A Discussion of Kuja’s Personality and Speech Patterns. pt 2
This half of my discussion can be thought of as who I believe Kuja to be, really, behind his masks. It’s also a bit of why Dissidia fundamentally changed who Kuja is. It is no secret that I severely dislike Kuja’s characterization in Dissidia, but I want to use this examination of his lines and actions in the game to sort of point out why. Why his speech patterns in Dissidia are so out of whack, and why his behavior is off, as well.
A brief recap: we know that Kuja is fascinated with the Gaian concept of plays. We see him make references to plays, name the victims in his schemes after play-associated roles like Canary. We know he has an elaborate ‘master plan,’ one that has an almost poetic justice with Brahne falling to her own greed and a captured princess. But Kuja can only keep up these references so long as the plot follows his scripted lines. As soon as it deviates, we see another side of him.
Let’s look at Kuja’s first breakdown of control. Up to his point, he’s been unperturbed the entire game. Zidane surfaces, the infant Genome that he had found it so necessary to prove himself against, yet Kuja takes this change in stride. Brahne betrays him, steals Bahamut and attempts to kill him with the dragon he helped her harness. Kuja smiles, and proceeds to destroy her in return. Nothing can shake him. The entire story has been pre-written, he has planned out every move, every step, every line. This dance of death is one that he’s been brewing for nearly sixteen years.
This lasts until Alexandria, when Garland appears. Suddenly, he flounders.
Could it be…Garland?!
Impossible!
Why would he come to Gaia?!
He hadn’t planned for Garland interfering personally. Garland, who had sealed off Terra, who hadn’t surfaced since. This is the first event that doesn’t match Kuja’s script, and we see that painted finish drop like shattering glass. No mentions of stages, or plays. Simple shock.
This attitude continues. And who could this be, speaking to us, other than the bare-bones creation that ran away from his master? This is Kuja stripped of all his pretenses, a Kuja who is panicking because Garland has reared his head too early and he isn’t quite ready for him. We get a hint of this panic later, when Kuja returns in a limping airship to the Desert Palace with what remains of the loyal black mages.
“That blast almost destroyed our ship…
For a second, I thought I was…
…hahahahaha! What am I thinking!
What can that old fool do to me?! He can’t kill me!
Nothing can!”
We see fear–real fear from Kuja. Not of Garland, but of what he represents–death. Notice how not poetic he is, in speech. Notice how ready he is to cut himself off, how vicious he becomes. This only grows, when he turns to address the black mages:
A black mage attempts to humanize himself with a number used as a name, and Kuja’s response:
Shut up! I didn’t ask for your number!
He is short, nasty. Again, I want to drive home one point with these examples: Kuja is not poetic at his core. He likes plays, and he finds some meaning in mirroring a play with his grand scheme, but he doesn’t necessarily think in terms of poetry.
He is, in fact, much more concerned with efficiency than a poetically-minded creature. He numbers the black mages, and refuses to acknowledge their identities even after they’re clearly expressing signs of sentience. He is concerned with his master plan, rather than the damages suffered by the vessel they arrived in.
He’s scared, and he’s hyper-focusing on his end goal. Nothing can slow him down, he can afford no weakness.
And, just to make that point: his lines from the end of that same scene, as he attempts to regain his balance. We see the play theme return as he attempts to smooth over his ragged anxiety:
Hahaha…Zidane, your role in my play is far from over.
I’m gonna go rest now. Get back to work.
(It’s an interesting side-note to make, here, that addressing Zidane directly seems to serve as some mental safety net for Kuja. Even at this stage, there is a bond between them.)
Now, putting all that together.
Kuja is snippy, and can be tunnel-vision focused. He’s fiercely aggressive, and bluntly honest at his core. We see his true colors whenever he is off-balance in-game, and he is always curt but efficient when he is (beyond his obsessive fear of death). He wasn’t gifted with any of those social courtesies he showcases in-game; he arrived on Gaia every bit the destructive machine Garland created him to be. He learned the rest of it.
Before we see him in game, before he went to Treno, Kuja was a weapon. He builds machines to create more weapons, he designs life that is exactly what he himself is–just weaponry. I think this is important, when viewing his character as a whole, because a lot of this is unspoken. But those machines in Dali had to come from somewhere.
In essence, Kuja is brilliant, and very much falls within the antisocial savant territory beneath his Treno-cultivated mask. It’s probably evident by now, but this is my beef with Dissidia’s Kuja. The Kuja we see in Dissidia has been reduced to the painted mask we see for him in-game; the feathered pretty creature that likes plays and musical numbers. He talks poetically about goals and memories, but not of how to get out of his situation. The Kuja we see in FFIX would not subserviently allow a war to continue around him; he would not allow Kefka to manipulate him, or out-maneuver him.
There may be a part III to this, depending on motivated I get to pull quotes directly from Dissidia. Stay tuned.
jacobvanloon
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