[Warforged Mage sings Summer Nights from the musical Grease]
DM [Sighing]: Remember to stay in character, guys.
Bard: That is in character! I have just relayed the ancient opera of Cyr, Grease, now lost to the ravages of time and only known by a few true bards who have passed down the oral knowledge of the Pink Ladies and the Tbirds. We were mourning the loss of true art -
Warforged Mage [Belts out of tune]: THOSE SUH-HU-MER…NIIIIIIIIIIIHHH HIIIIGHTS!!
Bard [Wipes away fake tear]: I’m just so proud to keep the memory alive, you know?
Blood mages keeping massive, commercial-sized bottles of iron tablets on hand because steaks are not always available in war zones.
Blood mages being feared, not because they are violent and loud and messy but because they are quiet.
Blood mages thinking of crystal balls with quiet envy as they pull yet another pair of disposable gloves from their pack to read a ghoul’s entrails.
Blood mages who can hear the flutter of your heart when they concentrate, who know approximately how much blood a human body has and exactly how much blood their teammates have in total.
Blood mages using barriers to roll down hills, the sphere exploding against a tree in a wave of blood and laughter.
Blood mages burning their life essence to keep their team alive whatever gets thrown at them, cheeks growing gaunt as their fingers move through the familiar rituals.
Blood mages didn’t used to live very long, not using a magic that demands life in slices as a payment but the Bees change that.
Blood mages biting the inside of their cheek to keep from laughing as their (temporary) captors take their weapons but leave the pocket book tied to their belt.
Blood mages who start gathering knowledge, sharing secrets with other blood mages regardless of faction, bypassing Geary and Sonnac and Bong Cha as they start making new magics, pushing Bee endurance and immortality to it’s limits.
I really have to adore Square Eenix trying to hold on to the pretense that they’re making Final Fantasy games. Look at these four mopey idiots in their black outfits riding a bunch of frazzled yellow ostriches. This worked when one of the characters had a gun for a hand. It worked when your giant-titted black mage wore so many belts I assumed a normal bathroom stop became a forty-minute ordeal that required at least two people. . But when every single character became a sad, colorblind, white guy with trendy hair to acknowledge they carefully choose to be like this every morning, we passed a point so stupid that they can only be saved if they keep going. I so want this game to be to video games what “The Room” was to cinema. A horrific trainwreck of bad acting and even worse writing, drawing inspiration from the lead director’s struggle to interact with women. I want four dramatic, inappropriate suicides at the end. I want to see books written about the development staff grappling with the insanity of the project. . Final Fantasy has been around since the NES and it’s the project that saved the company. It would be so poetic and beautiful if it was also the project that one day destroyed it.