And so mark Child of Light as an unfinished work. Its three-pronged idea remains 33% explored: the world is beautiful; the combat progression is callow; the narrative is so obsessed with its own telling that it never leaves the tunnel. Forget 10 hours; I’d spend a lifetime in this world if only there was something for me to do in it besides hearing these idiots jabber in ABCBBDEE (or whatever) rhyme. The game’s enormous mistake is to surmise that the exposition of a sincere narrative necessarily involves the JRPG’s fetishization of innocence. Xenogears, after all, was about God, not Chu Chu; Earthbound was about America, not Ness. Child of Light, on the other hand, is about being about children. By missing the forest for the trees—so many characters cry that it playfully refers to it as “making dew,” for example—it utterly infantalizes the player.