Final Fantasy 16has multiple gay characters, and even a side companion with a deep trans allegory tied into their very existence.Square Enixdoesn’t beat around the bush or attempt to conjure up falsehoods when it comes to queer characters here. Everything about them is explicit and deliberate, with lore descriptions going so far as to describe key characters of the same sex as lovers. There is no entertaining other interpretations, and that kicks ass.
The first piece of representation is a small conversation between a soldier and a male sex worker within the military town of Northreach. A soldier tells his lover that he’s afraid of the coming war, and won’t be able to join his partner later that night due to a lack of coin. It’s a small, meaningful interaction in a game with thousands like them, but the queerness at the centre of this one is immediately normalised in a franchise where it so often isn’t. Here are two men who just happen to be in love, and they’re living out their lives like everyone else.
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While you stumble across a handful of minor queer voices throughout Final Fantasy 16, it is a more secondary element of storytelling than anything else. It doesn’t factor massively into Clive Rosfield’s own adventure as he acts as little more than a curious eavesdropper. Things change when you meet Dion Lesage however, the Dominant of Bahamut and royal defender of the Crystalline Dominion. He serves the crown and is obedient to his father, but comes to realise that forces operating in the darkness are twisting the allegiances of a kingdom once protective of its people. Now, it seeks rule of Valisthea no matter how many casualties pile up as a consequence. Dion, as a soft little fruit, isn’t too chuffed with rampant genocide.
The Holy Empire of Sanbreque is renowned for its Knights and Dragoons, with Dion almost considered the polar opposite of Clive Rosfield. A prince with near unlimited power and the willingness to do terrible things if it means approval given from those above him. Loyalty can only push a man so far however, and when he’s asked to summon Bahamut, even if such an act costs both him and his kingdom dearly, it all proves too much. This revelation is partially spurred on by the presence of his royal squire - Terence.
The first scene the two share is a romantic embrace fraught with passion, worry, and an evident love between them. Conversation about the coming battles and potential awakening of Bahamut worries both men, and how tragedy will see them cast apart with no means of reunion. Terence gets down on his knees to speak with Dion, with the Prince softly caressing his charge’s face before pulling him into a sudden kiss. The homosexuality contained within is nigh unmistakable, and I have to applaud Final Fantasy 16 for making one of the most powerful beings in all of Valisthea a gay man.
After the kiss we watch them silently value one another’s company before the drama picks up once again, with Terence rising to protect his Prince, despite being far less powerful. It’s such a touching relationship, even if their time on screen together is minimal. The second time we see them is also the last, with Dion relieving Terence of his duty shortly before their final battle as he’s asked to protect a young girl who recently brought Dion back to health in the ruins of Crystalline Dominion. Tears are shed, and the intimate looks shared between the two indicate a bond that, while never touched on in dialogue, is so clear to see.
We never see Terence again, so I have to assume he begrudgingly accepted his duty out of love for the Prince while knowing he might never see him again. He runs off without so much as a word, and you’re able to feel the regret in Dion’s body language as he swallows his pride and marches towards oblivion. Perhaps we’ll see them reunited in future DLC, since right now I’d say Dion’s story is not only incomplete, it isn’t offered the respect neither him nor Terence deserve. A groundbreaking piece of representation in the series that is whittled down to only two excellent, albeit brief scenes. There’s also the trans allegory I mentioned earlier, which is coded so deliberately that I couldn’t read it as anything else.
L’ubor is Forgemaster of the Briar’s Kiss in the desert town of Dalimil. He’s also the Desert Hare, an infamous informant who previously worked with Cid decades earlier. Previously known as Ruzena Dalimil, it’s frequently hinted that L’ubor isn’t merely a chosen successor for his previous master, but the very same person. His demeanour and manner of speech is drenched in a historical awareness of everyone and everything around him, and amidst a chaotic world he decided to embrace his true identity as time passed. Clive assumes he will be meeting a woman when first stepping into Dalimil, and even corrects his use of pronouns after seeing L’ubor in the flesh. A classic case of othering and being deceived, but L’ubor is otherwise accepted without question after this misunderstanding is swept under the rug.
But, sadly, FF16 even questions this heavily trans-coded story. His final quest puts a nail in the coffin of this theory, but the way in which it is written is undoubtedly trans-coded, and it seems like a missed opportunity to not tie this reclamation of identity into Final Fantasy 16’s wider themes that see multiple characters defy fate and take back control of their lives. That alone resonates with me as a trans person, and it will with many others. It falls short in a world that otherwise feels so welcoming to queerness in spite of its history. Characters like Dion and Terence are normalised, and there was a solid chance to break new ground in the genre if things only went a tiny bit further.
