You know how you have a few defining moments in your life you look back on that changed everything? A moment that you know if you had made a different decision, you would not be the same person you are now? One of mine was pressing “O” instead of “X”.
It was 1997 and my mom had bought my older brother and I a PlayStation for Christmas along with Crash Bandicoot (I had specifically asked for Croc: Legend of the Gobbos after a young, susceptible-to-ads me had seen a commercial) and Final Fantasy 7. Sonic the Hedgehog 2 was the first video game in our house, so Crash fit right in as we sped through the opening levels, hitting the “X” button to jump on the heads of passing crabs. Crash was colorful. He challenged our developing motor skills. He had attitude that as aspiring adolescents, we admired. What else could we even bother to play?
“...Quite possibly the greatest game ever made.” My brother read off the quote off the back of the other unopened case. “Let’s try this one.”
A massive sword sitting somberly in a spotlight. A flower girl juxtaposed by the grimy street--camera soaring backwards to reveal a massive city. The opening ballad hitting its crescendo synced up with that unforgettable logo. I didn’t know it yet, but we were in for something special.
My brother finally took control of Cloud. “Why is his sword so big?” I probably asked. “Why not?” he probably responded.
But the fantasy quickly came crashing back to reality. The first wave of enemies attacked and instinctively, he hit the “X” button, which for us, sitting at the bottom button of the controller, had historically always been associated with “hit ‘X’ to start.” Our gateway into the world of video games. It was the basis for how we had progressed in Sonic 2, in Crash Bandicoot, but when we tapped the button here, excited for Cloud to spring into action, he did nothing at all.
“Why won’t he attack? I’m pressing ‘X’! Nick, it’s not working!” This game is stupid, I can’t do anything!” Unable to wrap his head around this single-button departure from the basics, my brother was thwarted by the first encounter of many would-be-gamers--the controller itself. I decided to take his word for it. Final Fantasy 7 was stupid.
Over the next few days, I had finally defeated Crash Bandicoot’s first boss and was busy getting game overs on the second island. Every so often I would glance at the other case lying on the floor, forgotten. Cloud stood gripping his sword in front of the massive Shinra headquarters, beckoning me to take him inside. “...Quite possibly the greatest game ever made.” There had to be something to that. I’m happy to say I decided to find out what it was.
“Attack while it’s tail is up! It’s gonna counter attack with it’s laser!”
That was one decision I can safely say I regret--casting lightning bolts at a merciless robotic scorpion which reveled in repeatedly blasting me as I fell victim to one of Final Fantasy 7’s infamous mistranslations. I could’ve called it quits right there. “Game Over? That’s fine with me because I’m over this dumb game that blasts you after telling you it won’t blast you if you blast it first!” Even back then, I was never the kind of gamer to let a boss get the better of me. I reloaded my save, and decided to blast back.
Final Fantasy 7 was the first game I played that felt like it would never end.
Even though the preceding few hours have you attempting to disarm a bomb atop a collapsing support pillar, or escaping out into the night on a motorcycle after a courageous rescue mission, the memory that sticks with me the most to this day is leaving Midgar for the first time. After picking which party members would accompany you to Kalm, you’re introduced to the world map. Cloud suddenly looked so small in this vast green field with mountains and oceans on either side. Pressing “Select” brought up the in-game map. You were an insignificant dot on one of three continents. You were traveling on foot. You, along with your party members, still weren’t sure what you were fighting, only that you had to. Cloud was chasing Sephiroth. Tifa was chasing Cloud. Aeris had questions about the Ancients. Barret, ever the environmentalist, was trying to save the planet. Your heroics in Midgar suddenly paled in relativity to the adventure awaiting before you. Final Fantasy 7 was the first game I played that felt like it would never end.
And in a way, it never did.
Over the years I’d replay it, sticking with different characters or trying to beat the optional end-game bosses. After deciding who most resembled each of the main heroes, I’d rename the party members after my circle of friends, unsuccessfully assuring my sister it was just a coincidence that Tifa took the name of the girl next door I had a crush on. I would spend hours leveling up Cloud and Barret in the first area till I had their penultimate Limit Breaks. I killed the Midgar Zolom and learned the Enemy-Skill “Beta” before reaching Junon. I farmed Elixers using the W-Item glitch to use on the Magic Pot enemies and reached level 99. And it didn’t end when I put down the controller; in college, I started playing Ukulele and tried to learn a few riffs from the soundtrack. The piano version of the main theme is one of my favorite songs and I still occasionally listen to the entire collection if I need to concentrate. I’ve made friends after bringing up a game so quintessentially nerdy as Final Fantasy 7 to a group of people.
Final Fantasy 7 was the catalyst for my dedication and passion for the medium itself.
The term “hardcore gamer” has always been a revolving door of definitions, but I can proudly place myself among that group, as Final Fantasy 7 was the catalyst for my dedication and passion for the medium itself. As much as I loved Super Mario Bros, or Crash Team Racing, it instilled that video games could be more than jumping on turtles or shooting your brother with a rocket. I can safely say that I wouldn’t have moved on to titles like Mass Effect, Kingdom Hearts, The Last of Us, Firewatch, or The Witcher 3 if Final Fantasy 7 hadn’t convinced me that video games had the potential to take you somewhere.
On one hand, sometimes it felt strange to put so many hours into a single video game. On the other, imagine what I felt when i discovered someone had beaten Final Fantasy 7 in under eight. Despite the feeling that came with graduating college, only to find myself in multiple unpaid internships, nothing in my life has been as humbling as watching a streamer on Twitch speedrun Final Fantasy 7 for the first time. I was mesmerized, and after watching enough of his runs, I moved on to watching other games. Super Mario Sunshine 120 Stars runs. Halo: Combat Evolved legendary difficulty runs. Resident Evil 4 knife only runs. Now events like Awesome Games Done Quick and Summer Games Done Quick are two of my favorite weeks out of the year and I always decide to carve some time out of my schedule to watch. I owe that interest, once again, to Final Fantasy 7.
In 2009, I bought a PlayStation 3 along with a single copy of Uncharted 2: Among Thieves. I justified it by telling myself that surely, Kingdom Hearts III and the long-anticipated remake of Final Fantasy 7 would be out by the end of the console’s lifespan. Infamously, that didn’t happen. Some people cry during movies or while reading a book. Some people shed a tear hearing their favorite songs at a concert. There are times in life when you can choose how to react to something, and sometimes you can’t. I didn’t choose to well up a bit when the remake was finally announced at E3 2015, alone in my room watching a livestream, but after taking into consideration just how much this game has affected my life, I decided I wouldn’t be ashamed about it.
A lot will be different about the remake. A lot will be the same. There will be changes I vehemently condemn, and others I never knew it needed. What will the Honey Bee Inn look like today? What will Barret’s… “animated” vocabulary sound like with full voice acting? Will gamers who grew up with waypoints and objective markers tolerate expecting you to randomly stumble across a comatose Cloud in Mideel? What about a talking Cat who attacks with a Megaphone? It’s inevitable that in order to fit in with the storytelling and gameplay mechanics set by not only modern RPGS, but the gaming industry as a whole, the remake will lose some of the charm that made it so special.
I still have my original 20 year old copy of Final Fantasy 7 on my desk at work. Its case is cracked, the discs are scratched, and the manual is missing. The coloring on the cover is starting to fade, and it feels like it could fall apart at any moment. It’s still one of my most valued possessions. A reminder of all the little ways it has and will continue to shape my life. A reminder that I belong to an exclusive club with millions of others who were lucky enough to experience a genre-defining classic. A reminder that no matter how divisive the remake turns out to be, Final Fantasy 7 as it was will always be there to take me back to a time when a whole world was in front of me. A time when all I had to do was hit “O” instead of “X”.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire