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translationandbetrayals · 11 months ago

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My experience with Final Fantasy

Like most modern neurodivergent horror stories, mine starts during the height of the pandemic. During the last quarter of 2021, in the nebulous and awkward period of my life between absolutely fumbling my academic career and being told I had undiagnosed ADHD, I had nothing else to do but sit in my room in front of the computer doing nothing except play Final Fantasy 14 all day from dawn until the dawn of the next day. Never being too big of a fan of FF (I had been successfully gaslit by the wider internet community into thinking turn-based JRPGs were trash) or MMOs (to me they were just neckbeard sandbox playgrounds) in general, I stepped into the world of Eorzea all thanks to my friend who suggested I tried out the free trial alongside him. Having nothing better to do I accepted. It took only a month to get my first class, my beloved black mage, to max level. I lived inside that game, witnessing its incredibly long and surprisingly well written main story, grouping together with other players to challenge the hardcore trials and raids, outfitting my character in multiple fashion outfits for every occasion and class, getting to know the community, making new friends and just doing every little thing the game had to offer. FF14 became somewhat of a part-time job for me, with evenings scheduled full with group raid practice all week long as the norm. Easy recommendation from me, great game in almost every aspect, even those that MMOs have always struggled with like main single player story, content obsoleteness and the like. You probably already knew this as FF14 has gained in recent years this almost mythical story around it, the online game that endured being killed and reset once only to eventually dethrone the legendary WOW as the most globally played MMO. What I believe is always overlooked is the “Final Fantasy 14” part of Final Fantasy 14, and by that I mean its simultaneous existence as both a standalone online world and as a main installment in the JRPG series, what I believe is the natural side effect of having 14 overshadow almost the entire franchise up to that point, not too different from WOW overshadowing Warcraft when it came out. To say that FF14 references mayor themes, designs and music from previous games is a massive understatement. I will try to explain it later, but the short summary is that a massive foundation on which the entire game is structured around consists on mechanics, design paradigms and story/tone expectations passed down like a mantle from game to game. Each mainline entry in the FF brand is its own unique world with unique characters, similar in obvious ways like sharing the same spell names or monster designs and more subtly in how each story revolves in some way or another about duality, for example. With this in mind, I want to talk about what is unarguably my biggest flaw when consuming media: my inability to enjoy a story without the full context. I can’t enjoy anything without having read or watched the previous thing before it, very big and old franchises are my supreme kryptonite. Sure, I can catch up on all Gundam origin movies to see the original series, I can play the Lain videogame after seeing the series. But the more I enjoyed FF14, the more I experienced what was in store and the more and more direct references it made to older titles that discomfort started to creep up on me. I had ignored it up to that point because surely it would be foolish to play the other 13 Final Fantasy games before it just to enjoy the current trendy MMO right? By August 2022 I decided to stop paying for my FF14 subscription. In an improvised farewell party, I said my goodbyes to all my friends and raid members, telling them that I would be back soon enough. Armed with nothing but the sword of hyperfixation, I embarked on my personal hero’s journey of beating every Final Fantasy game up until FF14. Today, I sadly announce that I severely underestimated this undertaking and as of November 2023 I have not returned to my old friends back in that MMO, already a year and 3 months after my fateful departure, like a lost legend or a very irresponsible parent. Rocky road it has been. My own obsession with the series managed to carry me long ways, as far as FF12! But, alas, destiny played its trick on me, and around march 2023 my computer imploded. Unable to do anything other than watch anime and read VNs (my stinky college laptop was all I had left and that poor machine OVERHEATED READING DRAMATICAL MURDER), without any input my hyperfixation on the FF franchise slowly died out. Don’t get me wrong, I still really really like it, and I’m glad I was proved wrong on that whole “JRPGs are always cliché and trash” preconception, but the cold reality is that I don’t get excited about FF today as much as I did back then, new things have been experienced and now my attention lies elsewhere. Even after finally repairing my old rig after some months of saving money, I just moved on and started playing and watching other things. Do I still intend to pick up where I left and eventually return to FF14? Absolutely, but that has been shelved in my backlog until I gather not only the force of will to start that journey again, but also the money and time necessary to get back into the MMO grind. There are a lot of things I want to talk about regarding FF, you don’t spend an insane amount of time on something without developing strong views on it and I do think that the games are generally underrated. Weird saying “underrated” when they have almost always been ingrained deep in pop culture and some of the bestselling RPG series so far, but there is some really interesting stuff that is strangely rarely discussed given how popular most entries are. But first, let us commence with something lighter. I have a machine gun stocked filled to the brim with little reviews of everything I went through, so stick ‘em up!

Final Fantasy (1987)

The very first one. A group of young warriors of light show up with magic crystals ready to stop the apocalypse. It’s old and janky and thematically it is nothing more than a Dungeons and Dragons rip-off. Feels weird seeing FF1 in its early development phases, when it still didn’t know what exactly it wanted to be, you know, before becoming one of the series that forever defined high fantasy later on. Some concepts are still here, like the 4 crystals business and iconic classes like the black mage my beloved, but you’re mostly playing this for the retro challenge factor. Story is *surprisingly* very good, despite all characters having no more than 2 lines of dialogue each (want a wise old guy but can’t make him talk too much due to hardware limitations? Make a brotherhood of wise old guys that the players talk to in succession instead!), try to guess the twist! Recommended if you’re interested.

Final Fantasy II (1988)

The trash one. Firion and his besties become refugees after the evil empire destroys their home and now they’re ready to fight back as part of the rebel militia. It is grindy, it is confusing and it is unforgiving, even when compared to other console RPGs of its period! FF2 is a tragedy, it tried to do so many experimental things, like dialogue trees and a dynamic skill system that leveled up with use rather than experience points, all while still stuck in the NES hardware, that I find it admirable for trying out mechanics that wouldn’t become common practice until a decade later, an admiration that starts disappearing after you actually play the game. I’m sorry but instant death cats is not something I’m willing to endure. Skippable.

Final Fantasy III (1990)

After clumsily falling down a pitfall, a group of rowdy teenagers find out they’re about to become the next incarnation of the warriors of light, and must save their world from impending oblivion. If FF1 walked and FF2 fell on its face and broke a few teeth, FF3 absolutely ran. Not only did it finally immortalize that iconic Final Fantasy aesthetic, with the introduction of the job system and most class archetypes, the summons, the whole duality theme and the relationship between light and dark, it is also really fun. Granted, we are still stuck on the NES era of games so you can still expect some jank, some bullsh*t here and there but the core experience is solid, it stands up today as a fun game. And that final dungeon is legendary. Solid recommend.

Final Fantasy IV (1991, also known as Final Fantasy II in the west)

Cecil, the dark knight, embarks on a journey of redemption as he realizes that being the dark knight of an imperialist kingdom might not have been as ethical as he thought it was. This is the first truly popular game. Being now in the SNES, FF4 has the technical capacity of telling a true cinematic experience, all while looking and sounding miles better than its predecessors. Aside from the really crazy final arc of the story, Cecil’s adventure tends to be kind of plain, the white bread base of fantasy stories, but there are some heartwarming moments in there, especially should you want to play the game through the end. Solid recommend.

Final Fantasy IV: Interlude and Final Fantasy IV: The After Years (2011 and 2008, respectively)

Direct sequels to FF4, FF4I and FF4TAY tell the story of the son of Cecil, as well as the fates of all the older party members and their family members, going on a second adventure to save the world from an alien threat. Obscenely linear, grindy asset flip that reuses not only pretty much everything from the original FF4, but also straight up tells the same story with the names reassigned. I guess you could enjoy them if you loved FF4 with your life? They are worst ones I played, skip them at all cost.

Final Fantasy V (1992)

A good-for-nothing vagabond kid, a runaway princess, a forgetful old man and a crossdressing pirate captain defy all odds by becoming BFFs and teaming up in order to save reality from dimensional collapse. This is the moment FF truly becomes great. There are plenty of reasons to really like FF5. Although FF3 and FF4 had finally established the franchise’s general vibe, FF5 perfected it. An amazing job system that is still being explored and enjoyed by speedrunners and challengerunners to this day, super-bosses, returning character designs and the true extent of “friendship kills god” are all things that are cemented here. If I can describe FF5 with one word, it would be anime. If you didn´t notice by the synopsis, the overall tone and humor of this game is lighter and the characters sillier. Playing it is just like watching a Saturday morning anime from the 90s, straight out of ETC TV, very fun and very impressive considering that vibe is flawlessly transmitted just trough expressive sprite work and charming dialogue. Also the first one to actually make me cry. And the origin of this banger. Easy recommendation.

Final Fantasy: Legend of the Crystals (1994)

An OVA animation made my studio Madhouse of all possible people. 200 years after the events of FFV, the descendants of the original party members fight against an unseen alien threat. Despite sounding similar to the FF4 sequels, this one is not so bad. Only loosely connected to the original games, with low budget animation and very short in length, LotC shares almost nothing with FF except the title and some character names. It’s just a fun low-risk fantasy thing done by madhouse but nothing that interesting to say about it. I like the villain design. You can watch this but don’t expect it to be featured in any hidden gem list, this just hidden.

Final Fantasy VI (1994, also known as Final Fantasy III in the west)

Using the power of technology, humanity has been able to return to normal after a great magical war almost wiped it out. With the whole mage race being exterminated out of fear, a rebel group is shocked to find a lost amnesiac girl called Terra, with the biological capability of controlling magic. My personal favorite. FF6 is BIG, not only in length and world size, but in party members and mechanics as well. A hopeful story about loving yourself and then the people around you. I frankly cannot say much about it without ranting on and on for hours, you should just go play it, completely blind. Must-play recommendation.

Final Fantasy VII (1997)

The popular poster-boy one. Cloud and company commit ecoterrorism. By now you’re probably aware that, yes, FF7 is good and know half the plot just by pure cultural osmosis. I can just humbly confirm that. There are some really cool aspects and moments that even watered down by years and years of public online discussion still hit hard. It is also strangely gay, at least relative to the other games. Easy recommendation.

Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core (2007)

A prequel to FF7, it tells the story of Cloud’s big brother figure Zack, as well as shedding more light into the twists of the original game. The Compilation of Final Fantasy VII is a multimedia series of works revolving around the original game, and I pretty much don’t have a lot to say about them. Crisis Core functions well as an action RPG but I found the overall experience kinda mid. In order to stretch the game out, a whole new subplot is introduced that just muddies the water around the preexisting canon. The few emotional beats directly referencing moments from FF7 do hit harder here, but that’s it. Skippable.

Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus (2006)

Set three years after the main events, the focus now falls on Vincent Valentine and his efforts to sort his own trauma along saving the world, again. I give this one bonus points for being a third person shooter of all possible genres and for making a conscious effort of expanding and exploring the optional party members that were overlooked in the original game, centering the game around them this time around instead of Cloud and the main gang. It’s ok, I liked the end I guess. Skippable.

Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children (2004)

A CGI animated movie directly produced and made by Square-Enix. Sephiroth returns and the Cloud gang has to kill him. Again. I refuse to believe that this isn’t just an excuse to make an hour long cinematic where the two fight. Skippable. Can’t they just let him finally rest? He’s tired from appearing everywhere let baby boy slee-wait what was that about a remake.

Final Fantasy VIII (1999)

A professional team of child soldier mercenaries fight against time itself to protect the memories of those they love. The controversial one. FF8 is probably not the hardest one, but it is the most unorthodox and difficult to onboard, both narratively and mechanically. Also set in a sci-fi setting like the previous one, FF8 is nevertheless more grounded, with more focus put into the political landscapes of the present and the near-future day rather than full on cyberpunk. It’s main character, Squall, has become a meme for being the ultimate brooding edgelord angsty teenager to ever appear on the franchise, but, that’s the point? Same with FF6, I will not go into details about this other favorite of mine. If you want to see a story about overcoming trauma and letting the people you care about into your life and care about you as well, go endure FF8. Must play recommendation.

Final Fantasy IX (2000)

The princess of Alexandria willingly gets herself abducted by a band of travelling thieves, hijinks ensue. Being the only medieval-ish fantasy game from the PS1 era is only the tip of the iceberg. FF9 was clearly made to be a love letter (or a pandering fan service tribute depending on your opinion) to the older, more classic games from the NES and SNES era, openly engaging with the clichés and even copying some designs from previous games. Despite being a museum gallery of references, it does stand on its own, with a colorful and cartoonish art style and a completely original story. The sheer insane amount of callbacks it does to the older games may deter the first time player to skip this one until they are fan enough to get the service, but even completely ignorant you won’t miss anything important from the main story itself. Easy recommendation.

Final Fantasy X (2002)

Water-polo player Tidus gets isekai’d into a polynesian fantasy world and embarks on a holy pilgrimage to kill the evil whale that destroyed his world. FFX is both a huge step up and weird downgrade from the series. Being the first to have a full 3D world, along with voice-acting and the overall graphical jump from PS1 to PS2, the story feels more cinematic than ever. On the other hand, the game is as linear as a hallway, and the dynamic real-time battles have been replaced with cookie-cutter turn-based combat. I would say it is a great disappointment, but it made me cry at the end, so I can’t be too mad at it. Solid recommend.

The other ones

Honorable mentions to both FF12 and FF14, great games that I cannot give a full opinion on as I have yet to actually finish them. Dishonorable mention to the shovelware that I played for the backlog, not even worth a full review, stuff like the battle royale. I would mention them but I’m afraid I don’t have much time left.

Meta-lore and Mediamixing

All mainline FF games follow one obligatory rule: they must be completely original and be set in their own unique universe. In paper, you don’t need to play FF6 to understand FF7, on first glance the only thing they both share is the brand name and the fact that they are both JRPGs. But that poses an interesting question: if all games in the franchise are separate and unique from each other, then what is the thing, apart from subjective branding, that establishes what counts as a FF game? Why are LiveALive and Xenogears their own thing, while FF8 and FF9, both being as distant to each other as they are with former, are considered to be entries in the same franchise continuity? It isn’t art style, tone or even genre, as those have been all over the place. Mediamixing is a concept that I was really glad to have learned in class, as it greatly helped me articulate how I feel about the series. It is clear that regardless of their own identity, the intended way to experience FF media is in tandem with each other. Unlike other mediamixers, the glue that makes everything stick together is not recurring characters or a shared universe (although FF does do this sometimes as an exception rather than the norm), but a shared framework on which the world building paradigms are established. This is a pretty curious phenomenon that I have decided to call Meta-lore. Unlike regular lore, the study and interest in in-world characters and events between entries, meta-lore is defined by the study and expansion of, well, *meta* idiosyncrasies and concepts between different universes and characters. You don’t get to see Vivi the black mage return in the sequel, but you do see Lulu, a witch pretty much the mirroring the gameplay and narrative role that a black mage fulfilled before. Magic may be a natural talent, it may be an ancient art, it may be a science, but you will always surely be able to cast esuna or flare. Whether it may happen in the past, the present or the future, the protagonists journey is always characterized by the unbreakable bonds of friendship through hardship. Holistically, one could imagine the charm of the franchise being akin to an oral legend changing and adapting as it is passed around through the centuries. The stories within are different but they always rhyme. Fans of FF don’t hop into the next game expecting to see a direct continuation of what the previous one established, to be a fan of FF is not to be a fan of a great, interwoven world, but to visit the same storyteller every once in a while, expecting a whole different experience each time. An already old storyteller, that, no matter how hard they try, will always include their own little quirks and morals into their fables because they just can’t help themselves each time. There are 2 specific examples of this that I would like to elaborate on:

Light and Dark

At least one protagonist and one antagonist will always be biological or metaphorical siblings

One of the most common and fundamental meta-lore themes of the franchise is that of dualism. The juxtaposition between white and black magic, the forces of light and the forces of darkness, the cycles of death and rebirth that permeate existence, the main conflict always arises as one of the opposites starts threatening the balance of the whole. Many interesting examples have come from this idea. FF3’s warriors of light are the successors to the warriors of darkness, cycling between each other as either the light side or the dark side starts growing in power, with neither of them portrayed as clear evil or good, but rather as forces of nature that react only due to the selfish acts of those willing to exploit the system. FF4’s overworld and underworld peacefully coexisting with each other until the imperialist efforts of the Baron kingdom shatter that balance in their drive to conquer both worlds, putting the whole planet at risk. FF presents its dualism as a natural and impartial state of being that all things must eventually return to. The villains are always looking to destabilize it in order to force the cycle to give them power or to permanently stagnate it in order to maintain a status quo that favors them. In contrast, the heroes are always forces of change, they are rebels, underdogs, misunderstood miscreants. Going back to the sibling metaphor, the Clouds and the Sephiroths, the Squalls and the Seifers, the Zidanes and the Kujas, they are all designed to be mirrored versions of each other. What truly separates a force of good from a force of evil isn’t their power, or if they are a force of light or darkness, it’s their own willingness to embrace love, to embrace change and maintain hope in tomorrow. A villain, unable to withstand their trauma and forgive the world that hurt them, will instead desperately try to change the outside world, to force the gears of reality into a state that will no longer hurt them anymore. A hero will persevere and accept the reality they live in, they will heal, they will change naturally, they will accept what comes and above all, they will always strive to be a better version of themselves. A force of evil prevents the world from spinning on from out of fear. A genuine force of good will accept that all things must end and begin anew out of hope. Its dualism, then, is not presented as forces exclusive from each other, but as two sides of the same coin, two non-exclusive halves of the same whole. One cannot have healing without wounds; one cannot have joy without pain.

Killing God

Through the power of friendship of course

Another shared theme, and my personal favorite, is the lifesaving value of interpersonal connections. Being able to do the impossible just by having friends is a ridiculous idea, but when people make fun of that cliché they are missing a whole load of context and build up necessary for the final deity killing blow. Universally, FF protagonists always start socially isolated from the world around them. FF4’s Cecil was military nobility and thus unable to relate to the common people he used to subjugate as his job, FF6’s Terra is an almost alien creature, enslaved and mind controlled through all her life, waking up and the having to learn the meaning to everything way too late, FF7 and FF8’s Cloud and Squall have been traumatized from childhood with imposter syndrome and fear of abandonment respectively, choosing to close themselves to the people around them in fear of losing them again. The journey they all take is always two sided (again with the duality), it is the material quest to stop evil from destroying the world and also the spiritual quest to overcome their own fears and ignorance of intimacy. They are broody and maladjusted not because it is cool to be uncaring, but too showcase that without letting people get closer to you, without opening your heart to others and getting them to open their hearts to you, you are basically powerless to do anything in life, to change the world around you and yourself, quoting the title of another great Square-Enix game, letting “the world end with you”. Killing god then is not to be taken as a literal manifestation of the endless power of friendship, it’s more of a metaphorical device to showcase the confined reality the protagonists where living on being shattered by the characters growing out from their bubbles and learning to relate to others. The god of Death, defeated by living on through the memories of those who cherish you. The god of Tyranny, defeated by unconditionally trusting in your loved ones. The god of Hate, defeated by forgiving and understanding those who wronged you.

Closing thoughts

Getting out from my FF rollercoaster adventure I realized I had learned much more than what I originally expected. I had realized that idolizing loner archetypes was only half the story unless one is willing to engage with the difficult part of trying to get better, to not dwell and rot in one’s own misery, but to try and be a better version of yourself every day, to fight those misanthropic urges, to trust in strangers, and always be open to new people, no matter how weird and out of touch they might seem relative to yourself. It also taught me a lot about change, how it is both inevitable and inoffensive. I’m honestly surprised at how much I don’t miss playing the games, because why would I? I don’t need to be constantly replaying them in order to remember them, I don’t need to be constantly thinking about them to remember their lessons. Instead of doing that I should go forth and try new things, meet new people, experiment. What is important to you will never die within your heart, if it did, well it wasn’t that important then. If what you’re looking for is power, then you need to allow yourself to be changed. If what you’re looking for is love, then you need to allow yourself to be changed. If you truly want to change yourself, then you need to have the power to love yourself first.

-Sergio Valtierra

#Anime #Japan #personalstory #essay #submission

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idolizerp · 6 years ago

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LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S MAIN RAP SON JIYONG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Lyric writing

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): N/A INSPIRATION: jiyong was inspired by the performances of idol-groups while he was still a songwriter for 99 entertainment. he realized he wanted to be on stage to entertain instead of working behind the scenes, and wished to be as accomplished as the talented artists who came before him. SPECIAL TALENTS:

acrostic poems

freestyle rap

impressions of some celebrities (style over tone)

NOTABLE FACTS:

jiyong’s older brother was a producer for a small company and introduced him to the idea of songwriting as a profession

he often carries a small notebook to write ideas in whether they’re general themes and concepts or lyrical phrases to later add to a song

since jiyong dislikes aegyo, his fans often buy him cute accessories during fan-meets to tease the idol

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

his thoughts on imperial are always exchanged between feelings of pride and disappointment. he’s aware that he is riding on the back of this boy-group to gain solo success, and he doesn’t truly attempt to mask it. short term, he wants — no, needs imperial to continue to grow into an icon that can’t be so easily ignored by 99. then, he needs to set his solo musical career into action.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

jiyong’s presence in the idol industry is decorated with shifting fault lines, yet, regardless, it doesn’t halt his efforts in founding a strong career upon it. whether or not it is with imperial or alone, his focus is on constructing a stronger presence in the industry, one that is admired and constantly rewarded for fulfilling it’s expanding potential. he’s got his eyes set on developing his future musically with more to release, but also to grow into a household name through variety shows and other notable appearances. jiyong doesn’t see limits; he thinks his are endless in a greedy and aggressive outlook.

IDOL IMAGE

ABSTRACTION.

he’s an eccentric paradigm.

jiyong is full of a youthful gleam, charming and saccharine but also wickedly sinful. it’s a dichotomy between two opposing characteristics that somehow suits his boyish image. the way hard-hitting raps spill from his mouth to the timings of his cheesy winks that arouse excitement from the crowd. 99 entertainment composes him in a way that’s unforgettable. they want him to shine enough to burn the mirage of his beaming, playful grins, and his half-lidded sultry stares into the minds of those who take a glance at imperial. just enough to keep them hooked onto the taste, yet never completely fulfilled by the portion; their affair with the rapper further evolving into a heated addiction. his image is one of a tease, someone who stands out in a way that brings the audience crawling back for more.

loud laughter and charming habits are part of this persona that helps him appeal to younger fans who see their high school crush in his mannerisms, but also the older adults reminiscing their passing youth. with his aggression stifled to appear as power instead; his obsessive drive conducted into the disposition of passion, he’s just a reckless romantic making love through the design of various lyrics and slanted stares. jiyong can just as easily be the mischievously, enticing performer as he can the boy-next-door. the pattern of inky designs sprawled on his skin serving as a suitable accessory to his bright smiles; something a little bolder to counteract all the sweetness. he could make anything seem okay.

people tend to gravitate towards him, feeling as though they know him. he gives away just enough information to build those gentle connections and just enough distance that his conversations follow the likeness of a person who is wholesome and genuine. jiyong is a quick-witted, enigmatic performer who never runs out of things to say.

he is a desire, previewing the rare hints of thrill with the flash of a pearly smile, curved like a cocky promise, bright with the hues of a faux cheekiness. he’s got an approachable expression, one that is attentive, full of comfort, yet he’s also dressed as a risk — a temptation to indulge. like a sigh, a soft ache. jiyong induces sensations of anticipation and yearning that never see their end. it’s like falling in love, or falling in sin — none can tell. all that remains is a blur of cascading moments; glimmering in hues of an effervescent youth, and devilishly frisky smirks. they only see the side leaning beyond the curtain, one that dares them to inquire further with the promise to be cherished.

IDOL HISTORY

INCEPTION.

the design of trust is raw and vulnerable. their father constructs it impeccably, unveiling the directions and avenues it unwinds into, displaying the safety and ease of restraining yourself from its reaches. he basks in an asylum of silence; physically near, yet thoughts and emotions cast off into the distance. convenience is the method he employs in raising his children. a laid-back stance — hardly present. his role is vacant and memories with him are scarce. even under the chill of seoul’s winters, they’re more occupied with themselves than they are with each other. life is about selfishness; taking what your greed desires, and their life flourishes under that insistent mantra.

they find their father in intervals; bits of hope and passion stitched together, smoking a cigarette in the suffocating space of his recording studio. it’s an obsessive hobby, truly. his business hasn’t been profitable for years, yet he remains bound to it, like a religion, bringing his children into its worship.

it’s where the essence of jiyong is forged; a fixation with words contrived. his formative development is guided by puffs of smoke, and a heavy, exhausted voice. a focus is spent on poetry, on lyrics, and on the weight of certain words: how to say more than enough with much too little. two children grow up attuned to the sense of music in its complex existence and lonely absence. it’s something they experience often, but never well enough.

METAMORPHOSIS.

the world runs on ecstasy. it’s a drugged up organization that passes their days as seconds and he’s dragged by its pull, never able to find his footing or keep up with the pace. jiyong is seventeen, in his last year of formal education, and not worthy of the demand of mundane society. he’s got nowhere to go.

that’s meant to change, however. his brother is a producer working for a small company, and upon noticing the riches of potential in jiyong’s prisoning hobby, he suggests an idea that shifts the younger boy’s uncertain future into a ravaging interest. there’s a chance that jiyong’s affinity for lyrics and poetry can land him a job in the field they know too well. it’d be a prosperous chance to indulge the full expanse of his musical ambitions — thought it can hardly be called that. for him, it’s an evolving obsession, a habit too hard to quit. it’s all he genuinely understands and acknowledges; drowning between the arrangement and beauty of words. phrases chase jiyong in the dark, they cling to his mind until he’s a puppet of their sinister reign, forced to fulfill their ultimatum. his grades can’t compete, so they don’t.

his search ends when a company responds to his application at last. 99 entertainment greets him with security, and then it begins. his youth is malformed, direction disjointed, but they can fix that. they can guide the rush of words that litter his pages and plague his mind. they turn shrapnel of ideas and mold them into solid concepts. jiyong slowly discovers his footing as a proper songwriter there, yet the words he writes next taste bitter.

they don’t feel like him, and it’s been hard to tell that for a while. perhaps it’s because he was never meant to turn his hobby into a profession or perhaps it’s because of the new environment that demands socializing skills. he’s always known isolation. for him, solidarity comes with no risks. working alone is the only way to ensure the mistakes made are exclusively his, but there are other plans 99 has devised which he can’t foresee yet.

he wonders what more he can be, and those curiosities are answered with a startling opportunity; a tempting consequence stemmed from his rap recordings of several guide tracks. it seems as if his company has always held different plans than jiyong had intended, because, after only three months, he’s encouraged to join a line-up of competitive, experienced trainees, thirsting for a chance he hadn’t originally fathomed. there’s a rising tide on the horizon. jiyong has always worked to better elevate his career, and with his agreement of their decision, imperial appears somewhere along the swell of that wave as a glimmering chance for his greedy heart to chase.

COMPLEX.

there’s resentment. he feels it creeping along his spine when he is introduced as another trainee the rest must beat. it digs inwards, sitting in his lungs; an inherent phantom swallowing the air he attempts to breathe. jiyong isn’t accustomed to the company of scrutiny or the stare of spectators picking him apart for the skills in which he lacks. in their eyes, he was unfairly picked with ease while they were vetted through auditions and harsh evaluations. jiyong is the unworthy contender and it makes his blood boil in a manner he hasn’t expressed before. a sort of annoyed rage that only motivates him to work harder to genuinely become the threat they’ve assumed of him. intense hatred is an aggressive manner that seeps into his persona and it doesn’t let go.

there’s anxiety. he feels it in every step as his muscles are molded into the rhythm of dance, his voice ringing until sore and identity falling apart by its threadbare edges. jiyong isn’t a fan of surprises, and the survival show comes as one that is terrifying and daunting in style. the fact that the already ruthless competition will only grow harder has him drowning in a turmoil of nervousness. he’s uncertain in knowing if he desires this, but then again, he doesn’t understand passion like others, only dismissing doubts and uncertainties as hindrances attempting to weaken his resolve. as long as jiyong knows what he wants, passion and yearning are not an issue. he will take what he believes is his, another step upwards in his obsessive progress towards success and a fulfilling career.

by the time the results are announced and the final decisions made, the nineteen-year-old is an exhausted carcass that practices for things he doesn’t honestly desire. he’s technically won, but he doesn’t feel like a winner with his identity shaped into a youth born of sarcasm and a hungry appetite for competition. the demands of management and the expectations of the public build him into developing tendencies he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s part of the transition. investing bits and pieces of originality, sacrificing time and habits, all for the hope of a greater return and a rewarding reception. not all of it is manufactured or catered for a false presentation, but it’s fake enough to have his teeth grit and his gaze slant.

he trains as the final installment to a boy-group; the unanticipated intruder; a thief that robbed others of their chance. in the archaic judgment of a man, he’d be one becoming; boy made machination, boy torn up into a prophetic villain. theirs to own, theirs to control, but jiyong is too insane to succumb to their discrimination. their loss isn’t of his concern. however, the public differs largely from the trainees who’d exchanged bitter verdicts behind his back. they say it to his face, and he can’t conceal himself into the background. the idol definition printed him physically before an audience, and not just metaphorically as he’d intended. jiyong may not be of others to possess and command, but he is also not his own. that fact begins to gnaw on him. the lack of control, the weight of unity and collective burden of individual mistakes — all wear him down faster than the criticisms.

there’s a mass that is dragged by idols; a lie of perfection to be repeatedly told for the sake of consistency. he doesn’t understand the need to be so loyal to it, but they’re all hostage to the group and lifestyle regardless, no escape once they’ve been born to the world for its entertainment.

APOTHEOSIS.

when his brother passes in a car accident, late into the following year, the worst is brought forth in jiyong. self-destruction becomes his clingiest companion, and while he’s been its prized subject for years, it grows tenfold until he’s a vacant vessel with only misery as cargo. jiyong barely knew him, he realizes. he was someone who spoke too much, yet his words never crossed the distance between them to reach jiyong. he wasn’t as good with them as their father. he was more similar to their mother instead, saying too much in attempts to compensate the trembling discordance in the air, filling it with more insecurity than draining it of the crippling tension hanging in the walls of their paper home.

jiyong tortures himself with the details of the death. he’s always been a subject of obsession, so he drowns in this too, forging guilt where there should exist none, clinging to a stick of sadness that rests heavy in his lungs. it’s no surprise that among his other habits, he falls into rhythm with melancholia as well. for a brief moment, he feels regret in his choices.

glancing over, he spots his mother. she looks to be near destroyed by the weight of loss. it’s unfair. she was always unhappy. taking on the role of a parent who only loved work and made up for her absence with too many incoherent and drunken stories. normalcy was a curse for someone like her. the darkness haunting their home both ruining yet sustaining the desperate creature nestled within the confines of her skin. she wanted to be something, he knew that, but her mind was poisoned by the same amber hues she drank into midnight. her body only occupied with scars of a world that meant to maul her. he used to catch glimpses of her sometimes. there was dialogue whenever she looked over, a gleam of rare interest, but jiyong doesn’t remember it. that was too long ago.

when a sob trembles from her lips jiyong holds onto her. he does so tightly, fingers gripping her arms, trying to cling onto something, but she’s as lost as he is, and he doesn’t find anything secure to grasp onto.

jiyong feels directionless. the man that lead him here is no more, and the future that’d once seemed vast, despite its various flaws, now hangs uncertain once again with the departure of a member. nothing makes much sense and he retreats further inwards, choosing what’s convenient, liberating himself from the expenses of trust by binding himself to shackles of isolation and committing to nothing but his sole interests. he insists on carrying his burdens and sorrow alone, confined to the walls of work as he tears into melodies, adding more to his schedule. the routine stings, but in a manner that hurts just right, reminding him of his intentions and keeping his head inches above a river of defeat.

HAMARTIA.

selfishness is what keeps people alive. jiyong reminds himself that as he paves a future solely for himself. he’s still filled to the brim with feelings of melancholy and hints of guilt. they never leave. it seems that everything he comes into contact with has a way of sticking around, including the delusional fans that worship his name and the same three faces littering the dorm. as time passes and the routine of their dazzling life dulls into a mundane chore, he relies on his drive to keep him awake throughout their idol reign, planning out one goal after the next to conquer. it’s tyrannical how he works, never sated, never fulfilled, sights always settled on something more; greedy and obsessive, his tragic flaws fuelling his future successes.

jiyong’s only been getting smarter, wielding his act in a manner to impress, in an attempt to get closer to attaining the things he wants. a charming and clean public presence makes him a reputable celebrity to host certain shows. his background in songwriting and his skill in rap are great in assisting his focus for a solo. he’s resourceful, aware of what connections to keep and which to discard.

for him, an empty mind is a devil’s cavern so jiyong fills his thoughts with tasks to fulfill, never allowing himself to indulge in a break. it’s too risky that way. he can’t focus on unraveling what he doesn’t understand about himself when it’s a nuisance to his progress. his personality is distorted between what is and isn’t authentic, it can’t be pinpointed which parts of him are genuine and which were constructed for him years ago. the dilemma of a blurring dichotomy is what could boil under the surface of his gleaming smile if he gave into that confusion, but jiyong resists. he isn’t bothered to discover those facts. maybe he’s never known who he is, maybe it’s something he’s yet to find out or something he lost long ago. however, upholding his charming facade is what’s currently convenient, so he folds into it and continues to proceed, whether it’s with imperial or not.

he’s only twenty-four, but his ending was destined long before. he’ll end up the same as he was when it all started; buried in a potter’s field with all his pennies spent.

#id.bio #id.imperial #id.99 #id.jung jaewon #id.legacy

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