Warning: The following article on Final Fantasy XIV contains spoilers for the game.
I can close my eyes and vividly remember those gates in Final Fantasy XIV. There, a bridge yawned on the other side, splitting me from the dragon-warring city of Ishgard. An outcast, an explorer, and a hero made up my character’s identity, yet a question still stood: Who am I?
Ironically, that character – whom I’ve long retired as the Warrior of Light – paralleled my journey in some respects. Instead of dashing through conflict, tangoing with the likes of foul-breathed Malboros and fabled Primals, my years followed the loss and rekindling of identity through university and close, unexpected deaths as I played Final Fantasy XIV.
I’m not special because of this; look to forums and social media to find many faced with hard times during the MMO’s over-a-decade-long service as proof. The game has been a warm comfort.
This is why Heavensward was an excellent shelter in 2016 when I became a freshman in college. It had this unseeable, searing connection to my very being that cemented FFXIV as this “forever game” that I convinced myself it was, even though I knew all good things end. But the lasting circumstances after A Realm Reborn had set the snare.
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Caught in the drama of a kingdom’s coup and mutiny within an organization I had believed good, the odds stacked against my character probably would have crushed me if the shoe was on the other foot, but still, I had the chance to be bold.
Escape, run for refuge, and build anew. I had done the same: leaving my hometown to escape family, running to a place far but not too far from home, and starting anew on a clean slate. As gamers, we involuntarily identify with specific characters because we see ourselves in them, even the weakest parts we deny, and I couldn’t shake Final Fantasy XIV because of this feverish hold.
Of course, it wasn’t always this deep. The raids were fun climatic setups that had me by the jaw, the story broke the mold for MMO storytelling to a revolutionary degree, and I had friends to experience this all with. But looking at the game now, as it ramps up to Dawntrail, what I felt doesn’t rise in my throat like it used to or water my eyes.
This isn’t content burnout or a lack of excitement given the new direction of the MMO; I’m still eagerly tuning in to developer live letters with director Yoshi-P and returning to FFXIV content creators to hear their job theories.
From the Heavensward expansion to Stormblood to Shadowbringers to Endwalker, the story’s momentum to defeat the Darkness as Light’s champion was a plight that kept me hooked, but truthfully, I unconsciously wanted to see my character reclaim their spirit.
I had such a strong bond with them that I’d willingly spend forever, if I could, to see them back to adventuring instead of at the beck and call of world-ending danger. And maybe I’m speaking of myself too highly, but I saw myself as this hero in my life, too.
I was the first-generation college kid from a family where everything was hand-to-mouth. Trying to go to the big university, one of the “best” in the state, felt appropriately heroic to my younger siblings to inspire them to reach for the stars, and later, I’d even convince older cousins with kids and grandparents to attempt the same. When I became this beacon to people, and they invested in my success by sending money and food, my soul felt heavy somewhere in this process.
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The hero’s toll was burdensome. I saw this in my character. They’d weather the pain of losing Haurchefant and many who contributed the most to their safety, became the face of rebellions, and answered the endless calls for help when shit hit the fan with Primals. The Warrior of Light was the world’s beacon who liked to help, but as the Dark Knight side quests have often alluded to, the inky undertone that my character is traumatized and unhappy resonated with me.
Could resolving the world and other worlds of their conflicts make them happy? Would they ever? Would I? I had to find out, so I defeated everything that came my way: Tests, Primals, Bills, Quests, Trauma, Raids. Before I knew it, I was at the end of Endwalker – the overarching story exploding in a single moment and its conclusion lifting the hero role from me.
I finished the expansion not long after graduation and watched my Warrior of Light turn his gaze toward wild adventure before closing the game. Forever wasn’t as long as I thought; we both could rest and think about what we wanted to do. We had time – the world was still unexplored and new, and we picked up crucial skills along our short journey.
Since then, I haven’t returned to my forever game, Final Fantasy XIV, and don’t believe I ever will unless it’s for a work opportunity. That click you feel when you know something is over happened years ago for me. All I have are memories and my heroic exploits – in the Source and my life – to keep me going forward.
