You always remember your first, and Final Fantasy IX was my first. Until I crossed paths with Zidane and his rag-tag team of ruffians, I had no idea just how immersive, impressive and ultimately influential video games could be. I’ve harped on for days about how IX is undoubtedly the best in the series, and I’ve spoken at equal length about how it’s a masterpiece of its genre too. Today I’m going to do the unthinkable and actually take some time to criticize it.
Or at least try to. I can’t promise anything.
Roughly half-way through the first disc of Final Fantasy IX, the team are thrust into a political conflict that sees them traveling on foot from one kingdom to another. In typical Final Fantasy fashion, this involves some decision making; should one take the time to level build in preparation for what’s to come or plough on through to the plot and hope for the best? How about the side quests that open up once the world map is revealed? Oh, what treasures must lie beneath the surface of its earth! As a twenty-something man-child I’ve replayed Final Fantasy IX more times than I’ve eaten hot breakfasts and although I’ve come to love its many quest threads, as a youth I was impatient and impetuous; traits which would lead me to two weeks of frustration and relentless groaning at the hands of Master Gizamaluke.
Freya, one of the main characters, refers to Gizamaluke as ‘Master’ as you travel through his Grotto on the way to Burmecia, which makes it all the more surprising when he turns out to be a giant serpentine snake creature and even more surprising again when he turns his giant 
serpentine snake creature anger on you. What the hell, man? We came here to help, get your priorities straight. Those black mages aren’t going to kill themselves. Unless they are, maybe, they were kind of stupid.
Anyway, Giz’s got skills, and his skin is made of tougher stuff than I was expecting at the time. As I write this, I’m realizing that the specifics of my trouble with Gizamaluke are evading my memory, possibly because I’ve repressed the whole sorry experience. I know he had a sweeping attack that hit everyone at once, and I remember that one of Freya’s moves healed him, which I didn’t realize for the first 5 or 6 shots I took at it but that’s really about it. Suffice to say each attempt on my part to take him down was thwarted swiftly and comprehensively. So much so that I gave in. I caved. I put on the darkest hoodie I had, snook off to the shopping centre early one Sunday morning , bought the official Final Fantasy IX strategy guide and hung my head in shame as I slinked out of the store hoping to god no one would see me.
Good thing too; turns out to beat Gizamaluke you have to throw a tent at him. Because of course you do. That makes perfect sense. Even forgetting that tents are usually healing items, even if you’re ignorant to the fact that when used in the field they inflict all kinds of horrid status ailments on the target, even if you’ve never heard the words ‘final’ and ‘fantasy’ in the same sentence before and assume that a playstation is some kind of robotic masturbation device, throwing a tent on Gizamaluke makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Jesus, what the hell, Squaresoft? Honestly.
Anyway, once the tent puts darkness on him he can’t hit you with his big stupid snake tail so the fight becomes a hell of a lot easier. I had him beaten within 10 minutes with the help of the strategy guide, which definitely didn’t leave me bitter about forking out twenty quid for it. Not at all. It was absolutely full of useful information and went down in my purchase history as a genuinely brilliant idea that I would never regret and it definitely didn’t turn out to be the worst strategy guide of all time or anything.
All that said, I blame no one but myself. I was a fool. Had I prepared as the game wanted me to, as all Final Fantasy fans truly know they should, by grinding for three days after every major plot point, I could have been spared this humiliation.
And Final Fantasy IX is still the best.
