Final Fantasy X: the ninja businessdingo

Having played and completed Final Fantasy XII and Persona 3 FES, I’ve begun my third Playstation 2 Japanese RPG on the trot, Final Fantasy X.

Final Fantasy X was released in 2001 but it looks older than that and occasionally plays like a really old game. Playing it makes a gamer better appreciate the improvements Final Fantasy XII brought to JRPGs, console gaming and RPGs as a whole.

The random encounter feature in FFX is the biggest gameplay annoyance by far. You’re jogging at a sedate pace on what appears to be a quiet country road when the screen suddenly shatters without warning and foes appear out of the ether.

(Original image source: SCEA.)

These foes’ capacity to remain undetected until they wish to announce their presence is nothing short of extraordinary. What we have here is no ordinary dingo. This clearly is a ninja dingo, a dingo that has gone beyond other dingoes and mastered the art of the silent step. It’s only right and proper that you should take a moment to appreciate its achievement and skill before bludgeoning it to death for interrupting your jogging session.

Upon death, the ninja dingo reveals another surprise. It was carrying money, no doubt capital for some entrepreneurial endeavour. Not merely a ninja dingo, this then was a ninja dingo with business acumen. Perhaps it had hoped one day to open up a franchise of dojos to train other creatures of Spira in the ways of the ninja. What a truly fascinating creature. National Geographic should do a special on it. Peter Coyote could narrate. “Dawn breaks over a country road in Besaid …”

Alas, having had its life cut short by an irate jogger, the ninja businessdingo’s dreams will not be realised now. A cruel world you are, Spira.

But the most remarkable thing about these stealthy mobs is their diversity. An early mob in the game might consist of a ninja businessdingo, a water flan, and a floating … something-or-other. It’s remarkable how these different species have put aside their differences — physiological, cultural perhaps even philosophical — and banded together in a bid to gank the hapless jogger. Who knows how long they had to wait in hiding for one to come along. They must have needed immense patience and tolerance for each other’s foibles in order to get along during all that time.

Humanity could learn precious lessons about unity from them. If a dingo and a water flan could work hand in hand (or paw in … whatever it is water flans have that passes for a hand), perhaps we, too, could overcome our many differences and disagreements, unite and step forward together to a shining future with hearts burning with justice for the goodness of all.

I think I may have to cut down on JRPGs.

Dot dot dot.