Dragon Quest I HD-2D

The JRPG that began it all, establishing the tropes and structure of the genre, the first Dragon Quest has just received a substantial new coat of paint with this HD remake that presents a by-the-books, but very charming story with an intriguing combat system that is fun precisely because of its apparent unfairness.

We play as the descendant of the legendary hero Erdrick, who one day hears a strange voice in his dreams warning him of the encroaching darkness and the impending doom of the kingdom of Tantegel. As luck would have it, we soon bump into some soldiers from that very same kingdom, who agree to escort our hero to their home after he saves them from monsters – but not without first alerting him of Tantegel’s plight: an accursed island has appeared in front of their good city, teeming with monsters and ruled by the evil Dragonlord, “the foulest of fiends.”

Although this is the very first Dragon Quest game, we’re already presented to a world full of history, which is the thing that binds our character to his quest: his duty to save the world comes from his bloodline, from the Erdrick of legends, from the past. First, however, we must prove our worth, for you see, we have no evidence of our ancestry, so people are, of course, wary of this random guy clad in armor claiming to be the descendant of their great hero. Some even question their king’s sense in giving us a chance to show our mettle, although others get his desire to cling to hope, as their situation is indeed dire.

The Dragonlord, after all, seems to be evil incarnate, a being whose mere existence is enough to impact the land negatively. “Since the appearance of the Dragonlord, even the crops fail to grow as they once did. Is this, too, the power of the darkness made manifest?” a farmer asks us. There are rumors of towns besieged by monsters – and we indeed pass by their ruins on the world map – and even the princess is said to be missing, probably kidnapped by the foul creatures. “Garrr, ‘tis but one funeral of a comrade slain by fiends after another of late,” a carpenter tells us. And when we get to a ruined village, we find a single old woman alone in a corner. “All that I wish is to die here along with my home, that the monsters did so savagely lay waste,” she says, “Pray, let me alone.” Much like in real life, people here are not doing great, it seems.

So, we go into the world to follow our ancestor’s footsteps, visiting his graves, retracing his actions, revisiting the past so that we may turn it into the present. For in a way, we must become Erdrick ourselves, even acquiring his equipment to go into battle much like he used to: our goal is to morph into this ancient symbol of hope.

Soon, we meet a bard named Zalen who is much like us: the descendant of a hero, haunted by his legacy. But if the destruction perpetrated by the monsters gives us purpose – to save the world and destroy them –, it robs him of the very same thing. “Shall all mankind’s great settlements soon fall to the fiends as this once-bustling town did,” he asks while staring at the rubble, “and if such is our fate, what meaning is there in bringing new works of song into being?” Zalen is asking how one can make art while everything else is coming crashing down at them: the world is ending, war is brewing, Trump is still in office, and he’s making music, he’s writing poems. Zalen’s tragedy, then, is that he fails to understand that there’s nothing more urgent in these desperate times than art. For it’s when we need them the most: all the feelings, the solace, the escapism, the critical thinking, the lessons, the empathy, and all else that art can provide.

Dragon Quest’s tone is its secret sauce, as it’s essentially melancholic while also being quite funny, in a captivatingly whimsical way. It’s sad, yes, but also quite silly. There’s this early moment when we go to Erdrick’s Hollow to visit his grave, in hope of guidance, and what do we find there? A group of adventurers looking for almost the same thing. These would-be heroes offer to give us a piece of advice regarding that dungeon and ask us to take a quick look back. When we oblige, they hastily run off to get to Erdrick’s gravestone before us, hoping to get their hands on whatever treasure it hides. So, while we explore the place, we will often come across them, standing still in a corner, totally hapless: one will refuse to admit that they’re afraid, they’re just resting, you see. Another is gathering courage to fight a simple slime, who is right next to them… sleeping soundly, bored.

Dragon Quest is also hopeful. Some of the people we come across die or meet tragic fates – there’s melancholy, after all – but this is a game where a deserter has a chance to show his courage and find redemption. Where criminals band together with villagers to fend off monsters. Where cowardly would-be heroes get another chance to prove their worth. At the end of the day, we feel good playing Dragon Quest. It’s one of its many charms and why it eventually grew to be considered the comfort food of RPGs.

The writing in English, with all its “thees” and “thous,” gives a special charm to the proceedings with the frequent contrast between form and content, between the former’s formality and latter’s silliness. We arrive in a castle of a man in love with medals, for example, and hear a servant say, “Why, the other day, he was pondering the matter of his little trinkets so intensely that he forgot even to dress! There was much panic about the castle, I can tell thee!” The situation and dialogue are absurd, but the writing makes Dragon Quest handle these moments with a straight face.

This gets specially funny when the game starts to play with the form too, maintaining those “thees” and “thous” even when the dialogue is full of contractions and mistakes to pass the idea that the character speaking is of a low education: “Oh, and just so thou know’st, there’s s’posed to be faries in there wot useth magic to confound all who enter, or somefing. Anyway, be lucky, eh?”

This remake also builds its villain and princess much better than the barebones original. The Dragonlord, for example, is now the most terrible of dudes: the entitled one, who can’t stop talking about what he’s owed by the world. He believes himself to be of a superior race and, because of that, with the right to be an asshole. Punching his face is incredibly satisfying. Very cathartic nowadays.

There’s this shot of the Dragonlord threatening the princess, which has her standing against him in front of an injured soldier, which speaks volumes about her. We get everything there: she’s strong, decisive, with a purpose. She doesn’t cower before entitled dudes.

Our hero, meanwhile, also fights everyone alone, but gets properly praised everywhere he goes. And people are not shy about it, so things can get weird sometimes: that guy who likes medals and (is often naked), for example, says when he meets us, “Such minimal wavering of gaze… Such maximum muscle in both leg and arm… Such…purpose!” which makes the vibes immediately awkward. But to balance things out – and to avoid becoming the unhinged power fantasy certain games are – some characters also make fun of us for the fact that we’re saving the world by ourselves: “Do you… have any friends?” a fairy asks us, worried, while a guard says, “Thou must be surpassingly strong… or perhaps simply stupid.”

This leads us to the combat system. Dragon Quest laid the foundation for the turn-based combat of later JRPGs, but this remake adds certain things to spice things up. First, just like in the original game, we’re alone. There’s no party. And we only have one action per turn, which means the usual strategies (like two party members attacking while the others heal or buff everyone each turn) don’t work here because our hero must do everything himself. Any turn spent healing or curing a status ailment is one turn not causing any damage to the enemies, who will continue their relentless onslaught.

“Enemies” in the plural because, unlike in the original, where each fight was a one-on-one affair, here there can be several monsters on the screen at the same time. And because life never makes things easy, some of them can even act more than once per turn. This profoundly changes the dynamic of each encounter as it forces us to use every tool in our arsenal just to survive.

If there’s an item that makes enemies sleep for a couple of turns, we must use it. If there are weapons that hit more than one enemy at the same time, we must use them in areas where such fights become worrisome. If there’s an ability that allows us to sometimes parry incoming attacks, we must use it when we’re overwhelmed and pray to the gods for luck – even though they hate you and will make this bloody thing fail 9 times out of 10 (or maybe that’s just me). We must learn enemy patterns, equip things to negate status effects, and adapt to their attacks, not being afraid of using some of our most powerful ones to dispatch common monsters just to avoid dragging the battle for too long, for they can always land a critical hit and make things suddenly dangerous.

Some, like Bob, the cynic, can complain that this is unfair, that an ambush or a sleep status effect can give us a game over in the blink of an eye. But it’s this unfairness that pushes us to engage with the game’s systems, checking our equipment, our abilities, and magic, punishing us if we get too comfortable with the same set-up and strategy. We can equip certain rings to greatly diminish the chances of our hero taking a nap in the middle of a battle, for example, and from a certain point in the game, we even get stronger if we’re in low health, diminishing the negative impact of ambushes. There’s always a counter, in other words, something to balance things out, such as abilities from other games that were added here in the form of scrolls, leveling the playing field (and rewarding exploration).  And the best part? This “unfairness” also makes all the praise people shower on our hero make sense, as this time we really had to fight for it. This time, we earned it.

Finally, the presentation here is stellar. The HD-2D treatment revitalizes the sprite-work of old with ridiculous amounts of bloom and lighting effects, making it look much like your sweat: shiny and beautiful. And the music of Koichi Suigiyama, with its classical and baroque influence, is now given its best orchestrated rendition by The Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra. Like most Dragon Quest soundtracks, it’s truly beautiful… and repetitive, as there are too few tracks for the length of the adventure (although Dragon Quest I is on the shorter side, so it suffers less from that). But one can dream of a new Dragon Quest where each town has its own bespoke music.

The main pillars of what makes a Dragon Quest game work can all be found here: the whimsy of the dialogue combined with the melancholic tone of the story, the by-the-book but engaging turn-based combat system, and the classical, symphonic music. It’s a wonderful remake that successfully revitalizes a piece of RPG history and makes it stand on its own feet.

January 07, 2026.