So here we are then, at the end of your long, long journey. Thoughts, presumably, overflowing in your heart.

As it happens, I also had some few thoughts of my own that I wanted to share – ones that, however selfishly, I couldn’t bear to see drowned out amidst the sea of congratulations on your victory and safe return. And so, ere our journey becomes a faded memory, I wanted to put them into words. But rest assured this is, first and foremost, nothing more than a simple message of thanks, albeit one that I felt could not be left to the mercy of character limits… A few lines could not express what all this has meant to me.

To some, the notion that watching a person I don’t know play a game I have already seen before could inspire this kind of soul-searching is one that might perhaps be deserving of ridicule. Many times in writing this, I thought myself ridiculous for doing so. But I think it’s only natural that a game that deals with big themes should evoke big feelings; a game whose story teaches us to look to the light within. To take one more step. And, of course, to forge ahead.

My earliest memory of your journey is of your battle against Shiva, far back towards the tail end of A Realm Reborn, and seeing your unforgettable reaction to this game at its most theatrical, as the boss phase changed and the music shifted from one genre to another… I also remember how the power went out in the Elven treehouse shortly before the battle, and you had to run downstairs to turn it on again. At the time, the thought that I might have any influence on your playthrough could not have been further from my mind. In truth, having my words perceived by others – or worse, read aloud – was still to me at this point a daunting prospect to say the least. But week by week, as my shyness abated, so did my self-confidence grow, and with it the sense that I might be able to be a small part of your experience after all.

As the weeks turned to months, and the months to years, this so-called ‘Final Fantasy Friday’ gradually came to be a part of my world – a constant, reassuring thing that I would eagerly look forward to in order to see me through the week. My anticipation however, was immediate, and from the very first my thoughts were fixated on all the things that the future would have in store for you. Oh, how I would idly daydream about your reactions to this cutscene, or that music track, about your reactions to the trailer for Heavensward, then Stormblood, and the rest. Every twist and reveal mapped out in my mind. Barely a week went by that I did not think of the day far in the future that I would be able to stand beside you in that field of Elpis flowers, and with elation in my heart bid the final curtain fall. Predictably, like so many things, that moment came all too quickly.

And to my immense surprise, I would also come to anticipate the fun, creative, and (so I liked to think) helpful ways that I could participate each week as well – every Friday an opportunity to give advice, an explanation, a small gift here and there – and it wouldn’t be long before I found myself furtively making meaningless spreadsheets or researching the next Good Stopping Point while I was supposed to be working. But what I could never have anticipated was all the times I would have the privilege of fighting alongside you, overcoming trial after trial with like-minded comrades in battles that eclipsed even my own first-time experiences in their grandeur; to go from being too shy to say anything at all, to leading your party? I could scarcely believe it. And yet, for all my new-found confidence, still there were the whisperings of doubt – my every contribution accompanied by a pang of guilt, and a concern that my enthusiasm was intruding on the experiences of others more deserving… And I would console myself with the fact that this was the only place I had where I could share the thing that meant so much to me, and that surely, just this once, no one would mind.

But to say that seeing your tale to a triumphant conclusion has for this entire time been my singular, guiding purpose would be a tragic admission indeed. Better then, perhaps, to instead say that it has felt like the culmination of every Gil or tomestone that I have spent or earned, and every ounce of knowledge that I have gained since I started my own journey over a decade ago. Either way, what’s not an exaggeration is to say that, for nearly five years now, one night a week in particular (most weeks, at least) has been one of the great pleasures and one of the great joys of my life as, through you, I re-lived the sorrows and the triumphs; the tales of loss, and fire, and faith. And, while I don’t like to congratulate myself… I’ll have you know, I’ve not missed a single week.

Yet those ephemeral things I mention seem like a fair price to pay for all that you’ve given me in return.

Memories of surprising and bewildering you with a flying bed, and of making for you your iconic Red Mage coat. Memories of a nerve-wracking meeting with Wisps for the first time in London. Memories of the pride I felt when you attended your first media tour. Memories of your delight at seeing your Free Company house transform into the home of your dreams. Memories of my first ever concert enjoyed with friends at Distant Worlds. Memories of our hard-won clashes against a sorcerer of eld, against mankind’s final hope, and against the embodiment of despair. And, who could forget, soon-to-be memories of finally attending a Fan Festival of my very own. These are the gifts that you have given me – not just these memories, but also the feeling that my time in this game had meant something greater beyond my own enjoyment. The feeling that I had found my voice again, and that my words could have the power to guide. And, for the first time in far too long a time, the feeling of having found meaningful friendships, with people whom I can say that I love; in other words, the feeling that my journey had been a good one. That it had been worthwhile.

But this moment is bittersweet too, for as your tale ends, so does mine. I will watch the journeys of others, of course, but to have been able to show someone this life-changing story and shape their journey with my own words and actions is a chance that will never come again. While some may be moving on to the next adventurer, for me this has been both the very first and the very last time – it is nothing less than a dream fulfilled, and every moment was precious. But more than that, I feel like I have achieved the impossible, and played this game for the first time again. So to that end, above anything else I could possibly have to say, I want to thank you, for allowing me to be a part of your journey, and for lending me your trust. But I also ask your forgiveness, for it was a journey that was not mine to shape.

Although… I speak as if it is THE end – as if this were a final farewell – when we all know that couldn’t be further from the truth. Our journey so far may be a memory, but your journey goes on, and you have so much more to see and do… To hear, to feel, and to think. A whole new continent to explore, and all the journeys after that besides (so many spreadsheets to make!). And, inspired by your heroism, you even have some brand new Warriors of Light to call upon – brave souls who embarked upon their own journeys purely for a chance to join you at your side, and in doing so found their own reasons to fight… A new tale is about to begin, with new parts for all to play. I simply wish that, wherever your journey takes you, and whatever the future looks like, there will still occasionally be a small part for me to play somewhere.

So I hope you’ll forgive me this moment of selfishness. And while I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged… Promise me you’ll take me on your next adventure. A journey. Together. That’s all I ask.