Programming Note: This blog was written around October 2012, hence the Rush concert reference. This one veers a bit further from gaming than the last, and there will most likely be a supplemental post later on in the series. I didn't even get to the touch on the music!
2.
Though Final Fantasy II on SNES is one of my favorite games of all time, it has been a considerable amount of time since I played it on its system of origin. Because of its near constant re-releases, as well as the unfortunate existence of The After Years (I will touch on this much later in this series), I haven't had reason to return to the good ol' Super Nintendo version. I've certainly played the Game Boy Advance release more recently, as well as the DS version.
For what it's worth, I consider the Game Boy Advance release of Final Fantasy II to be the definitive version of the game; however, the DS version is worth exploring on its own merits, despite some gripes I have with the End Game and New Game Plus features (such as they are). Both are released under the originally correct "Final Fantasy IV" title.
Play these instead
If you are new to the saga of Final Fantasy II on SNES, and confused by all this numbering chicanery, a brief history: By the time Square got around to attempting a localization of the original Final Fantasy II and III (on Famicom), Super Nintendo was slated for release in the States. Rather than spend the money and marketing on localizing old games, they put their eggs in the SNES' basket, and went right on ahead with localizing what-was-then Final Fantasy IV (on Super Famicom). Fearing that Final Fantasy IV was far too difficult for foolish Americans, Square gimped a considerable amount of the game (e.g. Almost all characters had secondary abilities removed, such as "Pray", "Dark", "Cry", etc; the cost of certain items was cut considerably [ a "Heal" potion performed the same function as "Remedy" in later games, healing every status ailment, but costing pennies for the pleasure ], many enemies had abilities removed and HP lowered, status ailments were significantly gimped, the list goes on...) and rechristened the game "Final Fantasy II", so as not to confuse us poor folks in this hemisphere. The GBA release fixes all these issues, and is thus, considerably more difficult.
As such, I was wholly unprepared for how utterly easy and ridiculous the SNES version would be for me. It's not exaggeration to say that, with a modicum of RPG experience, one could waltz through the game without a concern for any enemy whatsoever. I made this helpful chart:
Bosses I originally thought were difficult |
Bosses which were actually difficult |
Baigan |
|
Dark Elf (Second Form) |
|
The Magus Sisters |
|
Valvalis |
|
Calcobrena |
|
Dr. Lugae (Final Form) |
|
Asura |
|
Leviathan |
|
Demon Wall |
|
Odin |
|
Bahamut |
|
The Defense System of the Giant of Babel |
|
Wyvern |
|
Ogopogo |
|
Zeromus |
|
You see, when I was young, I had the dubious pleasure of receiving a Game Genie for SNES. Though my mom never capitulated on the Game Genie for NES, I finally acquired one for SNES (I had to stop biting my nails for one month; no problem. I began gnawing away on the way home from Toys R Us ;)), and it became my go-to way of beating games. This is ironic for many reasons, but primarily because I *am* a gamer. I grew up a gamer. I was weened on Punch Out!! and Final Fantasy NES; I didn't need no stinking Game Genie. But I allowed my innate anxiety and fear of failure to run me, and I gimped a large part of my gaming experience because of it.
"VIDEO GAME ENHANCER" my ass...
And so, though Final Fantasy II was one of my favorite games to play, I spent the first... say, 4 - 5 years? of my playtime with it, with infinite hit points, infinite magic points, and infinite gold. Not much of a game, eh?
One of the funny quirks of the Game Genie codes was that, though the code said "Infinite Hit Points", in actuality, you could be killed. If an enemy hit you for more hit points than your character had (e.g. if Cecil had 550 hit points and he was hit for 700), your character would die. But here's the kicker: the enemies worked the same way too. Though I didn't realize it at the time, the Game Genie froze the algorithm for hit points period; it did not make you invincible.
I used to drive myself to madness trying to beat one Gargoyle in the Fabul Castle sequence. "HOW MANY HIT POINTS DOES THIS GUY HAVE!?" I remember I finally realized if you hit him with the Charm harp, he casts Weak on himself, and you can pop him off with any old hit. Good times...
Of course, you have to beat bosses, so you had to shut the Game Genie off to hurt them. These were always moments filled with dread: "My safety net is gone! Ahhhhhh!"
I don't remember when or why I gave up the Game Genie, but I remember that feeling. I'm playing the real game now. This is the real McCoy. It wasn't for Final Fantasy II, of that I'm sure. But suddenly, there was this liberation. I didn't have to read some silly book to find the optimum selection of codes. I didn't have to input those stupid numbers and letters with a sword. I didn't have to sweat switching the Game Genie on and off, and the inevitable slip up that would freeze the game into the abyss. I began to look upon the Game Genie with scorn. Why did I even want it, really?
In many ways, my decision to relinquish the safety net of the Game Genie has defined my life. Bombastic? Exaggerated? Perhaps. But truly, and even more truly now that the internet is an inextricable part of our lives, to be separated from an experience is to be dulled to its impact.
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Last month, I had the pleasure of attending a Rush concert with some good friends, and I was utterly struck by the amount of people filming the concert with their phones. Who are these people!? Who buys a (expensive!) ticket to a concert, to see a musician do their best in a live setting, and then places a buffer zone between them and what's going on? Are these people returning home and immediately downloading their songs to their computers or to YouTube? Are they watching them on their iPhones as they ride home? What's to gain? Why not just have, you know, the memory? If all you want is a recording of the experience, why not spend 9.99 and stay home on your couch? You could eat nachos that don't cost 20 dollars. You could drink beer that's 10 dollars for a six pack instead of 10 dollars for a can.
Get off my lawn! Or: how I felt at the Rush concert.
If there's one thing I can say about the times in my life that will remain with me until the day I die, it's that I don't remember a single computer, phone, video, email, whatever-the-fuck in them.
Now, I don't mean to cast aspersions on the internet. The internet is a paradigm-shifting invention; it is as interwoven into our lives now as the air we breathe. To command the world at your fingertips is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. And yet, do we really stop to think about it? I'm an unusually reflective homosapien, and even I take for granted that I can read Wikipedia while I'm taking a shit (often even about taking a shit!). I take it for granted that I can know exactly how my antibiotic works, which folio Shakespeare published first, or what sword Rubicant is weak to (you'd have to be borderline comatose to miss that one, but I had to tie it back). But at what cost? Louis CK once said that "a nice day is shit to today's children". There must be some expense. What price are we willing to pay? Have we already paid it? Would we even know if the bill had been collected, without a (short!) piece of snarky writing to back it up, or a rant on YouTube?
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And so, we return to the experience of Final Fantasy II without a Game Genie. Frankly, I was on autopilot. I know where every treasure is, I know what the best equipment is for each character at each point of the game, and I know the cheesy dialogue before it appears on the screen. What's left?
I was left with myself. Just me, sitting alone on a couch, playing a video game I've played so many times, I have it committed to DNA. And yet, even with the utmost familiarity, the music tugged at something inside me... The deep colors of the sprites popped off the backgrounds; the party and the monsters alike evoking and ... Are we talking about Final Fantasy NES? We could be talking about any of them...
And so, I played Final Fantasy II for an hour or two, and then I started a conversation with my wife. I'd play Final Fantasy II, and I would go to the store and return home and bake something. I took my dog for a walk, and I played with my cat. The game was time without purpose. But isn't that what gaming is really about? Purposeful achievement of small scale objectives eventually culminating in the achievement of a long term objective that, in the grand scheme, is about my own entertainment? I'm not so sure anymore...
I think, deep down, gaming is a point of reset. It's a time I can turn myself off, but without the slack-jawed complacency of dull television. It pulls a little bit of nostalgia, a lot of relaxation, and a very minor sense of achievement into one big whole. But gaming isn't the whole of life, just as your Facebook profile, phone, job, relationship, and video; those small things that allow you to shrink the world into one point of focus; they're not your life either.
So was Final Fantasy II easy? In one sense... In another, it made me question my entire identity...
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