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Pursuing My Final Fantasy by ~calivinguy:iconcalivinguy:

Categories Literature > Prose > Fiction > General Fiction


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Pursuing Our Final Fantasy

         The mountain stained my hand.  Whatever didn't leave a lasting mark fell down over my shoulder.  I sneezed as my wife allowed some dust from her blistered fingers to caress my cheek and nest in my hair.
         “Are we almost there?”
         “Considering we have no clue where we're going, probably not.”
         I sighed, realizing she spoke true.  Scaling one of the taller of the peaks in Tibet gave us both stories to tell.  But we were not up here for fame or fortune.  We wanted answers.  Answers only they could give us.
         “Honey, are you getting tired?”
         She replied, “A little bit.  But we're nearing a crag, and I think it might be deep enough to sleep in.”
         “It'll have to do.”
         This was our third day on the mountain, and the sun was already moving toward the horizon.  We weren't making much headway, as neither of us had ever been an expert in mountain climbing.  In all honesty, neither she nor I had thought that our travels to find the greatest geniuses of our time would continue onto plains far above sea level.  Climbing with her, I'm reminded of her ingenuity at the bath houses in Japan, just across the sea.  We had interrupted some very important people discussing very important things, yet she wasn't thrown out of whack.  Even as several buck naked senior citizens made cat calls and demanded “special attention”, she glared and said not a word as I did the speaking.  She knew enough of other cultures to do that.
         “We're looking for these men...”
         And I announced their names.  All in attention fell silent.  Cat calls ceased.  Women dropped towels.  I suppose this was a sign of things to come.  Of the danger we were in.  But we had the information we needed.  Head west.  Look for a monastery.  “And”, they added before releasing goons upon us, “If you're serious about finding them, you'll know when you're there.  That is, if you make it out of Japan.”
         We did.  Along with being names that cause panic and pause, they were also very ill met.  Or at least, anyone who seek them were.
         “I'm almost there.”
         “When you do, anchor to the side instead of the bottom.  I'm going to attempt another scouting.”
         “Dear, don't.  You'll wear yourself out.”
         “I won't do it again for a couple days, I promise.  But I need to see if we'll reach tomorrow or if a few more days are necessary.”
         “You're not gonna see the monastery by scouting.”
         “It's worth a try.”
         She sighed and did as she was told.  Another very compelling quality to her perfectness.
         It was time to do my trick.  I pushed off from the rock, gently, and began to rock side to side.  As I picked up momentum, I swung a bit as well.  And before I knew it, I had swung right out and off from the rock face, reaching at least ten feet out from the cliff.  Getting off was never the hard part.  It was avoiding the smashing that could potentially occur that really took the most effort.  But unlike the last few times, this one may have paid off.  I glanced up and before I could return to horizontal level to guard myself from impact, I saw the reflection of the setting sun off some object far above me.  It was still a day or two's travel vertical.  But it gave me hope.  And when I told my wife, it would give her hope too.

         The morning came and went as all the others.  In the morning, we woke wet from dew (and God knew what else).  We cooked some breakfast from our backpacks and complained that our food was nearly depleted.  We took a look down at where our rental car had been when we parked.  Neither of us hoped to recover it.  Just another justifiable reason to get rental insurance.  We had left no valuables in the car, though a few at the hotel, where we'd rented by the day and allowed them to charge our credit card until we checked out.  We had no idea the time we'd need.  Good thing I'd made so much on my novels.  Very good thing.
         The trip was trickier, as footholds became a rarity and tiny plants jutted out of the rock, promising our anchors would be pulled out at the slightest pressure change.  Yet we adventured on, sweat on our brows and pain in our sides.  We weren't overweight, exactly, but she and I admitted only to each other that our health could be better.  Needless to say, another break was needed just after noon.  It was a hot day, hotter than the previous, as we found yet another jutting rock to relax and eat upon.  I could see that within another day, we'd be at another mountain top.  I only hoped it was the last we'd ever see.  I was not disappointed.

         Even before we reached the top, around mid morning on the next day, a sign was given to my weary wife and I.  Our faithful travels were mocked and validated as a helicopter passed by us on the way to ... wherever.  We lost sight of it as it reached the top of the mountain, and the sounds simply died perhaps minutes later.  Yes, it was there.  I climbed with a new vigor, and I reached just to my life partner's body, as she pulled herself up and onto the top.  I followed suit, and we both just lay there, breathing heavy.  We didn't hear unloading from the helicopter, nor did we see any men enter the monastery with goods.  In fact, by the time we had stood and surveyed the breathtaking sight, the land before us was empty.  Well, not precisely.  There was a giant building, a heli-pad, and a helicopter in plain sight.  But of people, there was none.  She glanced at me, without words to say and pointed.  I nodded.  She spoke first.
         “You know...”
         “Yes.  I know.”
         “It's an exact... replica.”
         “Probably not inside.  And the original didn't have a heli-pad.”
         “But it is the...”
         “Yes.  The Mako reactor.”

         We entered into a quaint rectory type greeting hall, where a few men with shaved heads and others without smiled at us.  Not surprised at all to find two people they'd never seen before here.  Nor the fact that we were dressed for mountain climbing.  Soon, they would also find our gear.  What should they make of us?  I had no idea.  But what they made of us was a bit disconcerting.  No, scratch that.  Very disconcerting.
         “Welcome!” came a voice from a room beyond.  We glanced that way and saw a man in very old and perhaps traditional garb.  The robe reached down to his feet, just allowing brief glances at sandals.
         “We certainly feel that way,” I started but stopped.  “Did you know we were coming?”
         “You, particularly?  Perhaps.  One's like you?  Always.”
         “One's like us?  I don't understand.”
         “You've played the game.  Of course you understand.”
         “People are drawn here?  Like in the game?”
         “Yes.  You may not be clones, precisely, but your will to see us is more or less parallel.”
         “Us?” she spoke at last.
         Two more men appeared, wearing the same outfits and donning the same friendly smile.  We had found them.

         At coffee later, we discussed with them their inspiration.  “You three created the world's greatest video game!”
         They blushed a bit, perhaps having heard this countless times but nonetheless never being able to cope with the embarrassment of such hero worship.  Our host, the first one we had met (and obviously the leader of the three) smiled and replied, “Yes, well, it was not all our doing.  We had help from above.”
         Our eyes went wide, and the blush fell from the other two.  They smiled coyly, as if relishing in the look they always receive at this information.
         “See, about two decades ago, we were assigned by the company Squaresoft, to make a game in the fashion of the Final Fantasy series which had been on Nintendo for the Playstation.  Apparently, Nintendo had pulled the plug on Sony's CD drive as an extra accessory for their 64 console.  So Sony created their own gaming system and hoped to copy Nintendo's games and take some money away as revenge.  Interestingly enough, Squaresoft, who obtained rights to Final Fantasy jumped on board and the game in the likeness of Final Fantasy became Final Fantasy 7.  We were putting together some plot ideas, while working with the graphics designers and combat engineers.  But nothing we could conceive of was satisfying.  In fact, the plot was written two days before work on the game really began.  And it would only be right to have Tsen Likpa tell the story.”
         “Well,” one of the other's began, “we were behind on our deadline, as you can probably imagine.  And we were getting extremely desperate.  So we called out to God.  Being in Japan, we were influenced by the Tao-ist religion.  Except for Tsen Tuwo.  He's been a hardcore Buddhist, even from the beginning.”
         “Don't think I'm not still irked about being Tsen Tuwo.”
         They ignored him.  But before Tsen Likpa could continue, my lover inquired, “Why'd you change your names?”
         All three men stopped, surprised.  “We'll get to that in a moment,” our host finally retorted.
         They turned to each other and started whispering.  I could hear a few words but would feel foolish for prying as everything they whispered was revealed a moment later.
         “God answered, obviously.  But it wasn't the God of Tao-ism.  In a sense, it wasn't even the god of Buddhism, as they really have no god...”
         Tsen Tuwo snorted at Tsen Likpa, but the latter ignored it.
         “And the game was created.  From mako to the truth of all of creation, Cloud's journey was inspired fully and completely from heaven.  Which is why I was so surprised that people enjoyed it, and when Squaresoft actually made it.  We thought it'd be torn apart because of its religion.  But most people didn't see what you or I saw.  They thought it was entertaining, part of the storyline.  But it was really a map.  A map to the truth of all of existence.”
         “I can... I can feel the reality in that.”
         “And with it came lots of money and more projects for us to write.  We made several other games, including Legend of Dragoon and all the other Final Fantasy games up to number ten.  But by then, we were already realizing the truth.”
         “What?  That those other games suck?”
         Our host smiled and replied, “Yes.”
         “Tsen Trei, why don't you finish up the story?”
         It came to me, now.  Tsen was all of their first names because they were now one in their spiritual reality.  But I shrugged it away, waiting for one of the Tsen's to say it for themselves.
         “As you've stated, the other games we did were just not as good.  There were some good concepts behind them, in terms of graphics and game play.  But unlike Final Fantasy 7, they simply didn't entrap the player into the game's cleverly woven character based story.  And the answer for this is simple.  They didn't have the correct religious tone in them.  The movie, Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within had the tone of the original game in some parts of it, but they based it off the game and not off the inspiration that we had been given.  We took the money we'd earned from all our games and began this monastery.  Everyone you'll see here have been recruited because they felt the call of the game.
         My wife's eyes widened.
         “Are you asking us to lose our faith because of a video game?”
         “It's not about losing your own faith,” Tsen Trei replied, glossy-eyed.  “It's about finding a part of your faith that has been missing.”
         Tsen Tuwo stepped forward.  “I'm still a Buddhist.  And the other two are still Tao-ists.  And yet, we're brothers.  This isn't something that nullifies your ... “
         “Christianity,” I responded, as if in a trance.
         “It empowers it.  In your case, the God of the Hebrews placed this earth in its orbit and filled it with a spiritual energy which powers the planet, trees, and us.  Our physical bodies, the bodies of animals, and everything else on this planet is based on this spiritual energy.  By extracting oil, by polluting the planet, by killing frivolously, we're depriving ourselves and future generations of this energy.  And eventually, when it is depleted, the planet and all of us will die.
         “Our video game was a warning to all humanity.  It was a cultural and religious commentary hidden in mass media and entertainment.  We must do what we can to protect the planet.”
         “What do you do?”
         “We do nothing.  The game brings us people who give us money to fund our monastery.  We put whatever is left into Green Peace, activist movements, and whomever else works in the name of restoration of nature and peace.”
         “So you want our money?” my skeptical wife responded.
         “We need your money.  Our cash is again running low.”
         “You have a helicopter!”
         “Not by choice.  You've seen the mountain peak.  The helicopter is the only way up or down.  Well, except for taking the devastating climb, which you two can attest to its difficulty.”
         We nodded.
         “And to bring goods, medicine, seeds, and new followers that are not insane enough to attempt the climb, a helicopter is more than necessary.  It's also quite costly and one thing that we've debated its usefulness again and again.  Unfortunately, we chose a remote part of a mountain.”
         “Um...”
         “All right, Tsen Likpa.  We didn't exactly choose this place.”
         Tsen Trei turned to us.  “We were led here by the same thing that created the game.  It's the same sublime feeling that helped create the monastery's look, which I'm sure you're aware of.”
         We nod.
         “We know now that something, whether it be your god or Tsen Tuwu's god, or any other god, has been recruiting heroes, real heroes to save our planet.  To save earth.  And that is why you are here now.  You've made a lot of money writing novels and short stories based on the Final Fantasy world.  We allowed you to do so, unchallenged.  We knew that one day your talent would assist us in ways we've been searching for.  We need someone to stay in the real world and make money through their natural talent.  I believe you are that person, Brandon.”
         Again, the love of my life interjected (and although I admire the clear thinking she often exhibits, part of me wished she would just shut up and listen to what they had to say).
         “And what if we don't want to join your group?”
         Bold.
         “Then you're free to leave, of course.  We'll even give you a ride back down with the helicopter.  We only ask that you point anyone seeking us in the right direction, as you yourself were pointed.”
         “But,” Tsen Trei continued after a pause, “I'm seeing that your husband might not be on the same page as you.”
         She looked at me.  My eyes were wide, and a tear stained my cheek.
         “Honey?” she inquired, concerned.  “Are you okay?”
         “It's just... this is what I've wanted for so long.  Ever since I beat the game for the first time in eleventh grade, I've been unfulfilled with all that life has had to offer me.  I knew, from playing that game, that there had to be some greater adventure than the life of a teacher.  Or even a writer.”
         “But they're asking you to do your normal life.  They just want your money too.”
         Tsen Tuwo stood forward and prepared to speak, but Tsen Trei held him back.  He knew to pick his battles.
         “This is a chance to do something great, baby.  Can't you see that?  We traveled across the world, braved everything on our way here, and you think that this is the end of our adventure?  You think I can just return to my mundane life without at least hearing out these men and their plans?”
         “I'm sorry our life is so mundane.”
         “You know what I mean.  You played it too.”
         “Yes.  But I just wanted to experience it with you.  I didn't care about the magic and armor and swords.  I wanted to see what really drove you.”
         “And now that you know what would drive me, you want me to leave?”
         She knew that no argument would be fitting.  Sighing, she too knew when to pick her battles and had a seat at the table, where food was being brought out for dinner.  
         I sat with her, hand in her hand, and listened as Tsen Trei laid out the extent of their organization to two weary travelers who had finally reached their destination.
         And were ready for the next adventure.

                                                        Please Insert Disc 2
©2005-2008 ~calivinguy
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Submitted: January 29, 2005
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Author's Comments

Written by me. A few issues in here, that I'll answer if the questions arise (I'm aware that I'm usually unwilling to answer questions on my prose, but this one may need some explaining). Otherwise... enjoy.

Screenshot: A picture that came with Windows but edited like mad by me.

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~sexsikitt3n:iconsexsikitt3n: Jan 29, 2005, 5:03:51 AM
Bastard!!

Insert Disc 2 my ass!!!!

--
*~:shamrock:~*Sweet2213*~:shamrock:~*

"Nobody figured that maybe-just maybe-rock's savior would be HANSON."-Details Magazine 2004
~zuzi:iconzuzi: Jan 29, 2005, 11:34:36 AM
I want you to know, I signed on just so I could comment on this. 1) you are a total hippy. just so you know. TOTAL hippy. 2) FFVII wasn't the best, though it is good, I liked VIII and X better, though I haven't played IX so who knows, I might like it best of all, VII pissed me off cause it killed my favorite character, bastard Sephiroth 3) I love the ending... the gamers neverending quest to insert the next disc. or something. nevertheless I was completely amused.

~Zu

--
Do I really want your pant vacuum on my fingers? :plotting:

:boing: ~thzinc rocks my socks man :boing:

A Proud member of ~ayunenzuzi, the writing team that brings you NAFT! :wow:
`triptychr:icontriptychr: Jan 29, 2005, 12:31:03 PM
Legend of Dragoon was made by Sony itself, which everyone knows is a soulless monolith bent on world destruction. The yin to the yang, you might say.

And actually, if I may disagree, I thought Final Fantasy: Spirtis Within actually tried focusing too much on a religious aspect instead of the game itself.

I can't feel the same sort of power toward the Final Fantasy series as you do, but this was still a very interesting piece.

--
If you follow your dreams, won't they always remain a step ahead of you?
~calivinguy:iconcalivinguy: Jan 30, 2005, 3:20:01 AM
Ah, but I never specifically stated that these men worked exclusively for Squaresoft. They may not have actually done all the games I mentioned, but they were only writers, not companies. Plenty of video games are written by the same people.

I see your point and raise you an eyebrow. :eye:

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This is the part where I impress you!

...

Please visit me :(
~calivinguy:iconcalivinguy: Jan 30, 2005, 3:25:28 AM
I suppose I could agree with you about VIII being better.

That is, if I ignore things like storyline, character development, and gameplay.

--
This is the part where I impress you!

...

Please visit me :(
~calivinguy:iconcalivinguy: Jan 30, 2005, 3:26:44 AM
I would, but that might hurt you a bit.

--
This is the part where I impress you!

...

Please visit me :(
~zuzi:iconzuzi: Jan 30, 2005, 1:25:30 PM
Well, everyone disagrees on which game is better. The fact remains though, that you are infact, a hippy. You hippy.

~Zu

--
Do I really want your pant vacuum on my fingers? :plotting:

:boing: ~thzinc rocks my socks man :boing:

A Proud member of ~ayunenzuzi, the writing team that brings you NAFT! :wow:
~sexsikitt3n:iconsexsikitt3n: Jan 30, 2005, 3:01:13 PM
I knew you would say something like that.

--
*~:shamrock:~*Sweet2213*~:shamrock:~*

"Nobody figured that maybe-just maybe-rock's savior would be HANSON."-Details Magazine 2004
~calivinguy:iconcalivinguy: Jan 31, 2005, 8:50:18 PM
You think that's evidence of my "hippyhood", you should see this.

--
This is the part where I impress you!

...

Please visit me :(
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