(no subject)
Nov. 17th, 2007 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenFinished Final Fantasy Tactics: The War Of The Lions. The verdict? THIS IS THE WAY. Beautifully retranslated (in spite of some weird choices in the new romanization), the animated cutscenes were great, the voice acting was good (even the BAD Prince of Persia managed to nail it in some lines), and the extra scenes were very smoothly integrated without disrupting any of the original storyline and, in fact, made it a lot more balanced. Characters didn't just fade into the non-speaking role background as soon as they joined up anymore! Throw in some Gideon Emery coming back for an encore and you really do have a great game that was well worth the arm and a leg the PSP cost. I am going to train up my guys and play on teh internets!
“And anyway you need to add a bit more gunpowder if you expect it to do anything beyond jab people in the—oy! Ramza!” Mustadio whipped away from the gaggle of chemists he had been instructing in the fair art of shooting men in the head. He had just spotted their leader, extricating himself from one of the nearer tents. “About--”
“No,” said Ramza, combing his hair down and making for the river in an uncharacteristically irritated step.
Mustadio stopped, blinking. “Oh, no. Not about supplies. About the--”
“I have no notion of what you speak.”
“So you have no notion of the man who’s just sat himself down at the fire this morn?”
“Absolutely none, Mustadio. I have seen no such man in our midsts.”
Mustadio crossed his arms. “Even though he is taller than Ser Agrias, has shirts whiter than your immortal soul, and has demanded his own living accommodations?”
Ramza whirled back. “Has he? He’ll get no such thing.” When Mustadio began to laugh, the knight’s shoulders dropped. The jig was, evidentally, quite up. “…there is no man of that description in our company,” he said quietly. “But if you mean the stranger who followed me back to camp last evening, he is no addition of mine.”
Mustadio somehow managed to stop laughing long enough to quirk his eyebrow. “Really? He says he’s spoken to you.”
Ramza waved a hand, trying to ward off the idea. “We spoke of things, to be sure. But none of those things were an invitation.”
So much for a straight face. Mustadio snorted again.
“What?” demanded the young commander. “Share your thoughts, Mustadio.”
“I just think…you turning down an able body. That’s a bit odd on your part, isn’t it? I mean, you accepted that mad man Father summoned.”
This was not a new conversation. In fact, this was the conversation that came up every time Mustadio happened to find a pretty girl in a tavern. “…we owe it to Cloud, he’s not that bad off.”
“He seizes and thinks that you’re supposed to use jewelry for magic. How about Ser Beowulf, then?”
Oh, now he was just being silly. “Ser Beowulf is of able mind and a very sound blade--”
“Ser Beowulf has a most questionable relationship with that dragon and you very well know it.”
“Ser Beowulf is simply--” Ramza trailed off. He was suddenly all too aware that the chemists were still within earshot, and that some of them were perfectly virtuous young women, and it was not in anyone’s interests to have this conversation near polite company. “…well. What is your point, then?”
“My point,” Mustadio grinned, giving Ramza’s shoulder a companionable smack, “Is that this man must’ve done something spectacularly offensive to not live up to your illustrious standard. What’s more, he actually seems to have gotten down your gorget. What in the star’s name did he say?”
“It bears no repeating,” said Ramza, sourly twiddling his finger through the chocobolick, which crumpled by sleep drooped between his eyes. “You may ask our self-proclaimed sky pirate, if you’d like. But I’d much rather he be ignored. That way he will eventually go away.”
Mustadio’s smile faded. His hand slipped from his shoulder. “Sky pirate?”
Ramza barely noticed the change in his machinist’s manner; he was already turning back towards the waterside. “Yes. I thought that was passing strange. If you’re going to be attempting to bother your way into an army you ought to at least lie about having real occupation--”
“It is a real occupation,” said Mustadio. His sounded strangled. This, gave Ramza some pause. He looked back, head tipped with concern.
“What is this?” The color had gone out of Mustadio’s face.
“…if one reads the right texts,” muttered Mustadio. “And if one-- did he say from whence he hailed? That piece he was carrying… should ask for his name. Yes. I’ll do that. He’s probably from the guilds.”
“Mustadio?” asked Ramza. Mustadio was already drifting back, his eyes gone misty, muttering the whole way. “Mustadio!” …there was no helping him now.
Ramza sighed and dropped his hands back to his side. Something told him this ‘Balthier’ was here to stay.
“And anyway you need to add a bit more gunpowder if you expect it to do anything beyond jab people in the—oy! Ramza!” Mustadio whipped away from the gaggle of chemists he had been instructing in the fair art of shooting men in the head. He had just spotted their leader, extricating himself from one of the nearer tents. “About--”
“No,” said Ramza, combing his hair down and making for the river in an uncharacteristically irritated step.
Mustadio stopped, blinking. “Oh, no. Not about supplies. About the--”
“I have no notion of what you speak.”
“So you have no notion of the man who’s just sat himself down at the fire this morn?”
“Absolutely none, Mustadio. I have seen no such man in our midsts.”
Mustadio crossed his arms. “Even though he is taller than Ser Agrias, has shirts whiter than your immortal soul, and has demanded his own living accommodations?”
Ramza whirled back. “Has he? He’ll get no such thing.” When Mustadio began to laugh, the knight’s shoulders dropped. The jig was, evidentally, quite up. “…there is no man of that description in our company,” he said quietly. “But if you mean the stranger who followed me back to camp last evening, he is no addition of mine.”
Mustadio somehow managed to stop laughing long enough to quirk his eyebrow. “Really? He says he’s spoken to you.”
Ramza waved a hand, trying to ward off the idea. “We spoke of things, to be sure. But none of those things were an invitation.”
So much for a straight face. Mustadio snorted again.
“What?” demanded the young commander. “Share your thoughts, Mustadio.”
“I just think…you turning down an able body. That’s a bit odd on your part, isn’t it? I mean, you accepted that mad man Father summoned.”
This was not a new conversation. In fact, this was the conversation that came up every time Mustadio happened to find a pretty girl in a tavern. “…we owe it to Cloud, he’s not that bad off.”
“He seizes and thinks that you’re supposed to use jewelry for magic. How about Ser Beowulf, then?”
Oh, now he was just being silly. “Ser Beowulf is of able mind and a very sound blade--”
“Ser Beowulf has a most questionable relationship with that dragon and you very well know it.”
“Ser Beowulf is simply--” Ramza trailed off. He was suddenly all too aware that the chemists were still within earshot, and that some of them were perfectly virtuous young women, and it was not in anyone’s interests to have this conversation near polite company. “…well. What is your point, then?”
“My point,” Mustadio grinned, giving Ramza’s shoulder a companionable smack, “Is that this man must’ve done something spectacularly offensive to not live up to your illustrious standard. What’s more, he actually seems to have gotten down your gorget. What in the star’s name did he say?”
“It bears no repeating,” said Ramza, sourly twiddling his finger through the chocobolick, which crumpled by sleep drooped between his eyes. “You may ask our self-proclaimed sky pirate, if you’d like. But I’d much rather he be ignored. That way he will eventually go away.”
Mustadio’s smile faded. His hand slipped from his shoulder. “Sky pirate?”
Ramza barely noticed the change in his machinist’s manner; he was already turning back towards the waterside. “Yes. I thought that was passing strange. If you’re going to be attempting to bother your way into an army you ought to at least lie about having real occupation--”
“It is a real occupation,” said Mustadio. His sounded strangled. This, gave Ramza some pause. He looked back, head tipped with concern.
“What is this?” The color had gone out of Mustadio’s face.
“…if one reads the right texts,” muttered Mustadio. “And if one-- did he say from whence he hailed? That piece he was carrying… should ask for his name. Yes. I’ll do that. He’s probably from the guilds.”
“Mustadio?” asked Ramza. Mustadio was already drifting back, his eyes gone misty, muttering the whole way. “Mustadio!” …there was no helping him now.
Ramza sighed and dropped his hands back to his side. Something told him this ‘Balthier’ was here to stay.
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OH BRAVO
Date: 2007-11-18 03:49 am (UTC)In conclusion I have decided I am going to go buy a PSP this weekend.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 03:56 am (UTC)/giggles uncontrollably
I love fics like this, where all my favorite characters get to have those silly mundane interactions instead of WILD ANGSTING. (Not that I dislike seriousness! It's just, um, pleasant to see Ramza not all angry, betrayed, protective, and/or confused.)
I want a sequel! I want to know what happens next! I AM ACTING LIKE A SPOILED-BRAT ENTITLED FAN AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SLAP ME.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 01:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 11:36 am (UTC)