The first of the worst
Shane began to watch yet another Final Fantasy commercial.
Many reporters were gathered around the inside of a courtroom. The judge looked at a small child sympathetically while he spoke his piece. "Well, I had just gone to bed late last night because I was watching TV. As always, I heard my parents yelling and arguing at each other. Then, I heard a loud thump. The arguing stopped, and I was afraid. I heard footsteps coming down the hall, so I pretended to be asleep. My dad looked into my room to see if I was asleep, and I was very scared. The next morning, I asked my dad where mommy was. He said she had taken a little vacation. Then, I played FF12." The child held up the Final Fantasy box of which he spoke. The jury stood up and clapped.
Stumble! Mike rubbed his butt.
"Ouch! This place is the suckZ0rs! I've been hurt this way at least-" Mike stopped in mid-sentence as he observed eight beady eyes staring at him motionlessly. "Oh yeah, you guys must be those four people I picked in the Ansem-esque place." He pointed his finger to each one respectively. "White Mage, Thief, Monk, and Warrior. Just like in FF1..." Mike finally grasped the connection. "Oh, now I get it! This IS FF1! What did the speaker phone tell me to do again?" Mike unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and read the details therein. "Fix one thing, eh? Sure, that'll be easy. I could think of a million for this here piece of crap." A million thoughts buzzed throughout Mike's head: Voice acting, better graphics, personality... I won't continue. Let's just say it was long, much so. Mike observed his surroundings.
Many people crowded the 8-bit streets of this forsaken town, namely people who had some obvious piece of advice, or even dancers who flipped their legs up and down while remaining motionless. Pots crowded around houses for no apparent reason other than to yield their spoils to the common looter. "Awesome!" Mike pulled out a potion. "Woot." Mike realized that his group of mates was still lurching behind him. "Oh yeah, you're supposed to follow me huh? Well, Apparently these pots are full of things. Go take some stuff from them and meet me back when you're finished."
More stares. "Well, do it!" Everlasting stares. "You guys are retarded." Never-ending stares? Mike continued to do everything himself. After a minute or so, Mike had stumbled upon two more potions, a stick, a sword, crack, and some gold. (gil, GP? I dunno.) "Whatever this is, It's gold. Well, I suppose I should take you guys shopping to see if I can make you suck less." And with that, they headed towards some shops like a goth in a Hot Topic.
Ring went the bell as Mike pounded on it with his balled-up 8-bit fist. "Oh yeah, You're right here, all the time, aren't you?"
"Welcome to my magic shop! Is there anything you would want to purchase?" A menu appeared out of nowhere as Mike beheld fire, thunder, and ice.
"Oh yeah, I have to buy my stupid magic spells as opposed to learning them like a smarty-farty? Heh heh, farty."
"Will that be all?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, if you sell these things, why don't you yourself use them? I mean, you do have an unlimited supply, right? Heck, you could learn everything for free if you so desired."
"Welcome to my magic shop! Is there anything you would like to purchase?" The menu climatically made it's entrance once again.
"Gosh you're stupid. I don't even have a black mage in my party. Bye."
"Will that be all?" A slammed door was his reply. Speaking repeated lines over was this humble shopkeeper's fate, he knew that. But this ignorant customer had sparked something within him he had never thought of before. His stock was unlimited. What was to stop him from being a great wizard? What was to withhold him from being the greatest? Thinking quickly, he managed to use his inventory to power him. You see, this shopkeeper had the amazing ability to own every magic shop simultaneously across the world! Or, this world anyway. This humble seller of magic went merrily to every shop he owned and increased his magical prowess little by little...
"You lifeless party members, I'm going to bed. Falling down repeatedly has left me pretty tired, and I'm going to the inn." Mike did this. For an unbelievably cheap price, Mike managed to get a room for five. Mike began to fluff his sprightly pillow as the other seemed to know exactly where they were sleeping.
"Well, whadayya know, I must've slept for 24 hours because this day looks pretty familiar." In reality, he had slept for only ten seconds, but he certainly felt rejuvenated.
"Come on my peeps, I'm gonna teach you all how to talk." Mike stepped out of the inn door and beheld something of catastrophic proportions. The sky grew blacker, with cinematic lightning flashing under it's clouds. Where there were once townspeople lay only dust and some skeletons. Mike guffawed at this unholy sight. "What the heck? What buttmunch made this mess?" Mike cautiously made his way to the center of the town to what else, find out what the problem was. Sure enough, there stood a big white tower right in front of him. "Well, that solves that. I guess you guys are good enough for your first dungeon." With some ambiguous faith, Mike and his four stalkers stepped in.
What appeared to be a tower was actually a single room with some primitive torches on the walls. A big, armor-clad villain gave orders to some goblins beside his throne. He gasped when he saw Mike and his trio (+1) enter in.
"Welcome to my magic shop!" Mike began to feel as if he were on drugs as his vision seemed to blur. He then appeared in a black background with a big black line separating he and his comrades from this titan of terror. There was some cheesy music there too.
"Wait, I know what this is, it's a fight! Wait, poop, I'm unarmed!" With a flash of pixels, Lightning three was cast as it killed the monk. Mike never liked him anyway. "White Mage, revive him!" He did this, although he was still pretty weak for a conscious guy. Fire three was cast on the white mage, and she died too. "Crap, now I can't heal! Warrior, beat him up!" With a futile bonk, the sword did 0 damage. Ice three was cast on the warrior for his insolence. The notorious villain then bonked the monk out of his misery. "Ah, run away!" Mike and the thief kicked their legs up and down while remaining stationary, until at last they escaped out of the screen.
Mike hurriedly ran with the thief to a crumbled rock after the battle. "You suck! That was pathetic!" The thief stared at him with the same blankness Mike had grown to ignore. Now he's just ticked. "How in Hades are we supposed to kill him?" Mike rummaged around his sack for something, anything that could make the situation better. Potions, sword, sticks, money. The lord of war certainly wouldn't take a bribe. Speaking of which, the evil villain had now gone back to managing his little army of goblin servants. "Well, at least he's not paying attention to us." Mike continued his rummaging until at last the gears in his head began to cake free from their rust. Quietly, mike used the sword to pick at the wood of the stick until at last it looked similar to a crude blowgun. Next, he Broke off the tip of the sword with his stick. Finally, He dipped the broken tip into the illegal green powder he had found a while back. He then handed his invention to the thief. "You're assasin-ish, put the arrow in the blow gun and fire when this guy removes his helmet. When he does, aim for his neck, got it?"
The blank stare was only too confirming. Mike peered over the top of the rock to see what he was doing. The Lord of Evil was now yelling at a goblin for his incompetent masculinity. He lifted his helmet and tried to spit on his face. "Thief, now!" The thief blew through the weapon and the aim was dead-on. Wait a second, Mike recognized this guy, he was that dang shopkeeper! Mike gasped when he learned what monster he had created. The keeper of shops at first got a dreamy look on his face, then drunk, then not so sober, then vomiting, then dead. The goblins fled from their minimum wage posts back to their caves.
"Woot! Yesyesyesyes YEEESSSSSSSS!" Mike was about to celebrate before he realized what he had to do. A portal began to open in front of him, and like a magical walkie-talkie, a voice echoed throughout the dimly lit throne room. "Good job, Mike. It seems you have managed to fix something in this close to perfection game."
"Pffft. Whatever. Killing that guy was an improvement, I have to say."
"Not that you idiot, giving the characters the ability to think for themselves, developing a personality. The shopkeeper was an example of that."
"Then why in heck didn't you send me to the next friggin' game then?"
"Well, I wanted you to die."
"Okay, now that's just not fair. I demand some compensation for this."
"Fine, watch the fruit of your labors."
"Huh?" Mike looked around only to notice his blue-haired thief had vanished. "Where'd he go?"
"He went out to pickpocket, like all thieves should. He too has developed a unique personality."
"Aww, that's so sweet. Now gimme some compensation."
"Fine, go through this stupid portal and I'll give it to you."
"Good." Mike stepped through this portal, but not before a tear escaped his eye for his thief, who is still jaywalking to this very day.