Imagine, if you will, a rather dingy-looking gray trailer, with the words Staf Room painted on its door. Perhaps the second f has rubbed off, or someone didn't know how to spell staff, or maybe just ran out of paint. Through the door there is a coffee pot, a plastic table, a less-than-comfortable couch, and a few of those folding chairs that are ergonomically designed to be as ugly as is physically possible.
Sitting at the table is a tall man in a suit, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. He is interrupted by the sudden appearance of what can only be described as a monster. Or maybe a boss monster, but that's beside the point.
"I don't believe it..." the monster says, in a surprisingly whiny voice. "I simply can't believe it. I've just beaten them again. I didn't even use my strong attacks. I just sat there. I only hit one at a time, and the Soul Fires didn't possess anyone. I rigged the fight and they still lost. I just don't understand how anyone can be that pathetic." So saying, the boss steals the coffee pot, and disappears just in time for the Staf Room door to bang open. Three very angry people, or to be more precise, two very angry people and one angry cat storm through.
"I don't believe it!" they chorus. The blonde man heads straight for the only other door, while the cat and the woman head for the chair.
"This has got to be the worst player in the history of gaming," says the woman, her long dark brown hair waving as she shakes her head. "Five times in a row they've lost. Five."
"I'm the only one with a Cure materia," sighs the cat, who seems to be in a sort of trance. "The only one. And every time. Every Time, they stick me into flipping Howling Moon and I can't use it."
"I think howling at the moon is starting to get to him." Whispers the woman conspiratorially as the cat subsides into muttering from which the words "every time" and "only one" can be heard.
"and really, we'd be all right if they'd just use the high potions. I swear, we're lugging around about fifty of the things, and they'll never use them. What are they saving them for? Pretty soon they'll be as useless as those potions we've been choking down."
As she finishes speaking the door is flung open and the blonde man emerges.
"It's not so bad for you," he cries. "A least you die right away. But no, I'm at least five levels higher than the next best person, so I'm always the last one alive, and if I somehow win, I'm the only one that gets exp., thus continuing a vicious cycle. And with this fight, I just sit there, drinking my potions, and watching my health drop by inches."
"Hey," snaps the cat. "At least you don't have to say anything. If I have to scream Father! One more time..."
"Well at least you're doing something!" snaps the woman back. "I just sit there, then enter battle, sit there some more and die. Then wake up and have to sit some more. Do you have any idea how boori-"
All four in the Staf Room break off and cock their heads, as though trying to hear some faint noise.
"They've turned it off; thank God, sighs the blonde man as he sinks into the less-than-comfortable couch. Silence sinks slowly over the room, interrupted by the brunette asking, "Hey, aren't you not even in the party yet? Why are you here?"
"Regulations stipulate that I be on the premises if I am within a half-hour being reached," replies the tall man primly. "Though it sounds as though I'll be here for a while, at this rate."
"So, you are being paid to sit here out of uniform, drink coffee and read the newspaper?" asks the cat incredulously. "Next game I want to be an optional character."
The tall man simply smiles smugly and returns to his newspaper. After a few moments, the silence is broken by a plaintive call "Hey, who stole our coffee pot?"