust” party members. So I decided it was high time I actually played through one of the few remaining Final Fantasy games I have not yet rolled credits on. Hit the jump, and let’s talk about how my journey has gone so far.

At the time of writing, my most recent milestone is that I have finished the main scenario missions for the base game of Final Fantasy XI, the Rise of the Zilart expansion (which was included from the get-go with English versions) and the Chains of Promathia expansion. Between these three scenarios, you cover a self-contained story that concerns the history of Final Fantasy XI’s setting, Vana’diel, and what is, to many community members, “the best bit” of the game as a whole.

This leaves three expansions — Treasures of Aht Urhgan, Wings of the Goddess and Seekers of Adoulin — for me to complete, plus the rank 6-10 missions for the home nations, the “tie it all together” Rhapsodies of Vana’diel storyline that was added later, and anything else I feel like doing after that which is not going to involve a massive time commitment.

At a bare minimum, I want to complete all the specific things I noted in the list above; the relatively newly added Voracious Resurgence set of missions introduced in 2020 sounds intriguing, but part of completing it involves heading down the path of making one of the time-consuming endgame weapons, and I’m not sure I’m up to that. But we’ll see when I get to it.

So that’s where I am. Let’s talk a bit about Final Fantasy XI, how it works, why it’s still worth playing today, some 24 years after its original release — and why it’s still surviving quite happily alongside its younger (but now also actually quite aged) MMO sibling, Final Fantasy XIV.

You kick off Final Fantasy XI by choosing a character race. These include the hulking Galka, the lanky and aloof Elvaan, the human-like Humes, the diminutive Tarutaru and the all-female cat-like Mithra. If this sounds a bit familiar to those who have played Final Fantasy XIV, each race in XIV‘s base game (not including races added through expansions) is a rough analogue to those in XI, though there are notable differences; the most prominent examples are that XIV’s Roegadyn are less bestial than their Galka counterparts in XI, and XIV’s Lalafell are less self-consciously “cutesy” than the Tarutaru of XI, notably lacking the latter’s variety of speech affectations-waffectations for the most-wost part.

Originally, race choice in XI made a huge difference, with starting stats and stat growth varying quite significantly, meaning certain races were eminently more suitable to certain Jobs than others. As time has gone on, this differentiation has been flattened somewhat, so it’s now simply more of a role-playing and aesthetics choice than anything else. There are still some minor differences, but for the most part you can probably make up for any shortcomings with equipment these days if necessary.

After picking your race and face-hairstyle combo, you then choose a starting Job. Like Final Fantasy XIV, Final Fantasy XI doesn’t lock you into a single Job for your entire adventuring career; you can change Jobs any time you visit your in-game house — which you get for free the moment you start playing — and an early part of character progression involves choosing a “Subjob”, which allows you to use abilities and traits from that Job while it isn’t equipped as your main Job. You do still have to level it independently, however, but it caps at half of your main Job’s level (until some endgame progression features allow it a few extra levels), so you don’t have to level it at the exact same pace as your main one.

While there’s a certain amount of “holy trinity” tank-healer-DPS to Final Fantasy XI‘s Jobs, in practice each job is quite flexible, particularly taking the Subjob system into account. Through a combination of Subjob and equipment, many Jobs can perform multiple roles in a party — and even switch role mid-combat due to the ability to swap out equipment at any time.

For my playthrough thus far, I have gone with Warrior (specialising in the heavily damaging but slow two-handed axes) as my main Job, with Monk as its Subjob. This is partly out of laziness, as both are available from the outset of the game — many “Advanced” Jobs added through the various expansions require you to complete lengthy and often quite challenging quests to unlock them — but also because it’s quite an effective setup for how I’ve been playing. I could probably be more effecting by subbing one of the commonly agreed “best” Subjobs, but for the moment, while I’m playing solo, it doesn’t really matter too much.

You’ll find that this is quite a common refrain when playing Final Fantasy XI for the first time in 2026. There is a lot of generally agreed “wisdom” accumulated by the community over the years, and some of it is undoubtedly effective — but also a fair chunk of it makes playing the game quite dull. For example, one of the most common pieces of advice for anyone seeking to do what I want to do — see all the main scenario stories — is “just level to 99 and get powerful equipment, then steamroller everything”. This will undoubtedly mean you don’t encounter any resistance at pretty much any point until the later stages of Seekers of Adoulin and Rhapsodies of Vana’diel, but it also means that some of the more dramatic narrative moments throughout the game somewhat lose their impact. If you can beat a “final boss” in just a couple of hits, it doesn’t feel like quite as much of an achievement.

With this in mind, I have ignored this particular nugget of wisdom in my playthrough, and as much as possible, I have been attempting to play Final Fantasy XI as if it is a regular single-player RPG. What that means in practice is that I am fighting my way through enemies in areas and dungeons that I am progressing through as part of the story, minimising my use of the “Sneak”, “Invisible” and “Deodorize” stealth spells (which prevent most — though not all — enemies detecting you via sound, sight and smell respectively) and accumulating experience points at what feels like a natural rate. I am doing the game’s “limit break” quests (which require you to complete a quest to increase your level cap every 5 levels between 50 and 99) when they come up, and thus far, having beaten Chains of Promathia, I am now level 89.

Pleasingly, at no point do I feel like I have had to “grind” to get to this point; this is a marked difference from how the Final Fantasy XI of old used to play. Back on its original release, a significant part of gameplay would involve getting into a party with other players and then spending several hours doing nothing but inflicting genocide on the complete ecosystem of an area until everyone had gained enough levels to move on somewhere else. Even then, many parties liked to try and “optimise” their approach by taking on enemies that were about at the limit of toughness for the party’s average level, rather than those the game considered to be a “decent challenge” or an “even match”.

One adjustment Final Fantasy XIV veterans deciding to head back and check out Final Fantasy XI will have to make is that Final Fantasy XI deliberately doesn’t make anything related to level particularly clear, other than restrictions on equipment you can use. When you “Check” an enemy prior to engaging it, the game will “consider” or “con” (a term borrowed from EverQuest for a similar function) it as “too weak to be worthwhile”, “incredibly easy prey”, “easy prey”, “a decent challenge”, “an even match”, “tough”, “very tough” or “incredibly tough”.

Enemies that are “too weak to be worthwhile” do not yield experience; everything above that yields increasingly large amounts of experience, relative to their actual level, and “chaining” kills of enemies that con as “even match” or tougher rewards you with increasing amounts of bonus experience. As such, that aforementioned party play back in the day tended to involve going after “very tough” or “incredibly tough” enemies and killing them as fast as possible in succession to maximise chain bonuses — though it is worth mentioning that “incredibly tough” can mean anything from “about at the limit of what you’d reasonably be able to kill as part of a 6-person party” to “this thing is 80 levels higher than you and will one-shot you the moment you look at it from half a mile away”.

One important change to Final Fantasy XI from those early days, though, is that killing enemies is now not the only means of acquiring experience. In 2008, the game introduced the “Fields of Valour” system, which allows you to undertake “training regimes” that task you with defeating specific monsters, with significant experience point rewards on offer for completing these repeatable objectives. These also had the helpful side effect of making the level range of various enemies more explicit than the “check” system. In 2011, this system was expanded with “Grounds of Valour”, a similar mechanic that applies in the game’s dungeons and offers escalating rewards for repeatedly clearing objectives.

Probably the most significant addition was introduced in 2013. The “Records of Eminence” system allows you to trigger up to 30 objectives at once, each of which are worth experience upon completion, and many of which are infinitely repeatable. Not only that, but completing Records of Eminence objectives also rewards you with a currency called “Sparks of Eminence”, which can be spent on decent-quality equipment right from your first steps adventuring all the way up to what is, in 2026, starter endgame level cap gear.

Records of Eminence also acts as a good guide through what it is possible to do in Final Fantasy XI — a welcome addition, since the game is notoriously and deliberately obtuse at times, with its original design philosophy being that it should reward the community exploring and sharing information with one another. To that end, don’t expect anything in the way of conveniences you might have come to rely on in later MMOs like Final Fantasy XIV: there’s no minimap, actual maps of each area cost (in-game) money to purchase before you can use them, the quest log is next to useless, there are no objective markers whatsoever, and non-player characters who have quests for you are not distinguished from those who are purely there for background colour in any way whatsoever.

In many respects, this wilful obtuseness makes Final Fantasy XI feel as much like a classic CRPG as much as anything else, and while it will definitely be an acquired taste for some — particularly those used to following step-by-step objective lists or breadcrumb trails — it does provide the game as a whole with a satisfying sense of discovery and adventure; it makes the game world as a whole feel less like a theme park, and more like… well, a game world. I got a similar feeling from wandering around Final Fantasy XI’s world as I do from early role-playing games like the Ultima series, where semi-randomly stumbling across interesting, helpful and meaningful things is a core part of the experience as a whole.

That’s not to say I would describe it as unequivocally “good”, however. At numerous points throughout the main scenarios, you will be given some sort of vague indication on what you might want to do next, but no specifics. This is particularly egregious in the Chains of Promathia expansion, which on multiple occasions sees a cutscene end with an important character just wandering off in their own little world, giving no indication of where they’re going, with your actual next objective being to examine a “Dilapidated Gate” that is three miles away and in a completely different zone, twice, then trade it an object you got thirty hours ago.

Thankfully, at this point, Final Fantasy XI’s main missions have been “solved” conclusively by the community, so getting those step-by-step instructions you need is just a case of looking at one of the community wikis — or, if you’re using the popular Windower community mod platform, using a mission tracker addon like Chronicle. I wouldn’t say Windower is as necessary to use as certain quarters of the established Final Fantasy XI community do, but it does offer some nice conveniences and ways to modify the game’s interface to suit your requirements.

To be clear, there is a fair chunk of Final Fantasy XI’s base game that you absolutely can complete using only the in-game cues given — and perhaps a few notes taken along the way. I found that this aspect of the game’s design started to escalate in the Rise of the Zilart expansion and really started to become an actual problem with Chains of Promathia; the latter expansion as a whole felt like a significant shift for Final Fantasy XI as a whole, both in terms of how ambitious its storytelling was (good), and in how much of a challenge it wanted to offer its players (mixed) — although there’s a notable caveat to that latter point, which we’ll come back to.

So let’s talk mechanics a bit. Final Fantasy XI is, as previously discussed, heavily inspired by the early days of massively multiplayer online role-playing games — what with it being one and all — including titles like EverQuest. That means combat has a very different feel to Final Fantasy XIV; depending on which Job you are playing, you will probably find that you are “doing” a lot less on a moment-to-moment basis than in Final Fantasy XIV (and other games that follow a more World of Warcraft-inspired mould), but that things like your statistics, equipment and suchlike take on significantly more importance.

Notably, auto-attacks are a crucial part of battles, compared to their near-irrelevance in Final Fantasy XIV, particularly for melee-focused Jobs. Most Jobs don’t really have a “rotation” of abilities — a set of quick-cooldown skills that you repeatedly trigger in succession as efficiently as possible — in the same way as Final Fantasy XIV, either. In fact, most abilities that you use have a cooldown that is anywhere between 30 seconds and several minutes, and weapon-specific attacks are tied to a slowly accumulating “TP” (Tactical Points) resource rather than being your default means of dealing damage.

In many respects, the slow pace of Final Fantasy XI’s combat — in part a response to the fact that most players back in the day would have been playing using connections that are significantly slower than the ones we take for granted today — has an almost turn-based feel at times, even though it is very much real-time, just based on things happening with a set, often quite substantial delay between them. Using a Job Ability, casting a spell, unleashing a Weaponskill or even using an item feels like a significant, important moment in a battle, because it is — it’s important to time these things correctly, particularly in the more structured encounters found in the game’s instanced “Battlefields”.

If you’re playing in a party, there’s another timing-based consideration, too: performing Weaponskills in succession with other players can result in massively damaging Skillchains — and magic-users who match the element of the spell they cast to the Skillchain can deal even more damage by causing a Magic Burst.

I’ll be 100% honest here: I’ve never really understood how the Skillchain system works or how on Earth you coordinate it with other players, but when playing with the computer-controlled Trust characters, they seem to have a good sense of when and how to perform them automatically in concert with the abilities you unleash, so if you’re playing solo it’s not something you need to think about too hard. This is… not great for learning to play the game effectively at a high level with other human players, but certainly ample for the purposes of making it through the story, at least based on my experiences thus far. Choosing a good lineup of Trusts to complement your own abilities is an important consideration, as a result.

There’s a lot less movement in Final Fantasy XI’s combat than there is in Final Fantasy XIV. There are no visible telegraphs to step out of, and no audio-visual cues that a particular move is incoming for the most part, aside from generic “casting”/”charging” animations and sounds. Enemies do have abilities that have areas of effect in some cases, though; you will have to learn how to contend with these by watching the text-based combat log more than anything. Enemy spellcasting and some attacks can be interrupted with certain Weaponskills, spells or abilities — or simply by dealing enough damage — but at other times, fights involve simply weathering the storm, hoping your healers keep up with proceedings, and that your level, stats and equipment mean you will ultimately win a war of attrition.

One thing you may find is that depending on the Job you choose to play — and to a lesser extent, the weapon you specialise in, since many Jobs can use multiple weapon types — you might find your tactical options in a battle feeling a little limited — though that isn’t always actually the case. For example, when you read through guides and wiki entries for certain encounters, you may find them advising you to do things like inflict the Sleep status on enemies, Silence them to deal with spellcasting and suchlike. While playing as a Job like Warrior, for example, it’s simply not possible to do some of those things; some things can be achieved using items and Weaponskills, but for the most part I’ve found myself just having to power through certain challenging multi-enemy encounters — or perhaps tweak my own way of playing to better fit what a particular scenario confronts me with.

What initially appeared to be one of the most egregious instances of this happening for me occurred during one of the climactic fights of the Rise of the Zilart expansion. On the run-up to the final boss encounter, you have to deal with a series of other bosses. Once of these bosses has the ability to “Charm” you — i.e. completely take you over and make you fight on their side. If you’re playing in a party, this is an inconvenience that can be resolved (or at least dealt with) by your comrades.

When this happens to you while playing solo, however, all of your Trusts are immediately unsummoned — so they can’t cure you — and the fight is effectively over immediately. Not good. It took me a couple of attempts to twig that it was my efforts to tank the boss — a reasonable thing to work on, given my Job — that were causing this issue. As soon as I replaced one of my regular lineup of Trusts with one that specialised with tanking, and ceded all of my own responsibility on that front to him, the whole thing went much more smoothly, as Trusts can’t be Charmed.

The one side-effect of the way the combat works is that battles are a lot less “cinematic” during the part you’re actually fighting than they are in Final Fantasy XIV — and many other Final Fantasy games, for that matter. Battles against huge bosses — such as Chains of Promathia’s final Big Bad — will often see you just hacking away at their ankles rather than getting a full sense of their scale. To an extent this is unavoidable, and in particularly important (usually “finale”) encounters, there are often phase changes that involve a cutscene and an opportunity to rest before re-engaging — plus, of course, an overdramatic cutscene of the boss’ eventual defeat when you are finally victorious. It does mean that boss encounters can, at times, just feel like slightly more challenging regular encounters, though, which is a bit of a shame. It would also have been nice to have some truly unique final boss themes, rather than tracks we’ve heard numerous times in cutscenes prior to the final encounter.

Chains of Promathia, in its current state, also has its own unique issue that stems from the game’s attempts to be more accessible. Originally, Chains of Promathia was designed as a storyline to be played through by endgame characters, but it made various parts of its adventure more challenging by capping your level at various points, meaning you would have to fight in a weakened state — and almost certainly alongside other players. Speak to Final Fantasy XI veterans, and most of them will have war stories of entire evenings spent in the otherworldly “Promyvion” dungeons, which originally capped players at level 30 out of a maximum 75 at the time.

As it exists today, all of these caps have been completely removed, but the enemies in the areas that were formerly capped have not been increased in strength — though some high-level enemies have been added for the unwary to stumble into — and thus, if you’re playing as I have, naturally progressing through the levels as you work your way through the stories, a significant portion of Chains of Promathia feels incredibly easy. Yes, it’s all soloable with Trusts — and that was the main reason for the removal of the caps, since players were finding it difficult to recruit people to help them with the missions — but I can’t help but feel they pushed things a bit too far in terms of challenge factor… or the lack thereof, in this case.

This may all sound quite critical, but I’d like to note at this point that I have, thus far, had a fabulous time playing Final Fantasy XI, and I’m glad I’ve made it as far as I have. And a big part of the reason I still feel that way despite its numerous… idiosyncrasies comes down to the narrative, and more broadly the setting.

Final Fantasy XI’s Vana’diel is one of the most extraordinarily well-realised settings in all of gaming. I felt this from the moment I first stepped into it back in the early 2000s, and even though graphical technology has moved on considerably since then, I still feel that way to this day. Some zones are truly breathtaking in their scope, and every journey you take feels like it is meaningful.

Thankfully, said journeys aren’t nearly as frequent as they were back on the game’s original release; while teleportation once involved having to find a gate crystal from the game’s few mystical “crags”, then getting someone to cast a Teleport spell specific to that crag on you, then walking the rest of the way to your destination, since 2013 you have been able to teleport between any crystalline “Home Point” or “Survival Guide” book in the game for a small fee — and there is at least one of these in every zone. Home Points have even been added outside areas that lead to instanced battlefields in a similar fashion to pre-boss save points in offline RPGs, meaning that if you mess up an important encounter, you can quickly and easily get back there without having to do a lengthy Walk of Shame to try again.

That said, you still have to get to these things once in order to take advantage of them in the future, and in that respect you still get the feeling that exploring dungeons and negotiating perilous field areas still has a sense of meaning. It just means a lot less wasted time doing nothing but staring at your characters arse as you jog at a leisurely pace to your destination, and a good balance between exploration and being able to actually make meaningful progress in a session.

The zone design is just part of what makes Vana’diel such a special place to hang out, though. A much bigger part is the people who inhabit it; everywhere you go is populated by a range of non-player characters, many of whom have something to say, just like in an offline RPG. Some have quests to offer you, some are just there for local colour, but it’s always worthwhile to stop for a chat with them, as you might find yourself learning little tidbits of world lore from casual conversations.

As you work your way through the series of missions that encompass the game’s main storylines, you learn a lot about the world — and your place in it becomes increasingly important as you gradually prove yourself. You learn plenty about the history of the world that led us to the conflicts depicted throughout the base game, Rise of the Zilart and the climactic events of Chains of Promathia. The things you do relate to things that happened in the past, and you become part of the legends of Vana’diel in your own right. Ultimately, by the end of Chains of Promathia, you have taken on a literal god and won. Proper Final Fantasy shit right there.

There’s a good sense of escalation between the three main storylines that lead you to this point. The base game concerns you initially dealing with sporadic incursions by local, relatively weak tribes of beastmen, and gradually builds to you confronting a legendary evil figure known as the Shadow Lord — and discovering the truth behind his existence. Rise of the Zilart, despite pulling one of the most ham-fisted retcons I think I’ve ever seen in its opening cutscenes, sees you delving into the deeper meanings and ancient origins of the conflict introduced in the base game’s storyline. And Chains of Promathia builds on this further, ultimately taking you to otherworldly places of legend that were simply spoken of in hushed, reverential tones throughout the prior storylines.

There’s a real feeling of closure by the end of proceedings, leaving you free for completely new adventures in the future — much as, many years later, Final Fantasy XIV would take much the same approach with its dramatic Endwalker expansion leading into Dawntrail.

One thing I will be interested to see — and one thing that I’m still not entirely sure Final Fantasy XIV has successfully nailed post-Endwalker — is how you follow up “beating up a literal god” with further adventures that feel meaningful and appropriate for your character’s apparent power level. This is a challenge that every MMO which enjoys multiple expansions inevitably has to face, and more often than not the approach simply seems to be not acknowledging how the rats you’re beating up as random enemies in the latest storyline are somehow stronger than the legendary God of Twilight; to put it another way, the subsequent expansions are best thought of as independent sequels rather than continuations of an ongoing narrative. This is why they often send you to a completely new part of the world that hasn’t previously been seen; while it still demands suspension of disbelief to a certain degree if you think about things too hard, it allows for a feeling of narrative “reboot” and a fresh start.

For those who have, understandably, wondered whether a massively multiplayer online game could possibly capture the feeling of playing a “real” Final Fantasy game — something people felt about Final Fantasy XI back in the day, and something that people still feel about Final Fantasy XIV now — you have nothing to fear. The only thing that Final Fantasy XI really lacks compared to the mainline entries on either side of it — 2001’s Final Fantasy X and 2006’s Final Fantasy XII — is voice acting; the sole voiceover in the game is from the original pre-rendered intro from 2002.

The musical score, always a core part of Final Fantasy’s appeal, is fantastic, and while it was the first mainline entry in the series whose score was not led by Nobuo Uematsu, several of Uematsu’s iconic series compositions do put in appearances at various points, and the bulk of the score, primarily composed by Naoshi Mizuta, is just as memorable as anything in the rest of the series. While its PS2-era synthesised instruments may sound a little dated compared to the sweeping orchestral pieces of current-era Final Fantasy XIV (plus XV and XVI, for that matter) the music contributes enormously to the atmosphere of zones, the drama of battles and the emotional engagement of the story as a whole.

In many respects, it may be a controversial take, but I’d argue that Final Fantasy XI actually feels more “Final Fantasy” than Final Fantasy XIV does, and a lot of that comes down to the overall gameplay and structure as much as the audio-visual aesthetics. Final Fantasy XIV tells an amazing story with some brilliant characters and some truly incredible music, yes — but Final Fantasy XI, to me, feels like it has a much greater emphasis on what I would regard as conventional, traditional RPG elements: meaningful-feeling progression through level, stats and equipment, with your level meaning more than just “what activities you’re allowed to do”; elements of character customisation and freedom to play in your preferred style rather than feeling locked into one single form of “optimal” play; and an emphasis on almost everything you do feeling like an organic part of exploring the world, rather than certain activities feeling like they’re gated theme park rides.

This is probably most apparent in the game’s dungeons, most of which are not instanced, meaning you can randomly run into other adventurers while you play — and even form impromptu teams with them if they happen to be working on the same objective as you. This is something that simply doesn’t happen with how Final Fantasy XIV is primarily built around its Duty Finder — and that game’s attempts to get people doing more collaborative adventuring in the open world have largely failed, as the immensely tedious spreadsheet-driven zerg rush that is The Hunt will attest.

Ultimately, Final Fantasy XIV in 2026 probably takes the correct approach for the vast majority of modern gaming enthusiasts — make the majority of the game completely soloable, put human players together for the most challenging (and optional) material — but there’s a definite magic to how, in Final Fantasy XI, you can sometimes encounter unexpectedly fun situations simply by randomly running into another player.

On top of that, most of Final Fantasy XI’s dungeons are designed as interesting labyrinths to negotiate, many of which have unique mechanics, traps and gimmicks to contend with — y’know, like offline RPG dungeons! — while Final Fantasy XIV quickly determined that taking a predictable, linear path from start to finish via three bosses along the way was the “optimal” approach for most players. Just ask anyone who ever saw their tank get lost in the not-particularly-complicated branching path of The Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak as it existed prior to 2022… and weep for how they massacred my boy.

Final Fantasy XI is not for everyone. I cannot emphasise that enough. It is slow, ponderous, wilfully obtuse, outright hostile to the player at times and pretty much mandatory that you have some form of guide or wiki to hand at all times while you are playing.

But thus far, about halfway through the “main story”, such as it is in a virtual world with so much to do in it, I have been having a great time — and I am looking forward to many more hours of exploring, fighting and learning more about this thoroughly fascinating game. If you have the slightest interest in exploring a game that has simultaneously moved with the times and stubbornly refused to change some of its most turn-of-the-century elements — or if you have ever played, enjoyed and loved classic-era CRPGs that were similarly less-than-forthcoming with their deepest secrets — then you might just have a wonderful time with it, too.

Now I think it’s time I looked into these rumours about the Treasures of Aht Urhgan, and I’ll report back on further adventures at some unspecified time in the near future…!

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More about Final Fantasy XI

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Want more Pete? Check my personal blog I’m Not Doctor Who, and my YouTube channel ThisIsPete. If you enjoy what you read here, please consider buying me a coffee.

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