Worldly Weekend: Final Fantasy II (NES/Famicom)

Not even one game later, and we've already arrived at Final Fantasy's infamous identity crisis. The game we are reviewing today is not the Final Fantasy II hailed as a SNES classic, but the Famicom's Final Fantasy II that released in 1988, never left Japan's shores, and is often cited as one of those experimental black sheep sequels that plagued the NES. For the moment, let us put aside the fact Western fans wouldn't experience the same frustration bestowed by Zelda II and Castlevania II until roughly a decade's time, and hone in on a more well-known source of frustration -- that, of course, being the name discrepancies exchanged among the first six Final Fantasys. With three Final Fantasy games -- Final Fantasy II, Final Fantasy III, and Final Fantasy V -- skipped over at release, Square had no choice but to dub their Western localizations of Final Fantasy IV and Final Fantasy VI as Final Fantasy II and III, respectively.

Needless to say, what resulted was an endless source of confusion regarding Square's retconning as they made their Western debuts via PlayStation, Game Boy Advance and DS incarnations, be they altered ports or elaborate remakes. And yet, in the case of Final Fantasy II, I cannot help but feel this was the correct decision: whereas Final Fantasy IV is a series masterpiece, II is certainly its retro nadir, filled with antagonistic design decisions that smother any goodwill it sought to bring. While hardly the worst JRPG, said decisions render it a slog of mediocrity as opposed to the prestigious, glorified adventure established from the very first game.

A Lesson in Patience

Wh..what is that?

It couldn't possibly be..!

It is! My very own Famicom. Wow.

Easily my most expensive purchase at Otakon (about $99, plus tax), obtaining the Japanese NES has been a goal of mine for a while. As an aspiring Nintendo archivist, it's a dream of mine to obtain every piece of Nintendo hardware and software out there, and what better place to start than the original home console that started it all? Having studied Japanese over the past year, I was also eager to put my studies to the test.

Alas, but I've already hit a snag. While the Otakon vendor was kind enough to include the required power adapter/AV cable, I'd forgotten the Famicom requires certain channel frequencies to display the game on American televisions...all of which aren't available on the only CRT in the house! Agh!

To make matters worse...well, take a look below.

What? Is that a crack?!? And is the red casing loose? Was I sold a faulty Famicom?!? Bring me the one responsible, now!

...actually, I'm pretty sure it was an accident on my part. While carrying it around in a bag at the convention, the console's weight was too much and it ripped through, slamming onto the floor with a loud CLACK! Naturally, I was scared, but a quick inspection showed nothing wrong...so I shoved it in my backpack.

"Well, why didn't you put it in your backpack in the first place," you may ask. Well, a while back I learned that filling backpacks with game cases isn't a swell idea, as they get punctured with holes and the like, so I guess that fear spread to any and all valuable game merch. Anyway, it wasn't until I got home that I noticed the crack, and the casing was actually a lot looser; in fact, you actually see the wires inside. Thankfully, I shifted it around the above plug's casing insert, and it's currently as you see it now.

The question is...does it work? In my inspection and testing, I've noticed the Famicom has two flaws in comparison to the NES, bhe first one being there is no LED light to signal whether it's off or on. I was frequently shifting through channels to see whether or not it'd come on, but due to the lack of an LED, I had no idea whether or not it was actually, well, on.

The other flaw? Well, both of the console's controllers are hooked to the console, meaning you can't replace them. When considering my bad luck, take a closer look at my two controllers and guess which one is Player One.

Why, the scratched-up one with the rough surface, of course! Boy, am I screwed.

Scuffs, scratches and cracks are the shame of any collector, and it seems I'm inexorably drawn to such blemishes. My game cases keep getting punctures, my Nendoroid stands break with little to no hope of replacement, my cats like knocking down my One Piece statues...as I'm clumsy by nature, it weighs heavily on me, and I beat myself up for it constantly.

In regards to the actual games, it's an even tougher subject. It's not like they're making anymore Famicoms, y'know? Forget the possibility of wasted money: a broken Famicom would mean one less functioning legend in the world that someone else could've enjoyed...and yet, don't all physical products break down eventually? Just ask my SNES and N64 cartrdiges: in a phenomenon that, to my surprise, has yet to be cataloged over the internet, they're riddled with graphical glitches from meshed-together 3D polygons to a morphing white square in the corner of Kirby Super Star. If it sounds confusing, I'm honestly just as much at a loss as you are. Regardless, it's a very cynical outlook, especially when considering Nintendo's Virtual Console filters.

It extends outside my hobbies, too. I frequently miss cues to do chores around the house,, I speak too fast when I don't mean to...it's something I can't escape. Just another trait of being an Aspie, I suppose.

I do wonder if it's a sign not to rush into things too fast? Maybe my Japanese just isn't ready yet, and I lack a steady job, so I need to discipline myself and save money. Furthermore, my computer is quite outdated, and I'm starting to lack space for display and archive purposes: as I'm branching out to study books for future writing endeavors, I lack a proper bookcase to store them all in, as well as a table and containers for future statues, Nendoroids. and the like. Should I hold off on that all until I move out into my dream home?

Probably, but I wonder how long I'll be able to hold out. The Otakon vendor I purchased the Famicom from happens to be based in New York City, and I just so happen to be heading down down there this November for my birthday, so maybe they can help me with my Famicom (and provide some more info on hooking it up).

Regardless, what's most important is that I further work on pushing myself forward with my writing and Leave Luck to Heaven's future. If it takes broken products and a lesson in patience to express that, so be it.

Oh, and on a semi-related note: the Detective Conan figure I also purchased got a weird scuff on his hat, too.

why does this keep happening to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Biweekly Music Wednesday! ~No. 30~ Fallin' Love (Mother/EarthBound Beginnings)

Origin: EarthBound Beginnings (Mother)
Plays In: Mt. Itoi Cabin
Status: Original Composition
Composed by: Hirokazu "Hip" Tanaka/Keiichi Suzuki

Over the past several years, I've gradually decided that I want to be a hermit. I'd live in the mountain country home I've always dreamed of, surrounded by trees, fields and mountains that stimulate my inner nostalgia. Walks within forests and alongside mountain roads will be my zen, blue skies and dew-adorned flowers providing endless wonder. It would be a paradise all to my own (barring the company of some cats, naturally).

But why isolate myself? Have my social anxieties and insecurities reached their limit? Is it because I have Asperger's? Sensory issues? Indeed, they're all very likely answers, but I wonder if the more suspicious might believe I'm running away from something; safeguarding myself from a potential trauma, if you will.

In that case, is it because I'm afraid to be hurt by love?

Maybe it's because I realize my dream of young love will never come true.

I have never once dated in my life. After my court jester persona simultaneously ruined my reputation and forced me into seclusion during my grade school years, I never once entertained the idea of dating any of the individuals that helped ruin my social life. Opportunities never sprang in college, either, as I was much too focused in achieving my goals.

Deep down, though, I think I was still wishing for my dream to come true. It was one I secretly cherished for ten years, one centered around an individual I believed understood me more than anyone else. She was the epitome of young love: laughter abound, a never-ending plethora of inside jokes and memories reminisced in warmth, the golden scent of hair, and in possession of the the world's most headspinning smile.

It was an impossible dream, for she never felt the same way. I was just "the friend." But I never stopped dreaming. When I was sailing the high seas of Zelda: The Wind Waker, she and I built a life together on a tropical island. When I was an awkward teenager and endlessly reading video game fanfiction, I'd insert ourselves as the romantic leads. She was my Kairi, my Tetra, my Colette Brunel. Even when I thought I didn't love her, dreams of my mountain abode had her waiting for me at the doorstep.

As they say, however, love is cruel. The dream shattered in a million pieces as we reached twenty, when she began prizing drama and attention above all else. People found themselves being cut out of her life...repeatedly. Being "the friend," I was always the first to get the boot, watching helplessly as the breadth between us grew wider and wider. My own thoughts and feelings become inconsequential, a decade of memories and friendship rendered irrelevant as I soon found myself with nothing but a broken heart and tarnished memories.

It's so easy to say, "I will never fall in love again." It's a mantra I've repeated over the past year and a half, one that has only induced confusion and disbelief from those who've heard it. I do not wish to love because it's so scary to me. For every fairy tale romance that I personally witness, I can cite five more involving closed Facebook accounts, dramatic runaways and abusive relationships. The prospect of investing years into someone else only to end with heartbreak is pointless and far too risky for me.

It's wrong to stereotype, I know, especially after having dealt with the most selfish drama queen on the planet. But when you've invested ten years of unrequited love only to be betrayed not as a romantic partner but as a best friend, it does something to your ego. Any and all conceptions of romance are ruined for you  I do not see the point in any of it. I do not understand why people constantly shut out their friends over ill-fated romantic pursuits, and I do not understand why age-gap relationships are a thing, and I do not understand why some establish cruel hierarchies of power and control to foster distorted notions of love.

It's all incredibly judgmental of me to say, as even the question of "why do people stay in abusive relationships?" often crosses my mind. If my decision to become a hermit hadn't already shown it, such statements prove that even I, too, am selfish. They're born from fear that I'll repeat my mistakes, and anger that things didn't go my way. The maelstrom of insecurities born from Asperger's, sensory issues and previous social encounters gone wrong seem to only cement the deal...

But, say, if I were ever to move on from all that, and I were to love again, who would it be with? Deep down, I already know the answer. It would be with someone who respects me, someone who does not judge me based on my background, but instead understands it and always supports me. Our thoughts and feelings are, respectively, of the utmost importance to each other. 

Such a love would prove that the boons from young love are not exclusive. It'll flutter and waltz with grace and passion, just as when Ana asked Ninten to dance with her. It will not be something I will purposely seek out, but it's a path I'm gradually beginning to accept and possibly open. Maybe sooner than I think.

Final Thoughts: ...is the first time I've ever elaborated on this subject at length on here? It's why experimenting with this column is so fun.