Yes, it is all these things of which a hero is made. And this is why, for the fifth year in a row, Alex Leithead and I will be heroes. Not unlike Terra, Cloud, Zidane and whoever the main guy was in Final Fantasy IV, we will face great adversity and be challenged to the very core, bludgeoned by lack of sleep and gut rot. And every year we will stand triumphant, if bloodied and wearied, knowing that we have made the world a better place for Alex to brag in.
The name of the game is Final Fantasy Race, and the fame of the game is that we choose an installment from the popular Final Fantasy series and play it continuously, TV next to TV, until someone beats it. The pain of the game is that I have only lost.
Sleep is technically allowed, but ONLY if you're me, and only if I want to lose. As such, they are essentially endurance marathons, which test fortitude, gaming-skills and raw, obnoxious persistence. But this year, there's a small twist! In order to upgrade the activity from hobby to sport, Alex and I will be liveblogging throughout, every hour or so, on this blog and this blog. Now our lazy or deformed fans can enjoy all of the action from the comfort of their computer screens.
This year we bring you Final Fantasy XII ("The Finalest Fantasy of Them All"). In it, we expect there to be a plucky young hero with spiked or otherwise unruly hair, wielding an oversized sword, battling to save or protect something to do with crysals, and a villian who possibly has been corrupted by power, or the need for power. How can I make these predictions? I merely speak from four years of expertise on this particular subject, which is my segue into a brief recap:
2003, Final Fantasy VI: That which started it all also happens to be my favourite video game of all time. We were neck in neck for only about the first hour or so, and then, after my embarrassing death outside of Edward's castle (?!), we basically pulled back and forth away from each other. However, after a few too many episodes of my Locke trying to walk through a wall for half hours at a time, Alex decidedly pulled ahead, and although we both entered Kefka's tower nearly simultaneously, only one of us was truly ready for battle. My shortcut technique of grabbing the Moogle Belt early on to avoid fights had clearly backfired. I was promptly maimed by one of the dragons, and fell asleep. Alex 1, Sandy 0.
2004, Final Fantasy VII: This was the longest battle thus far, clocking in at about 37 hours. I had always been rather impartial to this particular game, as, at the time of the game's development, video game systems were in their polygonoidal phase, wherein your character was a fanciful collection of blue polygons who had to do battle with a threatening assortment of red polygons, all amidst the whimsical green polygon forest. Anyway, my distaste for the graphics soon translated into a sheer ineptitude for the game, and I basically straggled through the entire course of it, taking at least one 4o minute "power-nap" which set me devastatingly behind. And yet my weakest showing was still to come... Alex 2, Sandy 0.
2005, Final Fantasy IV: Compared to the last behemoth, this should have been a veritable stroll through pleasure-town. I was back on the SNES where I felt most at home, playing a game that really could only last about 24 hours. Planning was typically poor on my behalf and I think we started playing after I had already worked and been up for 10 hours. My heart just wasn't into it. Anyway, the details are typically sketchy, and I typically packed it in early because I had made plans with someone the next day. Typical. Alex 3, Sandy 0.
2006, Final Fantasy IX: After the sound and round spanking I had received from my competitor last year, I came back re-invigorated and hungry for my first win. The planning and preperations went from 'sketchy' to 'modest', and the level of pumped-osity went from 'not-so-much' to 'Whoo!'. I even had a secret weapon: caffeine pills, to counteract my not-so-secret weakness: constant need for sweet slumber.
This match was held outside in a veranda which certainly helped morale, and amusingly messed with our sense of chronology as we watched the sun set only to see it rise seemingly minutes later.
It was by far the most intense of the competitions, with much hand-wringing and nail-biting... Alex entered the final castle before me, and I felt that all was lost yet again, but upon entering into battle with the final boss, it was HE who was spanked! A surge of energy entered my soul! And then a surge of rationality came to douse the flames. He was nowhere near beating that awful thing, and I was (surprise) slightly weaker. This game was going to last 4 more hours. I, of course, would have whinededly gone to bed were I in his situation, but Alex is made of tougher stuff, and while I blundered on in trying to take my stab at it, he went right back at the villain. Maimed again by a mid-level boss, I pulled my trademark move and gave the hell up to watch him, who, miracle of miracles, was somehow doing far better against the beast this time even though he had not leveled up or gotten any more powerful. My God, ladies and gentlemen, that's Gamesmanship. It was actually with a sense of relief that I saw him take yet another victory. It meant blissful sleep, this time with slightly more dignity for this Shitty Gladiator.
Anyway, we will see if Al can go five for five August 12. My money is on yes, he can. And as you can see, my sense of self-worth has been effectively ravaged by the quadfecta of defeat. In fact, I've made a graph about it:
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