As a longtime fan of Final Fantasy VII, I must say that the Remake has been nothing short of breathtaking. Having grown up with the original game, I can confidently say that this remastered version has brought back all the nostalgia while adding a new layer of depth and emotion to the story.

The attention to detail in Rebirth is truly astounding – from the stunning graphics to the beautifully crafted characters, each scene feels like a work of art. And yet, it’s not just about the visuals; the gameplay mechanics are solid, and the addition of new side quests and character interactions adds hours of enjoyment to an already lengthy experience.

But what truly sets Rebirth apart is its exploration of the characters’ lives. The writing is top-notch, with each character feeling real and relatable in their own unique way. Aerith, in particular, stands out as a shining example of a complex, well-rounded female character who feels like a friend rather than just an NPC.

What I appreciate the most about Rebirth is that it doesn’t shy away from addressing heavy themes like loss and sacrifice. The way it handles Aerith’s death is both heartbreaking and poignant, reminding us of the fragility of life and the importance of cherishing every moment we have with the people we love.

In closing, I would say that Final Fantasy VII Rebirth is a must-play for any fan of the series or JRPGs in general. It’s a game that will tug at your heartstrings, challenge you to think deeply about life and death, and leave you with a newfound appreciation for the power of storytelling in video games.

Oh, and one more thing – I can’t help but laugh at how Cloud has finally learned to let go and accept Aerith’s death (spoiler alert?). It took him long enough! But hey, better late than never.

Spoilers for Final Fantasy VII [1997], Remake, and Rebirth.

Ever since I witnessed Aerith’s heart-wrenching demise in Final Fantasy VII when it first hit the shelves, a persistent longing has lingered within me. This question, echoed by countless gamers across AOL chat rooms, Usenet forums, and game magazine inboxes, has remained unanswered for years: Could we somehow revive her?

As a gamer in 1997, I couldn’t help but feel a profound impact when Aerith, my companion in Final Fantasy VII, was killed off permanently. Unlike earlier games where death meant nothing more than starting over or spending more quarters, this was different – it felt real and permanent. Cloud, who had his own emotional baggage, understood the gravity of her loss. “Aerith will never talk, laugh, cry, or get angry again,” he realized in that moment as she breathed her last in his arms. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was indifferent. He saw through the human drama and flew away, amused by our trivial emotions.

In essence, Cloud was a puppet to him, emotions over something ultimately insignificant in the grand scheme of time and space being no more than a toddler crying over a crushed dandelion. But this indifference from Sephiroth would set the stage for Cloud’s internal struggle in the following chapters of Final Fantasy VII. He had to grapple with his own identity, trying to understand what it truly meant to be human, as mimicking Zack Fair’s work would only get him so far.

In the standalone story of Final Fantasy VII, the band of rebels reach their conclusion with heads held high, acknowledging the necessary sacrifices to save Gaia. However, it didn’t take long for fans and Square Enix to find means to defy death, ranging from GameShark codes that allowed players to keep Aerith in the party despite her demise, to Square Enix manipulating their own rules to feature Aerith in Advent Children and Kingdom Hearts. In a medium where death is often an easy hurdle to overcome—even in a series where resurrection is typically as simple as using a Phoenix Down—Aerith’s death should have been no more than a brief setback. After all, she wasn’t really dead, right?

In Final Fantasy VII: Rebirth, the standout feature is that it offers no moment of reprieve. Right from the beginning, Aerith’s fate is sealed, and the looming possibility of her self-sacrifice casts a heavy shadow over the game. The threats posed by Shinra, Sephiroth, and the lifestream create an atmosphere of constant tension, making it clear that our party’s journey could be cut short at any moment. Each character must face these dangers in their unique way, but Aerith remains unwavering throughout.

From the onset of Final Fantasy VII Remake, Aerith seems to understand more than anyone else about the destiny that awaits her and her comrades. Although it’s not explicitly stated, hints are frequently dropped throughout the game suggesting she knows how her story ends. The numerous obstacles and adversaries that rise against them suggest a potential disintegration of their heroic alliance. Yet, as Aerith stands outside Midgar, she can only gaze upon the prospective expanse of the vibrant, green landscape before her and appreciate the camaraderie she gets to experience. The game offers numerous side quests, novel mechanics, and whimsical detours. Most open-world games might struggle to reconcile the significance of the main mission with these optional distractions. However, in Rebirth, this tension isn’t a jarring discord but rather the very essence of the gameplay experience.

Towards the end of the game, Aerith guides an unresponsive Cloud through recollections of the slums of Midgar. Meanwhile, Shinra heads towards the Temple of the Ancients. Aerith invites you to sample some sweets with her.

1. In the universe of Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth is biding his time to strike lethally against all beings. Aerith encourages you to choose some trinkets with her.

2. In the realm of Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth seeks the perfect moment to kill everyone. Meanwhile, Aerith invites you to select some jewelry with her.

3. The multiverse of Final Fantasy VII is on the verge of shattering. All that Aerith desires is for Cloud to gaze upon her and hold her hand.

As a longtime gamer with over two decades of experience under my belt, I’ve often pondered about the peculiarity of role-playing games where the end of the world seems to hang in the balance, yet it always waits patiently for us to complete our exhaustive to-do lists first. It’s a pattern that never ceases to intrigue me.

From my perspective, I believe that the reason the end of the world often feels inconsequential is because these games are designed to give players a sense of control and power over their virtual worlds. In many instances, developers prioritize empowering players by allowing them to create immersive experiences, even if it means delaying the cataclysmic events until we’ve explored every nook and cranny, completed every side quest, and leveled up our characters to the maximum.

I’ve noticed this trend in a variety of games, but Breath of the Wild is an excellent example. In that game, players can opt for 0% speedruns where they zoom straight to Calamity Ganon as soon as they put on their first piece of clothing – and it never feels like they’re missing out on anything significant because the game has deliberately cheapened the consequences of saving the world. Nintendo isn’t alone in this approach; most open-world games are designed with a similar objective to provide players with a sense of power and control over their virtual experiences.

In conclusion, I believe that developers prioritize player immersion above all else, even if it means delaying the apocalypse until we’ve had our fill of side quests and level grinding. This design choice may seem counterintuitive at first glance, but it’s a testament to the power and influence that gamers have over their virtual worlds – and the lengths developers will go to ensure that we feel like true heroes in those worlds.

From the outset of Final Fantasy VII, the ominous presence of Sephiroth, Meteor, Shinra, and other threats were never intended to be merely a backdrop. When Sephiroth makes his fateful call, the serene overworld music transforms into one of Nobuo Uematsu’s most haunting compositions, serving as an unforgettable reminder of the mission at hand. This dramatic shift underscores the game’s willingness to take away something cherished from the player, emphasizing the gravity and importance of the story. It’s in the aftermath that the creators attempted to address Aerith’s absence without altering the narrative’s integrity. Conversely, Rebirth establishes its intentions from the very start. It invites players to appreciate the world they inhabit, the people who reside there, and the humanity that Sephiroth disregards so easily. The characters in this game are determined to confront Sephiroth, a silver-haired, one-winged angel of death, and defend all they hold dear. By the time players engage with the story, they will have a rich tapestry of experiences in life and love that serve as a powerful foundation for their determination to stand up against Sephiroth.

This moment takes us to where Square seems to be preparing us for another heart-wrenching scene, similar to when Aerith – now more authentically and movingly portrayed than her 1997 version – may meet her end in Cloud’s arms once more. Yet, it doesn’t happen that way. Despite some skillful fight sequences, Aerith is wounded by a stabbing attack. The materia tumbles down the stairs, and the theme resonates. Once again, many will shed tears. As we come to understand, this event is consistent with the established storyline. Even as Remake and Rebirth deviate from our familiar path, certain incidents are unavoidable. Aerith always perishes in the Temple of Ancients.

As a long-time comic book reader and enthusiast, I find Rebirth to be a unique and thought-provoking take on the genre. The way it delves into the characters’ past experiences and how they inform the current narrative is truly refreshing. What sets Rebirth apart from other comics is its emphasis on the human element – the struggle, emotions, and thoughts that define us as individuals.

In particular, the arc involving Cloud’s descent into madness and nihilism was particularly impactful for me. It served to highlight the inevitability of certain events in this universe, yet it also underscored the importance of fighting against fate, a message that resonated deeply with my own life experiences.

As someone who has faced adversity and struggled to overcome obstacles, I can relate to the idea of fighting against the odds. It’s a universal truth that applies to all of us – no matter our background or circumstances, we are all encouraged to push through hardships and keep moving forward. Rebirth captures this essence beautifully, making it an experience that is relatable and thought-provoking for readers like myself.

As a gamer, I find it fascinating how Square consistently weaves this theme into their Final Fantasy series, particularly in games like XV and XVI. They’ve got us grappling with the idea that even though destruction is unavoidable, every little interaction we have creates an intricate mosaic of reasons to save the world. Despite being confronted with death repeatedly, they urge us not just to accept it, but to immerse ourselves in these characters’ lives, their raw, imperfect beauty, because each life carries weight and significance. When death does come, and it does so heavily in these games, it has a defined identity. Life, however, is diverse and multifaceted. The act of confronting the end of everything loses its meaning if we don’t first get to know those lives. That’s why, in a truly impactful RPG narrative, the world’s end can wait.

In Final Fantasy VII, we’ve been yearning for years in reality to prevent Aerith from leaving us, struggling to accept her fleeting presence. The allure of Rebirth lies in granting us extended moments with her, allowing us ample time to cherish the essence of living as she does, so that when her story concludes, we are left without remorse for missed opportunities.

In 1997, when Aerith passed away, all that Cloud could dwell on was the grief – the irretrievable moments, the actions she would never perform again.

In the year 2024, when Aerith passes away, Cloud takes in his grief, clutches her hand, and reassures her with a firm promise: “I’ll manage.” Then, he allows her to depart, so she may continue fighting for the world that held such dear significance for her.

After the fight concludes, Cloud experiences a transformation in his perspective; traversing timelines, he perceives the emptiness caused by Aerith’s demise, yet carries with him an alternate version of her. However, Cloud recognizes that this is not the real Aerith. He can’t restore her to his world, but he can pass on what he knows about her to help his companions cope. Our heroes grieve, but they also understand that Rebirth demonstrates they are not alone in their struggle and that each of them has been enriched by knowing her.

Through Rebirth, we learn one of life’s toughest yet essential lessons of the year – letting go is painful but necessary. For so long, many of us had forgotten why losing Aerith was such a sorrowful experience. However, Rebirth allows us to recall those feelings, cherish them, and ultimately accept. We bid her farewell willingly, after spending time with her in ways we could never have envisioned on the original PS1. Learning to embrace an ending is a skill, and the Remake project has essentially invited us to gaze at the future, aware that it too shall end, but to enjoy it wholeheartedly nonetheless.

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2024-12-29 22:40