Legend of Mana: Why I Cry

Earlier this week I scrolled down the Facebook feed of my personal page and saw SquareEnix was running a sale on certain games that they publish that are on the PS Store. One of those happened to be Legend of Mana, my favorite game ever. (I mean EVER because that will never change. It hasn't since I first played it many, many years ago.) I bought it right away, downloaded it, and hit play...

As soon as I got to the opening cinematic, tears welled up in my eyes. While I do have a working copy for the Playstation One, I was playing this for the first time on my PS Vita. This was also the first time in years that I was starting a completely new play through and not a secondary run with my old file.

There was so much nostalgia and adventure to a game that's held up decently for all these years.

I went through the motions of the first few minutes of game play and placed the first world on the map.
Unlike other video games, the levels aren't already in the game on the world map. Different characters give you what are known as artifacts, simple objects that contain the memories of the people who've been there and lived. You then place the artifacts on the world map and they spring to life. Things like "Colorful Blocks" make the town of Domina where you begin; the "Trembling Spoon" creates the Underworld, where one of the major quests starts and ends; and "The Wheel" makes a Highway where one of the first boss fights happen.

For years, this concept has resonated with me because your character is essentially an author in their own way. They create these worlds, visits them, and receives bits of a story within them and is then sent to resolve the story themselves. You save an entire race, fight demons, stop the resurrection of a dark emperor, and then can do something as simple as reunite two best friends. The stories are limitless.

Despite having seen most if not all of the stories captured within that one game, I still love to replay it and re-experience everything within.

One thing I have taken noticed is how the stories have aged with me all this time. For example, one quest has you help two star-crossed lovers sell homemade lamps to Dudbears (think mole people). In the process you learn to speak their language which, in the pre-internet days of the my youth, I HAD to write down every single time to make sure I could advance properly. Once completed, the star-crossed lovers gaze into the night sky and realize they aren't meant for one another.

How has this changed with me? Easy. When I was younger, this was always a chore for me to do a quest that had NO combat, NO exploration, and NO comedy (the game is pretty devoid of that anyway.) I always hated writing down the Dudbear words, repeating them, and then having to watch a cutscene about the lovers. *BLECH*

But today was different. I did the quest today and actually sat through the un-voiced dialogue. I read it carefully and fully, and watched the scene truly unfold to me.
I realized two things now in my time:
Gilbert was a flippant jerk for saying he 'loved' someone and then trying to trample their dreams. He wants to treat Monique, the girl he 'loves', like a statue: well taken care of, but without emotion or dreams or cares.
Monique was more dedicated to her artwork of making lamps rather than actually loving Gilber, and she was happier for her artwork. She was appreciated for what she did and what she was rather than what she could be.

The second hit me more than anything considering all the struggles I, or any artist living for the art, goes through.

In the end, I look forward to fully realizing more of the stories in the game and seeing how they've change now that I'm ten years older.