Editor’s note: the discussion of ‘Final Fantasy IX’ starts at paragraph 7.
I was recently talking to friends and family about my favorite aspect of Disney World as a child. When I thought about it, I realized it was the immersion—when you’re there, everything is Disney. The TV channels in your hotel room, the characters in the restaurants, the parks. It is a total experience.
Prima Vista concept art by Yoshitaka Amano. Image via Video Games Artwork.
I enjoyed imagination when I was a child as most children do. I recall one recess in elementary school, where we had to play in the parking lot and a small field. I pretended that I was Johnny Quest and the big tree was an elevator to a different realm. I don’t have siblings, so much of my early days of finding fun were taking things in my room or surroundings and imagining worlds with them. Action figures, of course. I realize that this is not unique to me, as every child has that wonder. I was lucky to make friends in my neighborhood and at school to connect with.
These Disney conversations reminded me about ideas I had about some of my other childhood interests: Power Rangers or Batman as my earliest, professional wrestling until my early teens, and movies, stories, music, and video games throughout. The connection among these is the ability for total immersion. Take professional wrestling—during the “Attitude Era,” so there is some vulgarity in retrospect—there were action figures, story lines on television, games, merchandise, magazines, even airport paperbacks. I was a top-to-bottom consumer, through and through. I think about whatever I’m into all the time, when I’m into it. I want to live in its world. I remember getting a Power Rangers CD-ROM somehow—before we had a computer!—and wanting nothing more then to play it.
This propensity to let something consume me does cause me some trepidation. Interests would stop short of coming at the expense of other pursuits or obligations, but I have often felt a desire to quell my own escapism. Even getting into a good book or show can spur this. This reasoning is why I avoid video games as an adult, for instance. It is a personal choice to ground myself in things where I can feel a real-world progression, at least for my own measure, and not to get lost somewhere else, even at the expense of some fun and creativity.
I do tap into this tendency, though, and try to grab something tangible. My experience watching The Sopranos last decade led to aesthetic and career pursuits that still affect me today. In college, I spent a lot of time reading history in the library for my course work and this study led to intellectual development. I find and photograph locations from my favorite movies and shows. Perhaps these are adult manifestations of the same childhood imagination.
The line between being in your head and having your feet on the ground is tricky. Yet I’m concluding that escapism—in controlled doses, perhaps—has its merits, if it leads us to channel inspiration into our own expression. There is value in things that gives us meaning. And, as I have matured with age, I feel that I can balance the imagined and the real with more tact.
This reflection leads me to Final Fantasy, specifically IX. I played through VII, VIII, IX, and X growing up, but IX was the first one that I completed—I had tried VII before and came back to it later—and loved. The game sparked wonder for me.
My mom bought me the game at when I was 10 years old. It was sometime in the winter or early spring of 2000-2001. I remember going to the Pavilion mall on a Friday evening after dark. Toys-R-Us was on the second floor—the third floor had the business where I would work throughout high school and beyond. They demolished the building a few years ago. Last I saw, the area is still a construction site filled with dirt. They were yet to break ground on a new building there.
Image via Google.
I am not sure why I wanted the game. I may have seen a commercial. Toys-R-Us had a video game section that I believe was a new addition then. PlayStation games had cases like a music CD. Final Fantasy IX (“FF9”) had 4 discs, so the case was much thicker.
After getting home, I remember going upstairs to play it. I loaded the disc to find an introduction with fantastical ships and maps.
Final Fantasy has cutscenes, like other games, that are animated scenes (to watch) that have much better graphics than the regular gameplay. FF9 had an opening scene that captivated me. I remember starting the game, then running downstairs to ask my mom to come watch it with me because I found it enthralling. I knew was in for something special and this glimpse into the world of the game resonated with me.
The game colors my memory of the rest of that year until the summer of 2001. I remember that first night playing, as the main characters start to meet each other in Alexandria. Maybe the next day or the following Saturday, I remember the characters arriving at the forest before I went into New York City to watch a Tom Sawyer play. I remember going to a neighborhood party one Saturday afternoon, after arriving at the characters city of Lindblum with airships and layered streets. I remember the village of Dali and its music. I got stuck, I think at the end of disc 1, on the boss Beatrix, so I restarted the game, and before entering that level, spent hours “training” on the World Map and “healing” my characters at the spring near Gizamaluke's Grotto—what a name. I believe at this point I had the walkthrough book, which in addition to helping me progress through the game, would fill me with marvel as I browsed future levels. As the weather got nicer, I remember biking the Bronx River Parkway one Bicycle Sunday with family friends—the county closes the parkway down to cars—and most of the ride I was thinking about the story of FF9.
That fall, I would change schools to start 6th grade, leaving parochial school and my neighborhood friends. In the summer, one of my friends at day camp had finished the game and was championing my near completion. The final boss was tough and took me a number of tries. I remember coming home from camp one day and finally beating the game as the sun began to glow in that way that occurs in the hours preceding summer sunset.
At my new school in the fall, I was able to get the word “marsh” on a vocabulary test, thanks to recalling Qu's Marsh from the game. I told this to one of my classmates after the quiz, and we became friends and played subsequent games together. I enjoyed other Final Fantasy games, but IX remains a special memory.
Two things in particular stuck with me: the artwork and the music. I got book of FF9’s artwork and the CD soundtrack. Conceptual sketches and iterative designs for locations and characters were fascinating. In music class in 9th grade, we had to bring in a piece of music that we enjoyed. I was tempted to bring in a hip-hop song, but I ended up sharing “The Place I’ll Return to Someday,” the title theme from FF9’s soundtrack. My teacher enjoyed the song.
FF9 was one of my early realizations of craft: there was a team of dedicated artists behind every facet of the game. Like Disney Imagineers, it was a group of people coming together to create something larger than life, transcending our daily experience. These artists achieved the creation of an enriching work that imprints a lifelong feeling, ever-present even if you forget its source. Whether it would be in music, film, or some other art, I knew this idea was something that spoke to me. World-building was something that I wanted to take part in.
The Prima Vista in Alexandria. Image via Final Fantasy Wiki.
A theme in Final Fantasy IX is memory and finding your own identity. I have found that mapping the through lines from your childhood inclinations is an aid to the challenge of finding your way in the adult world. This task is difficult, especially given that we all have to make a living, but worthwhile, and for me, the best way to find move toward fulfillment in your work and life.
The book Final Fantasy: Ultimata Archive, which I purchased a few years ago, highlights the artwork of VII, VIII, and IX. If you played the games when you were younger, it will bring back that joy. If you didn’t, exploring the full realization of three different worlds that moved millions of people, from to idea to execution, can make for an insightful study. Toshiyuki Itahana, a character designer for FF9, recalls a colleague saying that “there is a magic in Final Fantasy that stays with you to the very end.” Itahana reflects, “the image that set off the explosion of creativity…was that of the theater ship Prima Vista, set against the kingdom of Alexandria steeped in twilight. What kind of people lived in this city?…What sort of adventure will there be?”
- GJF
“The Place I’ll Return to Someday.” Nobuo Uematsu composed the music for FF games. Hideo Minaba was the art director for FF9.