The Spiritual Lessons of Final Fantasy 7
Everybody, today’s a good one. A magnificent one even. Today we celebrate one of the greatest technologies to rise out of the twentieth century. And today we commemorate one of the most popular pastimes worldwide. For today is National Video Games Day!
Where to even start?
Video games are sometimes more than mere entertainment. Sometimes they’re even more than art. Sometimes they’re spiritual.
I first realized this when playing through Final Fantasy 7 in eighth grade. There are two moments in particular that revealed the heights of spiritual excess to me.
The first occurred at the end of disc one. I’m not going to name the moment specifically so as to spare those who’ve yet to play the game. But I will talk about the moment’s impact on me.
It was a late Saturday afternoon. My junior high’s homecoming dance was hours away and I was nervous, imagining all the ways I’d be rejected when asking for my crush’s hand in a dance. The game was keeping my nerves at bay.
And then it occurred and I was unprepared.
Sure, this tragic and cruel moment was nothing but pixels and mindless code running its predetermined course. But to my teenage mind, the moment was profound and inexplicable. It was the destruction of beauty and virtue for the mere sake of it. Purpose in and of itself had been lost. The truth of it all was to be found in the grit and grime of Midgar’s slums after all. The flowers had all wilted away.
I went to the dance heartbroken, dressed in my best buttoned up shirt and playful Tigger tie. Yes, I did slow dance with my crush, and that was a bittersweet refuge within my miasma of bereavement. But that day was a childhood lesson in loss.
Loss. Where’s the spirituality in that?
In rebirth.
My team of broken and rejected heroes moved on. Of course they wept and honored the past. But they took their memories and turned them into fuel. And I could too.
The second lesson the game wrote within the scripture of my youth occurred at Final Fantasy 7’s end.
My mom and I were living with my uncle and cousin at the time. My cousin and I stayed up many nights as Cloud and the team traversed Gaia in search of Sephiroth. But this was a bright, sunny weekend morning. My cousin was still asleep, but I’d woke up early, excited to see where the journey would lead today.
I landed the Highwind outside an ancient volcano and descended on foot. Cloud and the crew fought off many enemies on the inward movement to the core. And after slicing through the hoards, there he stood: Sephiroth. Suddenly the screen swirled into battle and I was face to face with the one winged angel.
It was now or never.
My body was electric. Adrenaline ran through me. It was Cloud, Red XIII, and Cid against the ultimate destruction. So it started.
Thumbs shaking, I threw attack after attack at Sephiroth. But his stamina was endless. He withstood every assault, every bit of magic cursing him. And one by one they went down. First Red, then Cloud, and only Cid was left standing.
Cid was my man. The chain smoking, foul mouthed curmudgeon who had lost at the game of life. If he could withstand the loss of his hopes and dreams, then I knew he could do this. If anything, he’d do it out of pure spite.
Sephiroth continued his onslaught. Cid took hit after hit. One more attack from the demented angel would do me in. I had but a scant amount of magic remaining. I had only one option: ultima. So Cid took a puff and, fatigued beyond hope, cast the spell, a measly one that wouldn’t even kill a Tonberry.
And then Sephiroth shook.
He was casting meteor again.
I was doomed.
But it was different this time. Instead of winding up for another spell, Sephiroth began to disintegrate.
I had won. I had beat the game.
I screamed, waking up my cousin. I shook him, excitedly telling him that we’d beat it. We’d beat Final Fantasy 7.
And the ending was glorious.
To this day, when times get hard, I’ll find myself muttering “Ultima Saves.” Beating Final Fantasy 7 was a lesson in resilience and hope. Never give up. No matter where you’ve been or who you are, you can do it. Every little thing counts.
Video games. Without them I wouldn’t be who I am.
Happy National Video Games Day!