воскресенье, 28 апреля 2013 г.

That Crazy Motomu blog archive

Fun fact: третий пост в этом бложике (после hello world и первого объяснения, почему фф13 - говно) представлял собой ссылку на блог thatcrazymotomu, в котором некто очень креативный писал ад и погибель от лица Ториямы. Вскоре, правда, блог был удален, и даже кэш гугла не спасал.

И вот три года спустя оказывается, что сохраненная копия все-таки существует! nuclearaptor поделился ссылкой, и я на всякий пожарный просто скопирую всё содержание документа сюда. Enjoy!

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Final Fantasy XIII Development Journal

This is every entry from the journal of Motomu Toriyama, writer and director of Final Fantasy XIII, translated into English. This journal was kept over the course of FFXIII's development in order to provide the director an escape from the daunting task of pleasing every single Final Fantasy fan on the planet. It is his personal opinion and does not necessarily reflect the views of Square-Enix, although he does have a good point most of the time.

About Me

Motomu Toriyama

I love what I do, and I do what I love. Hard.

Entry #1: Redefining a Generation
God, I hate FFVII. Stupid piece of shit game had to come along and make my job even harder than it already is. Can you even begin to fathom how annoying it is to hear a thousand people tell you they expect this to be the best FF ever? Do you even know how much pressure that is? No wonder Matsuno had a nervous breakdown while making FFXII!

All I know is that if I have a breakdown and they let Akitoshi Kawazu anywhere near this game I will murder every single person at Square-Enix with my bare hands. Kawazu, if you're reading this I want you to know one thing, motherfucker: you suck at what you do and I use copies of SaGa Frontier as toilet paper.

God, I don't want to go into work tomorrow.

Entry #2: The Chaotic Existence of the Video Game Designer

Planning on FFXIII began today. Whoop-de-fucking-doo. We discussed character designs, even though Tetsuya Nomura, the character designer, was conspicuously absent, most likely off at a Hot Topic buying belts and zippers.

I'm working with Yoshinori Kitase on this game. Kitase is a personal rival of mine due to the fact that he had a hand in FFVII. Sometimes while he speaks I completely tune him out and imagine exactly how many sleepless nights he must've spent dreaming up the tortured psyches and poignant backstories of Cait Sith or Yuffie. Yeah, great writing there, Yoshi.

And then there's Final Fantasy VIII. What the hell was that all about?

Nevetheless, the point is that Kitase is working on this game with me, which means I'm going to have to try my hardest to keep shit like the orphanage plot twist out of my game.

We didn't accomplish anything today. Maybe when Nomura gets back he'll pitch us his idea of a character composed completely of belts and zippers.

Entry #3: Girls, Girls, Girls

I didn't give Nomura enough credit: the son of a bitch actually came up with a decent design for a main character. Knowing that my fans basically want an FF that surpasses FFVII, I asked him to design a female version of Cloud Strife, the main character of FFVII.

For the next few nights he'd show up at my home, cold and naked and starving, but nevertheless clutching tightly to his softcore hentai depictions of a female Cloud Strife.

"Good god, man," I would say to him, "what the hell kind of game do you think we're designing here? Do I look like Kitase to you? Fuck no I don't, and I would kill myself if I did."

"But he's working on this game," he would say. "Kitase's working on this game."

And I would backhand him as hard as I could. I wouldn't just do it once or twice, and I wouldn't stop until he had been reduced to tears on my kitchen floor.

"I am not letting Kitase get his seed anywhere near this game. He's only here so that the fans can sleep well at night knowing that an FFVII staff member is working on this game, nothing more. Now I want you to get home and work on these designs. And why the hell don't you ever have any clothes on when you come here? The neighbors must think I'm a freak."

Nomura was shaken, but ultimately he realized it was for the best and changed his approach. The next day he returned with his design and it was extraordinary. It was Cloud, but female, exactly what I had wanted.

Kitase thought up the name "Thunder" for her character. Not wanting his seed anywhere near the game, I changed it to "Lightning."

Don't ever let anyone fucking tell you I can't design games.

FFX-2 doesn't count.
hey X-2 was actually pretty good.

the battle system was real fuckin good.
Well, at least someone sees the genius of my tortured soul.

Entry #4: Snowballs

Now that we had an attractive lead female character, our game was set. Despite whatever went wrong during development, we knew people would pour money into Square's lap to play as Lightning's fine ass in HD on the PS3. Man, this game was going good. I was on top of the world.

But it wasn't enough for Square. No, it never is.

They insisted that we have more than one character and that the character be a male to balance out the amount of estrogen this game was receiving. I'm sure that was a subtle dig at our manhood and not just a nod at Lightning, but who gives a rat's ass what Square's executives think?

They told me they'd bring in Kawazu if I refused and within five minutes I was sitting with Kitase and Nomura in the drawing room thinking up a design for a new male character.

Incidentally, Nomura had all these fashion magazines lying around. He said they helped him with ideas for clothes, but I'm pretty sure that all his characters were directly ripped from the pages of that JC Penney catalog. Nomura was the worst type of person, he had no qualms about taking things from others.

Case in point: I walked in here with three pens and am leaving with a half. And no, it's not the half with the tip. Not only can I no longer write this masterpiece of interactive entertainment, but Nomura's walking around with at least three and a half pens and telling people, "Hey, look at how serious of a designer I am: I carry all these pens because it makes me legit. You can break my balls when you get this many pens."

I have zero respect for Nomura, and while Lightning's design may have wooed me for a little bit it definitely wasn't enough for me to overlook the glaring flaws in his humanity.

But regardless of Nomura's ineptitude, he was able to provide a sketch of a character he pulled from the winter fashion section of the catalog. It was a damn good-looking character, and since Nomura had pulled it from the winter section, I decided to name him "Snow". Just by looking at the design I could already see the yaoi rolling off the presses.

We were doing something huge, and we were doing it right.

Square loved his design. What they didn't notice was this: pissed at Square and wanting to get back at them, I had Nomura insert small penis designs all over Snow's coat. They're nothing you'd notice at first glance, or even after five minutes. That's because the actual stitching of his coat was made up of little penis-shaped loops of thread!

How genius is that?

Entry #5: Your Dark Soul With Light

I'm sure you guys reading this are asking yourselves this question:

"Hey, Motomu, you're a beast of a designer, and these characters you created are phenomenal, but why are you developing them before you even have a plot ready?"

That's because, despite the Square executives' protest, we're trying something different this time. Kitase can get on his knees and blow me all he wants but I'm still not going to change my view on this: we're going to shape the story to the characters.

This entire world, this entire game, will be directly linked to the characters. They will be like fucking gods. It's not all too different from the way I live my life. This world was designed for me, after all, by the greatest designer in history: Cthulu.

Anyway, this approach has helped me draft a basic plot that I believe is very good. Brace yourselves, this is exclusive info straight from the big Moto himself.

The plot is going to center around a world called Throb and a floating city called Pod. The world of Throb is a savage place run by hard-bodied, sex-crazed Amazonian women. In order for the men to actually get any damn work done, they created Pod: a city encased in a giant cocoon-type thing that floats above Throb like a moon.

But then things go wrong. Due to a fuck-up in Pod's orbit, all the women on Throb begin menstruating at the same time, and this leads to total chaos on Throb. Eventually, the Pod government decides they need to send some men in to calm the women, but the men never return, and Throb descends into a further state of chaos without men to guide it.

Yes, this commentary may not be very subtle, but I don't give a rat's ass. I had an argument with my wife about five minutes before drawing up this plot and I don't feel like changing it now. Incidentally, the plots of many previous FFs were conceived the same way, but that's a different subject.

Anyway, as you can guess, Lightning and Snow get caught up in this and an epic journey ensues. You can probably guess the ending. Whatever. Moto out.

P.S.: Expect at least an adult rating on this one. I'm not letting Square compromise my artistic vision for anything, even if they give me more money than I can imagine.

Entry #6: Actually...

Scratch that. Throb's name is now Pulse, and Pod is now Cocoon, both names thanks to Kitase! I love that guy!

And this will be rated for teenagers, I guarantee it!

LOL, holy hell they gave me a lot of money!!

Entry #7: Political Action

This is off the subject of the game a little, but I swear I just saw Nomura put his mouth on the water fountain. Direct contact. As soon as I turn the corner I see his ugly blond head and he's sucking the water down like he's trying to get the poison out.

And it makes me wonder: is this the first time?

I called Wada, the Square-Enix president, and asked him to send some personal janitors down here to decontaminate this thing immediately. Wada told me to shut up and keep working on the game or he'd send Kawazu to turn it into Final Fantasy II.

I decided that I'd take matters into my own hands and talk to Nomura. I invited him to my office, hoping that by the end of it I could fix every flaw in his character. But I was wrong.

He showed up 30 minutes late to start, telling me he was buying silk blazers and pens. You already have pens, you metro motherfucker, I thought, you stole two and a half of them straight from me.

To top this off he showed up without pants. When I mentioned this he cussed out loud and told me he thought the shredder hadn't gotten the entire thing.

When I tried to steer the conversation to the topic of the water fountain, he kept bringing up the picture of my wife, which I had sitting on my desk. Throughout our conversation he kept rubbing himself and asking me what her hobbies were, or what food she liked.

This began to make me sick, so I told him to leave. I had tried to be benevolent and merciful, but this guy was the biggest douchebag I had ever met in my life. I turned my back and said that if he wasn't gone when I turned around, I would fire him.

I heard the door close and turned back around. He was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then noticed that the picture of my wife was gone as well.

Entry #8: Radically Different

Square is pestering us again to create another character. They say two isn't enough, because all past FFs have had at least four.

I received this message in a memo, and decided to call up Wada personally.

"This isn't like other FFs," I told him. "We're doing things differently. This game is going to be radical, and genre-defining."

"So how does that relate to the number of characters?" he asked.

I laughed. Hard. Of course he wouldn't understand. He was no designer. All he did all day was sit in the comfort of his gold-plated office atop Mt. Fuji and dispense orders to make him more money. He had never worked as a designer for a single day of his life.

He hadn't felt the brutal pain of carpal tunnel from rushing to finish programming the final boss battle ten seconds before release day. He hadn't felt the blistering heat of the dev room when the air con breaks down and you're stuck in there with 300 Japanese men sweating like pigs.

I mean, this guy rides a Chocobo to work. A fucking Chocobo. He has so much money that he paid scientists to bio-engineer him a motherfucking Chocobo. It's the only one that exists on the planet and right now it's sitting in his office probably eating Gysahl Greens, which he also had bio-engineered and grows in the Square-Enix parking lot.

So with all this in mind, I laughed, and I said: "Guess what, Wada, you motherfucker, I'm only designing these two characters. You can bitch all you want, but this FF is going to be different, and radical, and I'm not having some spineless bastard like you ruin my artistic vision."

And I hung up, feeling like I had just tackled a mountain and won.

I could not have forseen the apocalyptic events that were to come.

Entry #9: A Wild Kawazu Appears

I woke up this morning feeling invincible. I had an interview at noon, so I made myself a breakfast of fried onions to make sure my breath was suitably offensive and went on my way.

I managed to wow the interviewer with the radically different direction FFXIII was taking. He was so impressed he told me if I could send him an advance copy. I said I could if he gave me his wallet, which he did.

I had lied, and won.

Anyway, after the interview I headed over to Square-Enix to continue working on the game. I walked into the dev room and saw everyone crowded around a single computer.

"What's going on?" I asked them.

"Kawazu-san is programming this entire game by himself!"

I froze. Kawazu? No. Dear Cthulu, no.

I pushed through the crowd and saw it with my own eyes: Akitoshi Kawazu, the guy who made the games I use to wipe my asshole was programming my game.

He had changed everything. He said Lightning looked too girly, and that the battle system was broken because you couldn't level up by attacking yourself. But what baffled me even more was that all my programmers loved him! They loved his games! They were glad he was making it more like SaGa and FFII!

I was sick to my stomach. I went to go complain to Kitase, but he told me that Wada had put him on the project and demoted me to catering and food services!

Everybody was against me!

So I sat in my office all day watching Kawazu get all the love for programming a piece of shit, while my tortured artistic mind went to waste doodling nude sketches of Snow in the dark. I had been torn from my throne as the director and thrown down into being their personal cook. I was devastated.

Night fell and all the programmers had gone home. Kawazu came into my office before he left and said, while winking, "Later, alligator."

I saw him walking to his car from my office window. He apparently saw me watching because he looked up at me and yelled, "Later, alligator!"

And he winked.

Kitase also stopped in before going home and told me to make the food good for tomorrow. I flipped him off as he walked away and hoped he didn't see me or he'd have Wada knock me down to janitor.

I need a way to take my game back. There was only one way to do that: I needed to apologize to Wada.

Would I do it, or...would I strike out on my own as a solo artist?

Entry #10: Welcome to Moto-Burger

Today is my first day on catering duty. I've decided that until I can reclaim my position as unofficial demi-god of Square-Enix (aka director of Final Fantasy XIII), I'm going to devote myself fully to this job.

I have to be there an ungodly eight hours earlier than I usually did for my director job. So at exactly noon I'm setting up my folding table and putting out the dishes I've prepared. Oh, Cthulu, are they nice. I've set up cheese platters consisting of -- well, cheese, but different types of it. I've got cheddar and swiss and mozerella, and even goat cheese.

My platters are beautiful. I've arranged one into a beautiful landscape complete with mountains and a peaceful lake. Another one's arranged to form a beautiful sunset. This is exquisite stuff, simply beautiful.

I'm just standing there admiring my work when I see a hand disrupt everything.

"Hey, there, alligator -- ooh, cheddar! I love cheddar!"

I look up and see Kawazu stuffing his inept mouth with my cheese and winking at me. He's the kind that chews with his mouth open, unsurprisingly. I guess he doesn't care who he disgusts by letting the chewed mass in his mouth remain visible. I wouldn't expect him to give a fuck, though, considering his games really seem like they don't either.

In seconds he's torn up my sunset platter and is moving onto the mountain/lake platter. He reaches out his hairy hands towards the plate to grab another fistful when I grab his pencil wrist and stop him.

"Don't fucking touch my cheese," I tell him.

He just looks at me weird, and then he laughs, showing cheese caked in all the gaps between his teeth, spraying me with cheddar-scented saliva.

"Hey, there, alligator," he winks, "I thought you were catering this for the dev team. You know, the V.I.P.'s? Give me some!"

He reaches his disgusting hand out again and I stop him once again.

"What part of 'don't fucking touch my cheese' didn't you understand?" I say to him.

"Whoa, alligator," he says, taking on a serious tone for once, "calm down. I'm just hungry because I didn't have breakfast this morning."

"I'll tell you what, if you're so hungry why don't you go eat a DICK."

I manage to successfully ward off Kawazu, who goes back to raping the quality of my game while some other programmers come up to get cheese. I let them have some, because I need to get on their good side. I ask all of them if they'll help me take my game back, but they all say they don't want to lose their jobs by going up against Wada.

What the hell kind of team is this anyway? They love Kawazu but won't help their shamed director? Wada probably hired them for that exact reason. Spineless bastard. I wouldn't be surprised if him and Kawazu are fucking on the side.

As night rolls around I pack up my food and folding table and head out to my car to load it into the trunk. As I'm struggling to lift everything into the trunk I see Kawazu and Nomura walk out of the building together, talking.

"Hey, there, alligator," Kawazu says to me and winks, "wanna get some drinks with me and Tetsuya? We're having the deepest conversation right now!"

Dealing with Kawazu and Nomura? Oh, fuck this.

I shut my trunk and climb into my car without even answering, peeling out of the parking lot at top speed.

Entry #11: Winning the Rainbow

I'm a genius. I've finally come up with a way to get my job back.

I came up with this after I stayed up all night crying and pleasuring myself to some female Cloud sketches Nomura left here a while back, using my tears as a lubricant. It hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Immediately leaving my business unfinished I ran out to my car and drove over to Kawazu's house. I rang his doorbell.

He opened the door and said, "Hey, there, alligator," and winked.

And I popped him in the face.

Next I headed over to Wada's house and rang the doorbell. Wada came to the door in a silk bathrobe, looking quite irritated.

"What the hell are you doing here, Motomu?" he snarled. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

I looked behind him and saw several women performing an action involving a bottle of lotion and a Chocobo. He stepped in front of me to block my view.

"What the hell is it?!"

"Sir, I've got a great idea for the game!"

He sighed and facepalmed. "Look, I don't care. You're out, you're the caterer now. Go home and start cooking for tomorrow."

"No, sir, I guarantee you'll give me my job back after I tell you this idea."

He stared at me for a while and then sighed. "Okay, what is it?"

"You've played FFVII, right? Remember how there was a character in there so stereotypical and offensive and pointless that he gave the game a bad name from certain groups of people?"

He scrunched up his face and gasped. "Cait Sith! Oh, god, that fucking bastard! I still don't know what in God's name Kitase was thinking when he pulled that out of his ass!"

"No!" I yelled. The women in the back turned to look at me, and I waved. "No, I'm talking about Barret. I have an idea to put a black guy in FFXIII, to get some 'street cred' and maybe net an award nomination for our sensitive portrayal of the African-American race."

He stared at me blanky. "What the hell is street cred going to help us with? This game is called fucking Final Fantasy! Do you think some gangsta-ass mothafucka in Compton is going to sit down and play through a game called fucking Final Fantasy?! Why the hell are you wasting my time with this shit?! I was so close to getting this Choc -- woman off and you had to break my combo!"

"How can you not think this is a good idea, sir?!" I yelled. "It's brilliant! We can't lose!"

He scoffed and said, "As long as Kawazu is alive you're not getting back on this game. Maybe that'll teach you not to fuck with motherfucking Yoichi Wada ever again! Straight talk, bitch!!"

With that, he shut the door in my face. I would've given up hope there, but the last thing he said was still ringing in my head: as long as Kawazu is alive, I can't touch this game.

Oh, man, this is gonna be sweet.

Entry #12: Japanese Psycho

I rolled up in front of Kawazu's house at around 4 AM. I must've decked him pretty good because he was still sitting on his doorstep with a bag of bloody kleenex at his feet.

He looked up at me as I walked up. "Whoa, alligator," he said, holding a tissue to his nose, "what the fuck was up with the punch?"

"Sorry about that," I said. "Let me make it up to you. Come to my place for drinks."

In fifteen minutes he was sitting in my living room while I was laying newspaper out across the carpet.

"Hey, alligator," he said, "why are you putting pages of the Styles section all over the floor? You got a dog or something? A little chow?" He laughed.

"No, Kawazu," I said.

After laying down the newspaper I walked into the bathroom, pulling a raincoat out of the closet and putting it on. I also reached towards the back and withdrew an axe.

I hid the axe from Kawazu and placed it on the kitchen counter. "You like Huey Lewis?" I asked him.

I crossed over to the stereo and put it on full blast.

"In 1987 Huey released this, Fore!, their most accomplished album. I think I their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square," a song so catchy that most people probably don't listen to the lyrics."

I walked over to the counter and picked up the axe.

"But they should listen to the lyrics because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends. It's all a personal statement about the band itself. Hey, Kawazu."

Kawazu turned to look at me as I planted the axe right between his eyes. Blood splattered the front of my raincoat and up to my face. Kawazu fell to the floor as I pulled the axe out from his face and I begun to repeatedly hack away at him as he lay on the floor talking about alligators.

"TRY MAKING A SAGA GAME NOW YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTAAARRRRDDD!!"

I kept hacking at him until I was sure he was dead. Then I placed the axe on the ground, removed my raincoat and folded it neatly with the bloody side in, and sat on the couch, lighting a cigar. I crossed my legs and took a puff as I watched the scene, music blasting.

Entry #13: Back to Nomural

I sit back in my chair and put my feet up on the desk. I'm back in my old office. Back to being the director of this masterpiece of interactive entertainment.

Kawazu is dead. His body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. Don't ask me why I went all the way to the United States to dissolve his body, and why I couldn't have just dumped it in the ocean or something if I managed to get out of the country. This is my attempt at a subtle movie reference, and you're going to like it.

But anyway, taking an axe to people's faces isn't usually a great feeling. It's something you do if you really need to. But I'll be damned if Kawazu didn't make it fun.

Guess nobody will be seeing you later, alligator.

Shit, he's got me. I need to recondition myself ASAP.

Anyway, my tone might make you think that being back at the helm means everything is all peaches and orgasms. But it's not. I remember all the things I hated about this job. The long hours, clogged toilets in the bathrooms, Nomura, Kitase, Wada, basically everyone on the development staff. Kawazu being gone doesn't fix any of these things.

Like today, for instance, that jackass Nomura came into my office around 10:00 AM, which is my publicly announced private time. I even hung this sign on my door:

I asked him if he could read and he became extremely defensive. So I believe he might be illiterate. But that's beside the point. He came in with a basket of fruit, which he said he brought to welcome me back. The only thing was that he wasn't sure which fruit I liked, so he filled it with broccoli, which he called "The Fruit of the Gods".

He smiled and asked me if I liked it, and I asked him where the fuck the picture of my wife was. I had it right here on my desk when I called him in a while back, and then when he left it was gone. I told him I knew he had it, and he admitted that he couldn't read, which was somehow supposed to be relevant. When I asked him what that had to do with this he said he didn't know because he couldn't read.

Tired of talking in circles, I told him to leave my office. He told me that he'd make it up to me somehow, and then he walked out.

I glanced at the mug holding my pens and noticed that three and a half of them were missing. That smug kleptomaniac bastard.

Other than that, the day was going great. Everything was fine until Kitase walked in and said he needed to talk to me about Kawazu's death. Apparently it shook him up pretty bad, because he broke down in sobs as soon as he sat down. He kept telling me what a noble man Kawazu was, and how he always looked at life from a comedic perspective.

"There, there," I said. "There, there."

He kept going on and on and on about how Kawazu always made everyone laugh. How he always kept the team inspired and fueled so that they could work all night without detesting it one bit.

"There, there," I said. "There, there."

He told me that the police were searching for Kawazu right now, and how he firmly believed someone had killed him. He said if he ever found out who had done it he would rip the head off their cock and make them pelvic thrust a jar of salt.

With that he got up and left, and I sat there trying to get the image out of my head.

Entry # 14: Bloodhound

Kitase won't let things go. He went to the police about Kawazu's disappearance but they're still treating it as a missing person case rather than a homicide. As a result he went to H-Mart and bought an amateur detective kit to begin his own investigation.

"Kawazu deserves the best equipment," he said to me. "Check this shit out: it's got a pocket magnifying glass, a Spanish-to-English-to-Japanese-to-English-to-Spanish dictionary, one of those miner hats with a light on it, and this!"

He reached into the burlap sack containing everything and withdrew a bottle of silly string.

"You know, to distract your opponents," he said.

"That sack would be more useful if you just filled it with staplers and swung it around," I told him. "That would do a number on somebody."

He immediately straightened up, taking on a whole new air of seriousness. "This isn't a joke, Moto. Kawazu was a beautiful man who was wrenched from this world before his prime. And I'm going to make sure the person who did it burns in hell for the rest of their life."

His eyes welled up with tears and he wiped them on his sleeve.

"There, there," I said. "There, there."

Kitase wasn't at the office all day due to being out investigating, so I had free reign over the game design for once. I decided to turn my idea for a black character into a summon that turned into a motorcycle. Kickass.

At night I locked my office and begun the trek to my car. In the lobby I came across Masashi Hamauzu, the composer for the game.

"Yo, Hama," I said. "How's the music-ness going?"

He stared me down. There was something eerie about him. He stood in the darkest corner of the lobby with his arms crossed. At his feet was a tiny piano, like the one that down syndrome kid from Charlie Brown played. It was surrounded by scoresheets. Apparently he had been writing music.

There were also several burned spoons scattered around, but it was nothing new. It was like this everyday.

"I just composed a thirty-minute suite in g minor," he said, sounding like he wanted to beat the shit out of me. "Am I correct in assuming that you'll make room for it in the game?"

"Hey, man, can't give any details," I said. "It's all up to what the Xbox 360 can take, you know? Disc space and rendering and RROD, all that technical stuff. Don't worry yourself over it. Just keep composing. By the way, why don't you compose in your office?"

"I sold it for spoons and lighters," he said, still with the grim expression on his face.

"Oh," I said.

"Yes," he said gravely.

"Are you happy?" I asked.

"These days I just work on feeling normal," he said.

"Okay...well, I've gotta jet. I'll leave you to your...spoons."

I walked out of there as quickly as possible. As I was pulling out, I glanced back at the lobby window and saw Hamauzu staring out at me, his eyes nothing but cold shells set into a soulless stone visage.

Entry #15: G-Minor

Hamauzu came into my office today. We didn't speak at all. I tried to ignore him, and as a result he just walked around, touching everything and feeling its texture.

When he came across a texture he liked, he would close his eyes, lean his head back, and go, "Ahhh..."

Then he would resume his air of grim severity and continue touching my things.

Truthfully, I was too afraid to tell him to stop. He scares the shit out of me. I don't know what we were thinking when we picked up this guy. Yeah, okay, his music is good, but he's a freak! Uematsu at least cracked open a few beers with the team on his breaks. This guy just runs out to the gas station to buy lighters and spoons. Plus Uematsu had a beast mustache. I've tried growing one like that but it ends up looking like I stapled my pubic hair to my face.

Hamauzu turned to me at one point, but there was still no dialogue exchange. His eyes were still empty glass spheres.

Actually, wait, I lied, he said one word to me:

"Extravaganza."

And then he left.

What in the name of motherfucking Cthulhu was that?!

Entry #16: Philosophy

Kitase is on my ass hard about Kawazu. I suspect he thinks I did it. He just doesn't have enough hard evidence to put me behind bars.

Nevertheless, I should be okay as long as I can keep him from getting anything on me. And should he do that I always have...alternatives.

Damn, Toriyama, that sounded badass.

Anyway, today development continued on this game. I designed a completely unique and intuitive battle system by taking everything about the SaGa series and doing the opposite.

Ohohoho, oh snap.

Yes, I know I rip on that game often, but it's the entire basis for my extreme hatred and eventual murder of Akitoshi Kawazu, so I need to hate it. Plus the battle system in Unlimited SaGa sucked balls. Complete balls.

Goddamn, did you know that Famitsu gave that piece of shit a 31 out of 40? Who did Kawazu blow to get that rating? I guess the same people he blew to get a 40 out of 40 for FFXII.

God, does nobody know how to design games but me? Why does nobody understand the extreme pressure and talent that goes into all of this? I don't get enough appreciation. But I guess that's the life of a video game designer.

The thing is, nobody gets my games. FFX-2 was bashed by critics for not being like FFX and ruining FFX, but I would never imitate that garbage if my life depended on it. I was the event director on FFX, and I can tell you the events were awesome (whatever an event is anyway, I designed them and I still don't even know). But holy shit was the rest of it a steaming pile. I would never bring down the quality or deep-seated philosophy of the gameplay just to "appease the masses".

Sometimes I find it funny that I work for Square-Enix with this mindset, but then I remember how much goddamn money I get from this job and I shut the hell up.

FFXIII will be the greatest piece of anything ever created. Ever. No matter what it is, no matter what you can think of, FFXIII will be better. It will be better than all other video games. It will be better than puppies and kittens and hamsters. It will be better than a morning orgasm achieved through the use of several dozen hard-bodied Asian supermodels.

I have had experience with all of the above and can safely attest to the truth of my claim. This will game will be that good.

But anyway, I should stop here. Nomura just got his belt stuck in the paper shredder and I want to grab my camera before he stops screaming and realizes he can escape by just taking the belt off. kthxbai

Entry #17: Making Do


Shit. Just got a memo from Wada telling us that we need a playable demo for TGS tomorrow. Son of a bitch waited until the last minute to tell me! He knew I barely worked on it what with planning a coup to get my game back and such.

Dammit, this is all so political!

So now I'm sitting here at midnight trying to single-handedly finish up a demo. All the programmers have gone home and I'm coding all the battles, doing all the art, and plagiarizing heavily from Hamauzu's music journal which he may or may not have given Square permission to use.

I need an epic boss battle to close out the demo and I have no ideas! Shit! There's got to be something on this desk here that I could morph into a boss!

A mug? No, that won't work. A nameplate? Dammit, Toriyama, think harder!

I ruffle through the drawers looking for objects that might resemble a boss.

A stapler? Hmm, that'll go in the "maybe" pile.

Paper clips? What is this, FFIX?

A dildo? Hmm, that -- wait a minute, a dildo? What in the name of a great Cthulhu's throbbing manhood is a dildo doing in a staff member's desk? Whose desk is this anyway? What sick motherfucker would keep a dildo in an office desk?

I turn the nameplate around and read the name: "Tetsuya Nomura".

And I drop the dildo.

Okay, wait, it's not like I didn't want to drop it before. I was just being cautious. For all I know this could've belonged to a fine ass female staff member. I don't know if we have any hot females, or if we even have any females at all, but dammit I didn't want to look like an idiot!

Dammit, this is all so political!

Fuck Wada and fuck Nomura! I don't have time to go around doing inventory on dildos, I've got a goddamn game to develop!

I look down in the drawer where I dropped the dildo and see it among the paper clips. Hey, you know, from this angle the clips kind of look like arms...

And I get an idea.

The next day at TGS we unveil the demo. We let some people play it, and they all rave about the boss at the end, saying that its design is phenomenal.

This was the boss:


Don't ever let anyone fucking tell you I can't design games.

Revenant Wings doesn't count.

Entry #18: Reminiscence

I earned myself a little vacation after pumping out that demo so quick. After TGS Wada shook my hand and gave me his best forced smile.

"Congrats, Moto," he said through gritted teeth. "Looks like you managed to please everbody at once."

"What can I say?" I said. "I'm a slut."

Damn did it feel good to stick it to Wada. He told me I could take a little break and so I'm sitting at home going through my old journals.

I used to keep journals all the time when I started out as a video game developer. They were just something to keep my ideas in and to keep me focused. I sort of stopped, but now I've picked it up again with this FFXIII Dev Journal. It feels nice.

Anyway, I came upon an entry from when I was developing a game called Racing Lagoon. You guys have probably never heard of it, but you can Wiki it. I had totally forgotten about this since it was ten years ago, but there was one thing I was surprised as hell to find out:

I worked with Kawazu on the game.

No, really, me and Kawazu are credited as the designers. Though I guess Kawazu got more of the influence because the game sucked. Everyone hated it. You're probably thinking, "Hey, it can't be that bad."

Well brace yourself for this: it was a racing game that combined street racing with elements of an RPG.

Seriously, how the fuck do you even do that? Leave it to Kawazu to mistake his shit for gold. Incidentally, I found out why I never remembered any of this. It's because I was smashed on Jaeger throughout the entire development process, according to my journal. Seriously, I think there was maybe a five minute period where I wasn't smashed, and that was because I ran out of liquor and ran out to buy more. So it turns out Kawazu did develop the entire game by himself.

Famitsu gave it a 21 out of 40. I can see that Kawazu improved his blowjob skills since the 90s. Well, until I murdered him at least.

Anyway, it's always nice to go back and relive these memories. There are some scribbles in here in some handwriting that's not mine. It's pretty messy, so I have to squint to make it out. It says:

"Nice journal, alligator!"

Wow. What kind of a douchebag goes through another dude's journal? Good thing I killed him, eh? Society isn't at peace with people like him walking around.
Be careful, Tomu. Kitase's on your trail still, no time to be complacent. Wait until things settle down before you stop watching your back.
Kitase won't be able to watch you with an ice pick in his spine ...
Kitase's a hack! Go play FFVIII and tell me if you come back with your face or your palm intact, because you'd be the first.
The best parts of FFVIII were the Ultimecia fights and Triple Triad. In some circles the game is known as Triple Triad featuring FFVIII.

Seriously, can someone tell me what the point of the Laguna sideplot was? Any parts of the game that were good, I highly doubt were Kitase's doing.

That still doesn't change the fact that he might be a better detective than a programmer/director.
Kitase's method of creating video games involves taking a shit on a piece of paper and giving it to the programmers. He'll swallow whatever they come up with.

An H-Mart detective kit can only get you so far.
IMO the best part of FFVIII was the Event Planning, everything else was just rubbish!
taylo333, I'm glad to see there's at least one genius here besides me who knows true game design.

Now if I only knew what Event Planning was. I want to know what the hell I've been doing for the past ten years.

Entry #19: Run, Moto, Run

Shit. It's over. Kitase's got me. He knows I killed Kawazu. He sent me a text message saying he knows everything and that he's on his way to get me. They're going to question me, oh Cthulhu, I'm going to jail!

I'm posting this from the computer in my office. I can see Kitase through my office window. He just walked out of the elevator and is headed straight this way.

Oh, shit, are those agents behind him?

I've gotta jet. Luckily I'm typing this on a laptop, so I'll carry it with me and continue typing while I flee for my life from elite government agents.

Okay, I just slipped out of my door and hid in an empty cubicle. They still think I'm in my office. Good, they just went in. Now's my chance!

Okay, now I'm running down the row of cubicles towards the elevator. I need to get the hell out of this building and I don't have time to take the stairs.

Shit, it's Nomura. He's at the copier making copies of models from a JC Penney catalog, which he'll trace over and add zippers to and submit as a character design. Shit, he saw me. Okay, he's talking to me about how shitty Square-Enix paper shredders are, and now he's showing me his pants where the shredder tore a giant hole.

I need to go but he keeps talking crap about how he only has one pair of leather pants and can't get another one until his next check, so he's drawing up another character design to make another five million and buy some back-up trousers.

Shit, they just came out of my office. I just pushed Nomura down and now I'm bolting towards the elevator. Come on, Moto, run! You used to pretend to do track and field in high school to get laid. Don't let that skill go to waste!

I'm about five feet from the elevator and I trip over an ethernet cable. As I type this I'm flying face-first towards the elevator. Shit, I better shield my laptop so I can continue updating.

Okay, my nose is broken and I'm pretty sure I have a skull fracture. Those elevator doors are hard. Luckily I managed to keep my laptop safe.

Shit! This isn't the time to check my injuries. Kitase heard the noise I made hitting the elevator door and he's running over here right now. Unlike me he actually did do track and field in high school.

Okay, I just pushed the button to call the elevator. Shit, hurry up! Hurry up! Goddamn, Kitase!! He wasn't lying about that world record 100-meter time! Why can't the son of a bitch develop games this fast?!

Yes! Elevator's here! I'm jumping in, and I just hit the button for the first floor.

Oh, shit, Kitase's diving! He just screamed like an animal and motherfucking dived towards the closing elevator doors screaming, "TORIYAMAAAAAAA!!!!!"

They're closing, they're closing! Come on, close faster!! HE'S ALMOST HERE!!

BANG! Kitase slams into the elevator doors as they slam shut. The elevator starts moving. Whew, okay. Okay, I think I made it out.

The elevator doors are opening and I'm running out through the Square-Enix lobby. Hamauzu is still in his corner. I'm bolting out the revolving doors.

Wait, what the fuck is this?! Hamauzu's chasing me! THE MOTHERFUCKER IS RUNNING AFTER ME AT TOP SPEED!

I'm giving everything I have and running towards my car. I just climbed in and started that bitch up, and now I'm gunning the gas.

It's hard to type with one hand and drive with the other, but goddamn it HAMAUZU JUST FUCKING JUMPED ONTO THE TRUNK OF MY CAR. He's holding on with one hand and screaming while he uses his other to punch my rear windshield!

That son of a bitch! We would never have had this problem with Uemtasu!

Holy shit he just cracked my rear windshield! I'm swerving to try and throw him off but this guy has the grip of a female Swedish bodybuilder. Come on, you asshole, let go!

Okay, I just put this on cruise control and climbed into the backseat. I'm typing this while I'm kicking my back windshield with all the force I can. Shit, come on, come on!

Yes, did it! I just knocked out my back windshield, and it flew out towards the road and took Hamauzu with it! The bastard just slammed straight into the concrete with a nasty crunch, and the windshield shattered nearby.

Okay, I'm back at the wheel and I'm turning the cruise control off. Wait, what's this? My cell phone's ringing.

Fuck! It's Kitase, he sent me a text message! It says:

"LOL moto u r fuking dead asshole i heard how u were telling ppl i sucked at makin gamez but u kno what no u suck assho"

I'm bringing the car to a stop. I just pulled over. I read the text message again.

He was chasing me because I bashed his games? That's it?

Okay, now I'm sighing with relief and turning the car around. Guess I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.

On the way back I pick up Hamauzu, who asked for a ride back to Square-Enix HQ as if his spinal cord injury was nothing.

This guy is insane.
Looks like among everything else, Kitase has a short attention span.

Just be glad Hamauzu didn't take up the case and pick up that H-mart detective kit. He'd McGyver that shit and you'd be in trouble.
I think Hamauzu is just one of those guys who just likes to be a douche to people for no good reason. He couldn't care less that I killed Kawazu. He just wants to make life harder for me.
That guy just seems to be in his own little world.

A world that functions a lot like the Matrix.
While you were out Kitase seems to have have filled your game with low quality grass textures!!!
Oh, that's it. Nobody fucks with my grass.

Entry #20: Off the Hook

When I get to Square-Enix, Kitase is waiting in my office. I see him inside through my office window, rubbing my computer and pencils up and down his ass crack.

"I can't fucking design games, huh?" He grabs a handful of my pens and sticks them in his pants. Then he begins to hula, making sure that those pens touch every inch of his nether regions.

"FFVII is one of the most popular and highly rated games of all time," he says. "Oh, what was that? FFX-2? That was a game? Sorry, all I can remember is the GIANT FREAKING BONER I had for more than half the game. I certainly don't remember any tortured or deep characters, and I certainly don't remember anything besides the massage mini-game. Oh yes, I remember that well!"

I pretend not to notice and decide to come back later. I take this chance to walk around the dev floor and see what the hell my programmers have been working on for the past few months.

It's not bad. They took all five ideas I came up with and added about a thousand more of their own, and the game looks and plays fantastic. I guess having a good director automatically assures a good game. This was made through my own will, a will that these programmers were no doubt channeling while they designed this game.

So naturally I'm going to slap my name down as the sole creative force behind this game. It was my will power that made this game, after all.

I catch Nomura and Hamauzu arguing with each other. Apparently Hamauzu has to compose some character themes, but he keeps telling Nomura, and I quote, "Bitch got no titties bastard got no dick."

Nomura's asking him what the hell this is supposed to mean and if he can put belts and zippers on it. Hamauzu grabs him by the collar and stares into Nomura's eyes with his own, hollow, bloodshot spheres. "Bitch got no titties bastard got no dick."

Nomura sees me out of the corner of his eye and screams, "Oh, shit, Moto, you gotta help me! Help me! I don't know what he's saying!"

Hamauzu grinds his teeth and slaps Nomura across the cheek. "Bitch got no titties bastard got no dick."

Nomura's calling for help but I'm sitting there enjoying this. I pull up a nearby chair and sit down to watch as Hamauzu slips a switchblade out of his pocket.

Hmm? He seems pretty serious. Oh, well, he won't do anything.

He stabs Nomura in the gut.

Oh, shit, that looked serious.

Nomura fishes on his desk and grabs two and a half pens, with which he stabs Hamauzu.

I jump to my feet and rush over. "HEY!" I scream. "THOSE ARE MY PENS, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

I deck Nomura across the face. Hamauzu turns to me while still muttering the phrase and tries to stab me. I grab his hand and break it by slamming it down on Nomura's desk. Hamauzu doesn't even scream. He merely closes his eyes, sighs, and passes out.

I turn around and see that Kitase has heard the commotion and is heading this way.

"Moto, you and I have got to have a serious talk," he says.

"Eh, I can't right now, Yoshi, I've got this shit to do and that shit to do --"

"We'll talk later. There are more important matters at hand. I've found Kawazu's killer."

I gulp. No. Impossible.

Kitase kicks Nomura as he's laying on the ground. "Thought you could get away, eh, motherfucker!?"

He kicks Nomura in the gut while I'm standing there with my jaw dropped. Holy shit, he thinks it was Nomura!

Kitase turns to me. "What's with your face, Moto? You waiting for a dick or something? Go call the police! My H-Mart detective kit has deduced that Nomura was the killer. This is more than enough evidence to hold up in court."

"Oh, yeah, I'm on it," I tell him and head to my office to make the call.

This worked out beautifully! Kawazu's dead, Nomura's going to prison, and I get off the hook! Now if Kitase and Wada were out of the way this would be perfect. But I can work on that later.

I call up the cops and in about 10 minutes they're shoving Nomura into the back of a police car while the entire Square-Enix development team stands outside watching.

"Wow," a programmer next to me says, "I never thought it'd be Nomura."

"The pretty ones are always insane," Kitase says.

"Well, come on, how could it not have been him?" I ask everyone. "I've never told anybody this, but Nomura confided in me that he was always jealous of Kawazu and had homicidal thoughts about him."

"I can understand that," the programmer says. "Kawazu was a sexy man."

"No, I said 'homicidal'."

"Oh..." the programmer says. "Yeah, I know."

The cop car drives off and I clap my hands to get everyone's attention. "Well, let's get back to that game, shall we? Wada's money isn't going to make itself!"

Kitase came into my office before going home that night and told me that he was going to go visit Nomura in the detention center, asking if I wanted to come along. What the hell? Let's go see Nomura squirm.
Oh, that Nomura! He'll put belts and zippers on anything!
Things are getting crazy up in there!
Hey, it's Square-Enix. This happens at least once each development cycle.
I signed in to this blogspot thing just to tell you my love for this blog. It possibly surpasses the funniest stuff I've ever read on mylifeisaverage.com or fmylife.com.

I had spent 5 minutes randomly messaging friends "I'M MOTHER FUCKING MOTOMU TORIYAMA!" earlier today.

As expected, they were confused.

SOON, EVERYONE WILL KNOW MOTOMU TORIYAMA AND HIS TORIYAMAN PHYSIQUE! Lol
Indeed they shall. But I wasn't joking.

Entry #21: Unstoppable

Kitase and I wait as they bring Nomura out of his cell. He sits across the table from us, looking rather distraught.

The silence weighs a ton. I look at Kitase, who looks pissed as fuck, and then at Nomura, who looks rather distraught. Then I clear my throat.

"So...what's up?" I say.

Nomura begins crying about how he doesn't want to go to prison. How they won't let him draw or will only let him have one pen.

"There, there," I say. "There, there."

"Stop fucking crying," Kitase says. "You murdered Kawazu and you're going to pay for it."

"But I didn't do it," Nomura says. "I don't know why you think I did! I loved Kawazu! We played Brawl together all the time! He taught me how to make pancakes! WE WERE BUDDIES!!"

He begins crying louder and Kitase slams his fist on the table.

"Goddammit will you shut the hell up?! I'm a sleuth, motherfucker. And I sleuthed the fuck out of you! You did it! I know you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did! I will slap you with my genitals!"

I jump up between them. "Whoa, Kitase, calm down. Why don't you go get a Coke or something while I talk to Nomura?"

"No. I need to hear everything he says," Kitase says. "The detective kit says I need to make a file --"

"Dude, I'll Gmail it to you. Just go," I tell him.

Kitase sighs and leaves the room. I turn back to face Nomura.

"So, man...." I say. "How's prison so far?"

"Well, they haven't taken me to the actual prison yet. But this place sucks. I'm cold all the time, the jell-o sucks, I just want to go home."

I look at him. Part of me feels remorse for my actions, for putting an innocent man in prison for a murder I committed for personal gain.

The rest of me, however, is filled with extreme disgust for even experiencing a twinge of human emotion. There's a reason that FFXIII will be the best Final Fantasy ever made, and that reason is the fact that it will be completely devoid of the stupidity, the "emotions" of previous Final Fantasies. Where those games failed, where those designers failed, I will prevail.

I already took down Kawazu. I played Kitase like a cheap hooker. After I leave here I'm planning on nailing Hironobu Sakaguchi's wife, and maybe Yasumi Matsuno's too for good measure.

I'm unstoppable, invincible. I'm like that one dude in front of the tanks at Tienanmen Square from that one really famous picture. Only his revolution is nothing compared to mine.

This is why I lean forwards and say to Nomura, "I did it."

Nomura stops crying and looks up. "What?"

"It was me. I killed Kawazu. I brought him to my house, I put down newspaper to protect my expensive carpet, and then I stuck an axe in his face."

Nomura looks at me wide-eyed. "No way."

"Kawazu never saw it coming. Him and his stupid fucking games and his stupid alligators -- who the hell calls someone an alligator? Where do you pick that up?"

"He was my friend!" Nomura yells. "And you killed him!"

"Come on, bitch," I say, holding my arms out to my sides. "Try and take me down. I'm motherfucking Motomu Toriyama."

Nomura tries to climb over the table to get me. The security guards hold him back while I back away, smiling.

"I'll come visit you later, Nomura," I say. "Enjoy the jell-o."

As I exit I see Kitase coming back down the hall with a Coke.

"Damn, Moto, you were right. This Coke really hit the spot."

He tries to look past me at Nomura. "What's going on in there?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say. "Looks like visiting hours..."

I put on my sunglasses.

"...are officially over."

YYYYYEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

Entry #22: Birthday Bash

Good news everybody, today is my birthday. I am officially 39 years old. I know you're asking yourself, "Wow, Moto, you look so young and have so much sexual vitality. How could you possibly be 39?"

Well, there's a simple answer to all of that, but to find it you will have to solve a series of intricate puzzles that I have set up for you, each one more audacious and cerebral than the last.

What the hell, I'll just tell you: fertilizer and horse semen. Makes your skin fabulous.

But that's beside the point. Since today is my birthday I decided to take everyone to the arcade to celebrate. They all seemed pretty down because of the whole deal with Nomura supposedly killing Kawazu, so I thought it'd cheer them up.

Plus I felt like kicking ass at DDR today.

Which I did, of course. As soon as we got there I beat some teenage punk who was playing on Easy and thinking he was the shit. I asked him if we could do it together, because I love to do it with people younger than me. It keeps me on my toes.

His mother gave me a fierce look, but I ignored it. Two quarters and several grunts and gallons of sweat later he was running off crying to his mother, and she was feebly trying to get the manager to kick me out.

The manager was powerless, of course, due to the fact that I'm motherfucking Motomu Toriyama.

The one person I really wanted to face off against was Wada. Other prime candidates would've been Kawazu or Nomura, but they were obviously unavailable at the moment due to...well, let's just call them family emergencies (LOL!).

Wada was playing Need for Speed against Hamauzu and completely owning at it. He tore Hamauzu a new one, but I guess that was hardly a miracle: Hamauzu spent half the race trying to figure out what the giant round thing in front of him was. When he figured out it was a steering wheel, he kindly removed his penis from it and tried to catch up to Wada, but it was too late.

"Hey, Wada," I said, "nice sticking there. You wanna go a round of DDR?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Just let me get my penis out of this wheel."

Wada had agreed to the game of DDR. But I soon learned that it would be one of the greatest trials of my life.

Wada wasn't just good, he was phenomenal. Every time I pulled off a two-step combo, he pulled off a three-step combo. Every time I did a spin maneuver, he did a backflip. Every time I pulled off a delicious combo, he added gravy.

And I found myself struggling to not lose in front of my development team. I kept trying to keep up, but Wada was outdoing me in every possible way. What would the dev team think if I lost? I was a god to most -- no, I was a god to all of them. Were I to lose this game their faith would be destroyed, their entire belief system thrown in the incinerator. They would all put cyanide in their Kool-Aid and meet for a mass suicide, I could sense it. When you've been in as many cults as I have, you can always sense these things coming.

I could not lose, if not to save my pride, then at least to save the lives of my development team. So I devised a plan in order to win.

30 seconds later, we were in the home stretch of the song. This is where the winner would be decided. Wada's suit was soaked in sweat, and veins were popping in his head as he struggled to keep up his perfect combo.

"Come on, motherfucker," he said to the game, "bend over for me...BEND OVER FOR ME!"

He glanced over at me and was distracted enough to lose his combo. Fatal mistake, Wada.

In an effort to distract him, I had removed every article of clothing on my body. Now, I do not claim to have a Herculean physique, but I'm pretty damn close. In just three months time they will be referring to this in the Olympics as the "Toriyaman Physique". Look for it, I promise you.

But regardless of whether or not I am a physical specimen Wada was still so surprised to see me in the nude that he fell off his dance pad. It also might have been the fact that my genitalia, unfettered by tight, binding undergarments, was now flowing about as it pleased every time I pulled off a combo.

Eventually, I ended up winning and keeping my development team alive a little longer. I was harmlessly celebrating my victory by doing a hearty jig when the teenage punk's mother came along with the manager and had me thrown into the parking lot.

My ass came into contact with the cold asphalt of the night-time parking lot. A garbage bag with my clothes flew out soon after. Regardless, I felt I had triumphed and passed a great trial of manhood. I could do anything now.

So, grabbing up my bag of clothes, I walked back home.

P.S. - I got lucky on the way home. Feeling on top of the world I decided to walk home instead of taking my car. I learned later that Hamauzu had planted a bomb in it, which would've killed me in my nude state. Apparently he was mad at Wada for beating him and put the bomb on my car because it was right next to Wada's Chocobo and Hamauzu apparently "missed" when placing the bomb. The one Chocobo in existence, and he missed it. Good work, Hama.
Yes, this blog contains nothing more than the raw emotion that emanates from the core of my soul. Could you ever imagine Nomura or Kawazu doing this? Nomura can't read and Kawazu is dead! Only motherfucking Motomu Toriyama could write this.

Entry #23: The Time Draws Near

More good news, everybody. Final Fantasy XIII is slated for release in Japan this December. Apparently my programmers got a lot more of the game done than I had previously thought. I spent all day working on how I want my name to look on the credits, front cover, back cover, manual, disc, and every pixel in the game.

I'll let you readers choose. How should I credit myself on the game?

"Singlehandedly Conceived and Passed through the Birth Canal by
motherfucking Motomu Toriyama"

"Directed, Produced, Written, Programmed, Art Designed, Composed, Marketed by
motherfucking Motomu Toriyama"

"Ripped from the hands of Angry Gods Vowing to Crack my Spine in Two by
motherfucking Motomu Toriyama"

Or just the classic:

"I'm motherfucking Motomu Toriyama"

So, I'll let you guys give feedback on that. Nevetheless, as the release date draws closer I get more and more giddy. Finally I have a game that I created alone. No input from anybody else. No stupid Kitase bugging me to plan events (still don't know what the hell they are). This time around I did everything as I wished. That is why you can be assured that this game will be fantastic.

To drive this point home I'm going to stamp each copy of FFXIII with a "Motomu Toriyama Seal of Quality". It'll be like those official Nintendo seals, but these will actually goddamn mean something other than the fact that I busted a nut all over this game (I'm looking right at you, Miyamoto).

I'm actually so excited that I'm going to throw a FFXIII party in anticipation of the game's release. In fact, I've already booked the United Nations Conference Center as well as seduced Sayuri Sugawara into doing the game's vocal theme and performing it at the party for free.

She performed a lot of vocal themes for me, especially last night.

In bed.

In addition I've also invited my favorite game designer, Hideo Kojima, to the party. I love his games because the verbal stroke-off achieved from the Metal Gear series is like none other. I someday hope to create a game like that.

I've also invited my wife, who is always subtly mentioned in this journal but has never been seen. Don't look at me, I've never seen her myself. Hope she's good-looking.

After deciding the guest of honor me and Wada sat down to plan out party supplies. We were debating over how many paper plates and plastic cups to buy. While we were doing this I sent Kitase out to go buy some bottles of 7-Up, but wouldn't you know it he came back with those stupid small-sized bottles.

"What the hell are you thinking," I yelled. "We're having a fucking party at the United Nations Conference Center! There will actually be people at this party! Yes, people, that means more than one person!

He ran back out to Aldi to buy bigger bottles. But just because Kitase could be tamed like a housecat doesn't mean Wada would go down as easy. He firmly insisted on buying 100 plastic Solo cups and exactly two bags of ice, saying he knew it would be enough. Everytime I told him it wouldn't be enough he brought up his stupid fucking family reunions he always has with his stupid ugly family.

"Look, Moto," he said, "my family has reunions every six months. I know how to plan a party. I'm telling you this will be enough."

Finally, I had enough.

"We're fucking Square-Enix!" I yelled. "You have a fucking house on Mount Fuji! YOU PAYED SCIENTISTS TO BIO-ENGINEER A MOTHERFUCKING CHOCOBO! WE CAN AFFORD BUY MORE GODDAMN SOLO CUPS IF WE FEEL WE ARE GOING TO RUN OUT! WE CAN AFFORD THIS ONE LUXURY!"

Wada eventually backed down and Kitase brought the cups as well as the 7-Up. Score one for Toriyama.

About three hours later we were at the UN Conference Center setting up the party. I did the decorations myself. I could see it coming to fruition. This would be phenomenal.

I could already imagine myself on stage telling my crowd about my monumental achievement in interactive entertainment. I could imagine them ripping off their clothes and giving me all their money, and then me walking off and banging Sayuri Sugawara in the middle of the Conference Center while everyone cheered me on. Maybe I would even see my wife and find her to be attractive enough to add to the twosome already in progress.

Yes, I could tell, this was going to be one epic party.
Post a new entry
Toriyama will post whenever the hell he feels like it!
What about: Gifted to the world (despite the incessant interference of peons) by the peerless magnanimity of Motomu Toriyama.
I like the way you think, taylo333. Maybe I should fire Kitase and hire you.

Entry #24: Clubbed to Death

Well, this is it, the party is underway. Things are a bit hectic, but I will try to update as much as possible. I was thinking of making a Twitter page to keep everyone updated, but then I realized I wasn't a 14-year-old piece of jailbait with no breasts or attention span, so I just decided to take my laptop around with me.

Except that my laptop is a garbage piece of fuck made by Dell and can't even run Solitaire without a graphics upgrade, so I trashed it and am managing to carry around an IBM desktop. It's not as heavy as it seems if you strap the computer to your leg and create an apparatus to hold the monitor up in front of you. It makes it a bitch to drive since you can't see anything but the monitor, but if you hook up a webcam to be your eyes there's only a delay of about 5 seconds, which should be enough to avoid collision.

Shit, none of this matters anyway. Anyway, right now Hamauzu's on stage. He was supposed to go up and introduce the orchestra and the theme song, but it seems he's freaking out because he doesn't remember composing any of the music this orchestra is supposed to be playing. Acid does that to you.

Wada's running the food table. Now he knows how it feels.

Kitase is walking around with a tux from...holy shit, is his tux painted on? Does nobody notice? People are shaking his hand like he's fully clothed! Dear god, this optical illusion is flawless!

Nomura is...oh, right, he's in prison. But I think he was supposed to be doing something on some stupid Disney/FF game he came up with. He tried to pitch it to me a while ago but I don't take kindly to utter pieces of shit. Let's see him sell any copies of that thing.

Speaking of Nomura, he has been incessantly calling me and telling me he's going to get me thrown in prison. Luckily, being the criminal mastermind I am, nobody believes him. It also helps that he doesn't have much credibility as a human being, but most of it is my doing.

Okay, Kitase's on stage now. Why the hell would you paint on a tux? What happens if you sweat? Those lights get pretty damn hot.

Anyway, he's talking about how they're going to shorten the localization time for FFXIII to get it to American audiences faster. Japanese fans have been incessantly complaining about the lack of an English dub/Japanese subtitles option, and how the PS3 has kept it from happening. Damn Ameriboos. Can't even understand English and automatically say that the Japanese voice acting sucks.

Now he's introducing the orchestra, since Hamauzu had to be thrown out for stripping naked. The irony. He invites Sayuri Sugawara onstage to sing the craptacular theme song for the game.

Figures. You create this perfect piece of art and some Japanese pop singer ****s all over it. I think in Japan we call that the Final Fantasy VIII soundtrack.

Ohohoho, oh snap, Toriyama.

If she wasn't so fine I would've slapped her upside the head when she started singing.

Speaking of which, I've been looking for my wife but have had no luck. She's supposed to be here somewhere. I need to know this because I want to find out as soon as possible whether or not to file the divorce papers. I don't even know how the hell we ended up married. I think I just needed someone to give my wife jokes some validity.

Right now I'm grabbing a drink from the Squeenix bar, which is also being run by Wada.

"Hello, Moto," he says, "nice computer setup you got there."

Wada obviously can't see what I'm typing. LOL this is the chance for me to type it:

UR A FUKIN DOCHBAG

LOL, awsum

"Hey, Wada," I say, "get me a bloody Mary. I need something make this more fun."

Wada say, "Hmm, well, you see, this a corporate event, so this is a non-alcoholic bar."

"Are you fucking serious?" I say. "Well, what DO you have?"

Wada sorts through the bottles on the shelves behind him. "Hmm, I've got...Apple Juice...Sunny D...and...some type of green stuff. I can't tell what it is."

A non-alcoholic bar. Great. Somebody calm this party down, it's too insane.

Okay, it's five minutes later and I'm standing at the side of the stage sipping my green stuff. God, this stuff tastes horrible. What is this anyway? Ugh, this doesn't seem to be composed of any elements found on Earth.

But it is giving me a slight buzz, which I guess is good because Kitase just announced a giant game of musical chairs, Final Fantasy style.

"Okay, everyone, we're going to have a giant game of musical chairs...Final Fantasy style! Everyone gather in the center. Here are the rules: it's just like normal musical chairs, but you have to impersonate a Final Fantasy character while you do it!"

Behind me I hear Wada scream, "Oh, yeah! This is gonna be awesome!"

During the game I stand by sipping my green stuff, which is giving me a bitch of a headache, and watch them trying to make something of their stupid miserable lives. Foolish men. What is a man, anyway? All these people putting on facades to please others. A miserable pile of secrets, every one of them!

Perhaps the same could be said of all religions.

Maybe I missed something, but wasn't this about FFXIII? What the hell does musical chairs have to do with this?

Holy shit, is that black paint on the chairs? Kitase's tux!!

Kitase is bouncing around imitating a moogle (one fatass moogle) and he seems to be sweating profusely. His tux is dripping all over the floor!

People seem to be noticing, but Kitase is so into his own damn game that he doesn't see a thing. It pisses me off when developers take their own games so damn seriously. Kojima is the best example. Goddamn, when my game is finished and released it will show him how to correctly create a masterpiece of interactive entertainment.

Kojima was supposed to be here as well. Actually he was supposed to be the guest of honor. But he replied saying that FF is doing nothing to promote the cause of nanotechnology or gruff-voiced main characters, though he did approve of our scantily-clad women.

Yeah, screw you too, Kojima.

Paint is splattering all over the floor, and people are backing away.

"Yoshi!" Wada screams. "Your tux!"

And Kitase's eyes go wide. He freezes and looks down at his body, which is now stained in dripping paint.

"Oh...my....GAAWWWWWDD!" He screams and tries to cover himself. "Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT MEEEE!!!"

I'm laughing, and I'm also just about to take a picture when Nomura busts in through the front door.
Kojima is a novice next to your genius Moto!
Oh, daaaymn, you better run, Moto..

Entry #25: The Cait Sith Hits the Fan

The fuck? It's Nomura! Nomura is standing at the front door right now! He's wearing...what the hell? He's got on the 1930s striped prisoner outfit. They haven't used those since...the 1930s.

He's standing there screaming, "MOTOOOOOO!!!" Everyone turns to look at him and he whips out a shotgun.

Oh, shit, gotta bounce!

I'm running backstage, down the stairskeshfjsdhjeh79 3r5y3ahfuhfjhsdjfhtgawrytheus763427

Shit, disregard that last line, I just fell down the stairs. Damn it, people weren't meant to run with desktop computers strapped to themselves!

I'm pulling myself back up while gunshots are ringing out on the main floor. People are screaming and I can distinctly hear Kitase shouting, "THE PARTY IS OVVAAAHHHHH!!!"

There! I see the back exit for the building. All I have to do is run around the back of the building and get to my car.

Shit! It's locked! I'm kicking the door right now trying to get it open. Gunshots are getting closer.

HOLY FUCK! A BULLET JUST POPPED THROUGH THE DOOR! IT NEARLY TOOK MY GODDAMN HEAD OFF!

"MOTOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" I hear behind me. Shit. It's Nomura. He's got me.

"If I go to hell I'm taking you with me," he says, pointing the gun at me.

I'm raising my hands above my head, typing with my nose.

"Me! I killed Kawazu! Surprised? Expected some kind of monster?! I'm flesh and blood just like you! Don't you get it? Kawazu was annoying to me too. But I just want to get away scot-free for my crimes, just like you!"

"I understand your...wait, what?" Nomura says. "Shut up! This is it, Moto! It's over! I broke out of prison to get here and bring you to justice! And I'm not leaving until you're in prison or dead!"

I'm trying to think of something to do. I'll just have to distract him for now.

"So, uh, about that Disney/FF game you came up with," I say casually. "Interesting concept, I have to admit."

"It's called Kingdom Hearts, you douchebag!" Nomura screams. "KINGDOM HEARTS. It's sold more copies and has more YouTube AMVs than all your games combined!"

I am extremely offended. "Now, Nomura, I know you're distraught, but please don't dismiss quality gameplay in your anger."

"QUALITY?! YOU TOOK A GAME THAT TOUCHED THE HEARTS OF MILLIONS AND TOOK A GIANT TORIYAMA-DUMP ALL OVER IT! YOUR JIZZ IS ALL OVER THAT GAME AND IT'S KILLING AN ARTISTIC GEM!!"

Damn it, this isn't calming him down. There needs to be something I can do.

Wait, up there! It's a giant blow-up Lightning doll. We were planning on using this as decoration for the front of the building but decided against it when the Snow blow-up doll was mysteriously stolen.

"Now, Nomura," I say, steadily inching my way over to the rope dangling from the doll, "it's okay. I respect you as a game designer and a human being. You are a true artist."

Nomura's expression softens. He lowers the gun a bit. "You've never respected me before."

"No, I do," I say, "because when it's crunch time, you're great at -- PSYCHE!"

I pull on the rope and the doll comes down between us. I hear a gunshot and a giant hole appears in the doll, through which air starts to rush out.

Underneath the doll, me and Nomura are engaged in a rapid kung-fu duel to the death. I kick his shotgun away and aim a roundhouse kick to the face. It's good that I practiced typing while performing kung-fu so I can keep you updated.

Nomura sees the kick coming and headbutts my leg, which sends me spinning backwards to crash into the wall. He front flips over to me and starts performing a series of rapid punches, which I skillfully deflect.

He aims a punch at the back of my computer monitor, which is still in front of me, and punches through the back. His fist travels through the innards of the monitor, and I see the glass of the screen explode in my face.

Shit, a million tiny shards are flying at me. Reaching down to my leg, I pull the emergency ripcord and the entire computer apparatus drops onto the floor. It's okay, I have a wireless keyboard, so I can keep updating. I just won't be able to see the screen.

Nomura's arm is stuck in the back of the monitor, so I grab the Lightning doll for future use and decide to use the chance to escape. It seems that when Nomura sent me crashing into the wall I loosened up the frame of the back exit, so it flies open effortlessly and I escape into the night.

"TORIYAMAAAAA!!!" Nomura screams. He runs outside, shotgun in hand, and fires off a couple of shots, all which narrowly miss me.

I see my car and dive, crashing through side window to land in the driver's seat. I start it and pull away as Nomura stands in the parking lot, unable to chase me.

I sigh with relief, placing the Lightning blow-up doll in the passenger seat. "Time to celebrate victory," I tell it, beginning to undo my belt.
Motherfucking Motomu Toriyama could overcome a mountain of belts and zippers to make FFXIII the most amazing game you've ever played! Motomu be praised!

I hope Nomura spends 358/2 days in Hell when Motomu is done with him!

Entry #26: The Denouement Begins

I arrive back at Square-Enix headquarters. I've been trying to call Wada on my cell for the past hour but he hasn't picked up. Neither has Kitase, though he's probably understandably scarred from the painted-tux incident.

I'm back in my office and I've called the cops already about Nomura. It turns out he broke out of prison about two days ago and they've been searching for him since. Apparently in those two days he managed to buy a 1930s prison outfit, tailor it to include at least 30 belts and 20 zippers, and legally purchase a shotgun. What the hell is this police force doing, anyway?

I've barricaded the door to my office by pushing the desk up against it, because I know the number one place Nomura is going to look for me is here at the Square-Enix headquarters. And yet, despite knowing this, I chose this place to hide...

Who cares, I'm motherfucking Motomu Toriyama. I'll take anything.

I've also put up some Dragon Quest IX posters on the windows to keep people from seeing inside, though to be fair, every window in the Square-Enix headquarters has a Dragon Quest IX poster on it. Yes, we're that hardcore about our games. Not even the Pentagon has this much security.

Whatever the Pentagon is, anyway. This is Japan, so I've never heard of it. I just enjoy making references that I hear Americans make. Sometimes in this journal I forget I'm in Japan and write about my day as if I'm in America. As a result, the entire thing seems disjointed and inconsistent, kind of like Final Fantasy VIII.

Ohohoho, oh snap.

Wait, hold on, I just heard the elevator door outside open. Someone's here! Oh, shit, it's probably Nomura. Oh, shit, I'm going to die. Oh, shit --

"Moto? Why the hell are those posters on your window?"

It's Wada! I pull my desk away from the door and open it to see Wada, holding a Snow blow-up doll.

"Oh, shit, Wada," I say, "I'm glad you showed up. I kind of need to talk to you."

I explain the situation to Wada. Of course, I don't tell him the whole truth. But I tell him enough, and make sure to keep him on a need-to-know basis. I need to hammer in the point that I am not lying to Wada, just not telling him everything. It's nowhere near the same thing.

"So..." Wada says after I'm done talking, "let me see if I understood everything correctly. Because he was jealous of Kawazu, who was a superior game designer and a raging sexaholic, Nomura planned out an elaborate murder scheme in order to reclaim an apparently stolen chihuahua that Kawazu forced into a dog show that took place in Annapolis, Maryland, but that didn't get first prize?"

"Yes," I say, "you've got a good memory."

"Wait, whose dog was it?"

"Um, I think it was Kitase's."

Wada looks at me, confused as hell. "Wait, what does Kitase have to do with anything?"

"He doesn't. But his dachshund does."

"The hell?" he says. "I thought it was a chihuahua."

I lead him on, using my God-tier storytelling and event planning skills to fool his pathetic little brain. "Nomura stole it. Actually, no, Kawazu stole it. I think. Look, the main point is that the cop was a prostitute."

Wada looks even more confused. "But you just told me a minute ago that the cop was a legally licensed stripper."

"Yeah," I say, "but you know, Nomura was screwed either way. She was his college roommate."

Wada's eyes go wide, and he screams, "HOLY SHIT!"

"I know," I say, leaning back smugly in my chair.

Wada looks at the floor, his eyes still wide. "This changes everything I know about humanity...I can never ever trust another human being ever again... Why? Why was such a world even brought into existence? WAS IT ALL FOR NAUGHT?!"

"It's okay, Wada," I say. "The point is that we have to catch Nomura and put him back behind bars, where he belongs. Regardless of his motives, he killed Kawazu, and then he dumped his body to decompose in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen, which is pretty damn far from Japan, but still."

"Wait," Wada says, "how do you know where Kawazu's body is? The police haven't found a trace of it."

Oh. Shit. I hadn't thought of that.

"Uh, well," I say, stalling for time while my brain plans out more events, "...Nomura's roommate told me...after I banged her."

Wada's expression changes to one of relief. He exhales. "Whew, damn, good thing she was on the pill. I was afraid for a second that you were the murderer, Moto."

At this comment I laugh boisterously. I shake the walls of the entire development floor. I'm also pretty sure that the janitor who was outside my door jacking off to the Dragon Quest IX poster also officially had the shit scared out of him.

"Who do you think I am? Nomura?"

Wada chuckles at this and gets up to leave, grabbing his Snow doll. "I just wanted to be sure. Anyway, despite the mass-execution of the guests by our main character designer, I'd say tonight's party was a smash. Only a month left until the game's release, Moto. You excited?"

I smile. "Excited? I'm ready to blow my load right now."

"Well, just wait until December. Then you can blow it as hard as you like. By the way, have you seen Hamauzu? Nobody's seen him since he had his freakout onstage."

"I haven't seen him," I say. "Probably buying more spoons or something. I'll let you know if I do."

Wada gives me a thumbs up. "'kay, cool beans, Motorola. Catch you on the flip side, kemosabe."

He pops his collar and walks out, stepping over the janitor who seems to have fainted in front of my door.

I boot up my crap-ass Dell laptop and begin one of my routine porn binges. But I cannot achieve boner status tonight. No, it's not because of the guilt on my conscience from having murdered an innocent man and framed another for the crime. It's that goddamn Dragon Quest IX poster. The main character's face is bothering the hell out of me. It looks nothing like an RPG hero at all, by which I mean that it's nowhere near feminine enough. But that might be because of the fact that it's covered in blood.

Hm, actually, I wonder if we've used that design before. It looks familiar as hell. Yes, yes, I know. It's nothing special if an RPG hero looks familiar, or even if he looks exactly the same as another RPG hero, but I can't help but feel like I've seen the face before.

I zip up my pants and walk over to the poster. I lean in close to make out the details in the face, especially the eyes.

Now I know why it's so familiar. The eyes I see are Nomura's, staring back at me through the window.
Kickass. Nice job evading the slammer, Moto.
Holy shit, I forgot I had a blog. Guess too much Leona Lewis will do that to you.
I love you with all my heart, Motomu.

Entry #27: My Hands

Nomura sticks his fist through the window, shattering it and smacking me in the nose.

"OWWWWW!!!" I scream and stagger backward, clutching my nose. Nomura steps in through my office door and stands in the doorway for me to stop screaming.

Except that I don't, because it hurts like hell. Nomura is a skinny bastard and has some bony knuckles, which came into direct contact with the bridge of my nose. I drop down to my knees and continue to scream.

Nomura's expression changes from one of anger to worry, and he says, "Hey, Moto, you okay?"

He walks over to me, and I find myself at eye-level with his nuts. I seize this opportunity to bring my forearm up and smash his testicles, causing his eyes to go wide and all the belts and zippers on his 1930s prison outfit to explode in a sea of...well, belts and zippers.

Nomura drops his knees and falls onto his back clutching his injured manhood while I stand over him.

"Goddamn, Nomura, why don't you just man up?" I say. "Just take the goddamn blame like a man so I can put out a god-tier video game. Is that too much to ask? Why do you have to be so greedy?"

Nomura is still rolling around on the ground in agony clutching his nuts and saying, "Oh, Noctis, oh, Stella, oh dear, dear Xion..."

I leave him to his gibberish and try to find some way to temporarily incapacitate him. I rummage through my drawers and find a ball-gag commonly used in S&M and...wait, a ball gag? Where the hell did this come from?

I notice an inscription on the ball which reads, "To Yoshi-chan, GRAB LIFE BY THE BALL". There is no name indicating who it is from, but nevertheless it is quite perfect for the current situation, and so I gag Nomura with it.

I realize that this is all useless unless I have some way to bind his hands as well, otherwise he will just remove the gag. Further inspection of my drawers leads me to a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, which coincidentally also bear an inscription dedicated to Kitase.

The amount of Kitase's sex toys turning up in my drawers is quite unsettling, but I'll be damned if they aren't useful. Looking further I find a whole array of objects personally addressed to Kitase and use them to bind Nomura. In a matter of minutes I have him restrained on the floor, gagged, handcuffed, and made wholly immobile with a tight leather getup. Conveniently, I also find a rather large whip and decide that this will be perfect to keep Nomura in check.

"How does it feel now, Nomura?" I say, cracking the whip. "You feel bad, now? You feel dirty for what you've done now?"

I crack the whip a few more times before letting out a rather sinister laugh. It is at this point that I notice Hamauzu standing in my doorway, his eyes wide as dinner plates. Incidentally, since he has then open extremely wide I can see just how bloodshot and emotionless they are, and I find it quite unsettling.

"Uh, hey Hama," I say. "Uh, what's up?"

Hamauzu is dead silent, standing there simply staring at the scene. After a few minutes he begins grinding his teeth, his expression changing to one of anger.

"Uh, you okay?" I ask.

He lets out an ear-splitting shriek and lunges across the office at me. I use my natural video game designer agility to duck down just as he nears me. He totally misses me and his momentum carries him over my head to crash into the wall. The impact is quite loud and I am pretty sure that I have heard some bones break, but this doesn't seem to faze him. He gets right back up and lunges at me again.

This time he manages to tackle me, causing me to fall down on top of Nomura, who lets out a grunt of pain. Hamauzu lowers his hands to my neck and begins choking me. The only thing making me more uncomfortable than the excessive pressure on my windpipe is the fact that Hamauzu's hands are freezing. I grab his wrists and use all my strength to slowly lift them up off my neck, rolling over just in time to avoid his grasp.

It turns out that he doesn't really seem to care what he chokes as long as he chokes something, and so his hands fly to Nomura's neck and begin choking him. Nomura's eyes go wide and he begins to go blue in the face, but he can't really fight Hamauzu off since he's restrained by the handcuffs and leather getup.

"Uhh, Hama," I say, gently tapping Hamauzu on the shoulder. "You might want to lighten up just a bit."

Hamauzu doesn't seem to have heard me, so I tap him gently on the shoulder again, saying, "Hama....Haaammaaa...."

I continue to gently tap him on the shoulder while Nomura's face goes blue from lack of oxygen. His eyes go wide and eventually begin to close. I am pretty sure Nomura is gone since Hamauzu keeps his hands around his neck for a good five minutes. He doesn't move his hands until a while after when his eyes go wide and he puts his hands down his pants, feeling around for something.

He seems to find it, because he says, "Thank you, Providence," and gets up, walking out of my office.

I stand there for a while trying to make sense of what happened. Not even half an hour before I was leading Wada through an intricate series of puzzles designed to test his humanity, and now Nomura is dead on my office floor in full S&M gear.

All I know is that I don't want him to be found in my office, so I roll the body over towards Leona Lewis' desk. She was given an honorary desk since we decided to use her song in Final Fantasy XIII. It is a well-known fact that she sells a lot of albums in Europe and America, and so we just knew that everyone in those areas must consider her some type of Goddess of Music. I cannot wait to hear all the positive feedback from this brilliant and soulful artistic decision.

The only sad fact is that she doesn't use her desk at all. In fact, I don't think she's ever come to Square-Enix headquarters, or if she even knows what Final Fantasy is. The point is that I try to keep her desk as clean as possible just in case she does visit us in the future, because I am not going to bang her on a dirty desk.

I leave Nomura there and feel a tinge of something. At first I think it is actual human emotion triggered by the loss of someone who I've worked with for years, but I soon realize that I just have to take a massive dump and make my way to the bathroom to take care of business.
Toriyama Update: The dump was awesome.
Nomura always makes me need to take an epic dump, too!
Moto, did you freaking eat my lunch in the break room again?
Masashi Hamauzu said...
I need spoons.
Motomu Toriyama said...
Guys, stop spamming my blog.

Entry #28: Countdown

Square-Enix has put up a giant countdown clock in front of the building. It's timed to ring at exactly midnight on December 17th: Final Fantasy XIII's release date. It's gotten a lot of attention, mostly because we first hung up a giant nude poster of Lightning and then put the clock up to obscure her luscious breasts and genitalia. We get at least twenty or thirty guys here every night trying to pry the clock off to get a glimpse at the poster, but they're always stopped in time.

Most of this is due in part to the fact that I've undertaken a personal crusade to make sure nobody gets that clock down. In addition to having the weight of Final Fantasy XIII's development on my shoulders, which is comparable to a moderately-large universe, I've also taken up guard duty outside Square-Enix.

Plus, if I stand at the right spot underneath the clock I can see right up in between Lightning's legs. That's motivation enough for Motomu Toriyama!

Wada has agreed to help me tonight. At some point it seems him and I became friends even though we were pretty fierce enemies in the beginning. I think it was because I saw him as a threat to FFXIII's development and to my artistic endeavors as well. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that if I wanted to I could make this entire game a Chocobo bestiality porno and Wada couldn't do jack shit about it. That's when I realized he poses no threat to me and is insignificant at best. For all intents and purposes, I'm the true CEO of Square-Enix at this point.

He's out here right now wearing some youth-league hockey padding and wielding a tennis racket as a weapon.

"I tell you, Moto, I was a force to be reckoned with when I used this racket in high school," he says to me. "After one swing no girl had the physical capability to say no to me."

"That's nice," I say, practicing wielding my Buster Sword replica. Damn, this thing is heavy. I can tell Kitase obviously never used one of these before he designed Cloud's victory pose. But I suppose he okayed Tifa's design despite never having been with a woman before.

Oh ho ho ho...burrrrn.

Wada seems to spot some hoodlums coming our way and says, "Moto, I think we've got trouble."

The hoodlums seem to be making their way towards the countdown clock. In the distance Wada and I can hear a quiet conversation:

"Bro, you gotta check this out, this chick is hot, bro."

"But, bro, I heard there are guards, bro."

"Bro, don't worry, bro, we'll just glimpse a glimpse of the vaj and get going, bro. I did this yesterday, bro, and it was all cool."

"Whoa, cool story, bro."

I motion to Wada to follow me and we sneak off to the side while the hoodlums approach and start trying to get a glimpse.

At this point I signal Wada to attack, and we run up behind the hoodlums, ready to strike, but pausing right at their backs as the screen goes blurry and a battle theme starts up.

The camera pans around us as the battle music continues. Our ATB bars show up below our names and HP/MP information and slowly begin filling up.

"Ambush, bro," one of the hoodlums says. "Fight 'em off, bro!"

My ATB bar fills up and a menu appears before me. I use the left analog to select the "Attack" command and run up to strike at one of the hoodlums. I slash diagonally across his chest, forming a huge gash from which blood gushes out like a geyser. He lets out an ear-splitting shriek of pain and drops to his knees, contnuing to scream and gasp for breath.

I return back to my spot and wait for my bar to fill up again.

"Bro!" the intact hoodlum screams. "You alright, bro?!"

The bleeding hoodlum is on his knees, but he says, "Yeah, bro, still got 30 HP left, bro. But my limit break bar's all full, bro."

The other hoodlum smiles and says, "Brooooo..."

Wada's bar fills up and he selects "Racket Art" and picks the move "Hard Serve". His MP bar is drained by half and a tennis ball appears in front of him, glowing with an intense red light. The light keeps getting brighter until it explodes into a fireball. Wada kicks this fireball high up into the air and then soars into the air after it, spinning superfluously several times before slamming his racket into the fireball and sending it flying at the hoodlums.

The fireball hits the ground in front of the hoodlums and explodes in a mass of pointless glyphs and overdone spell effects. The entire parking lot behind them is destroyed and torn to hell. The very crust of the Earth splits open as magama spurts out uncontrollably, landing on the hoodlums and burning them severely.

The move does 1 HP of damage to each of them.

The standing hoodlum uses the left analog to select "Item" and uses a "Band-Aid". He gets a Band-Aid out of his pocket and slaps it across the gash that I left on the bleeding hoodlums chest. In an instant the entire gash heals up and all the blood disappears. He gets to his feet and says, "Thanks, bro."

The once-bleeding hoodlum's turn comes up and he selects the "Limit" command. He glows with a yellow light as a caption box appears above his head saying "Omnislash".

"Oh.......fuck," I say.

Wada looks over at me and asks, "What? What's wrong."

His question is answered by the hoodlum lunging at him and performing multiple vicious 9999 damage hits to him in rapid succession. All I hear at the sounds of a sword slicing through flesh and Wada's high-pitched screams as his HP bar drops immediately to zero. The hoodlum jumps back to his spot as Wada drops to the ground, a dead, bloody mass.

My turn comes up and I select "Item" and "Phoenix Down", using it on Wada. All his blood and gashes immediately heal up as he regains 1 HP and sits up, saying, "Oh, fuck...holy fuck..."

I start getting pissed of all of this so I throw my Buster Sword on the ground and load up my Gameshark, giving me and Wada 99,999 HP each and maxing out our Strength and Defense. For the rest of the battle we just stand there laughing as each of their hits does zero damage to us. Then when we get bored enough we each attack a hoodlum, hitting for 99,999 damage and killing them immediately.

The victory fanfare plays as I try to spin my Buster Sword in a Cloud-like fashion. However, all that happens is that I hear a nasty crunching noise emit from my wrist as I try to spin the sword, and then there are a few seconds until I feel an intense amount of pain.

As the EXP and Gil totals come up, I drop to the ground and scream in pain. Wada and I each gain a level, and Wada gains a new Racket Art which allows him to do 2 HP of damage to one enemy with superfluous glyphs and overdone spell effects.

Since all status ailments are healed after battle, my wrist is as good as new after the battle ends.

"Nice, we got them good," Wada says, spinning his racket and striking a victory pose.

"Yeah," I say. "Anyway, we should get going and get some rest. I think that's enough hoodlum hunting for today."

I take on the role of party leader as Wada follows close behind. We run through the town, eventually finding the highway and running straight down through it. We continue running until we reach a Motel 6.

"Awesome, found an inn!" Wada says, and we both go inside, paying 10 Gil to rest.
One of the best yet, Motomu!
LOL you had to use a Gameshark? You suck, Moto.
By the way, stop eating my lunch in the break room. I'm this close to putting in a Motomu Toriyama sideboss that the player can beat up on for the hell of it.
I made FFVII. What have you done with your life?

Entry #29: Sweet Release

Please forgive the lateness of my entry. My work on Final Fantasy XIII was done as soon as it released on December 17th. Now I am free of the shackles of this masterpiece of interactive entertainment.

Or, so I had thought. The reason this entry is so late is due to the fact that I have been playing this game non-stop. I knew that I designed good games, but holy shit! I impress myself sometimes.

Actually, no, that's not entirely true. As some people may know, I was not the only creative mind behind this project. Kitase helped out, and Nomura did too. Well, until he died, that is.

I have been scouring the internet, and all the wealth of unbiased opinions it contains (LOL). I have noted that the response to this masterpiece of interactive entertainment is not as positive as I had hoped. At first this fact depressed me, and I was sure that it was nothing more than an elaborate practical joke, most likely being perpetrated by the United Nations, or whoever the hell has the power to modify internet content.

But as I read deeper, I noticed that what fans were complaining about weren't the ideas that I had pitched for the game. Rather, they were complaining Kitase's ideas.

Linearity? Yeah, bullshit. I was fighting from day one for a game that would let you go anywhere and do anything. Want to take a gorilla into orbit around Cocoon? Want to set up an international drug ring and use Chocobos to smuggle cocaine? Want to screw finding out whatever your Focus is and instead invest gil in a strip club where Lightning, Vanille, and Fang work all night to pull in revenue?

My game would've let you do that and so much more. The sad fact is that I am not as respected at Square-Enix as Kitase is. Sadly, making trash like Final Fantasy VII and selling 10 million copies in order to put the company in the position it is today is held in higher esteem than creating true art.

(NOTE: Final Fantasy X-2 and Revenant Wings don't count.)

The point is, Kitase has more leverage when it comes to getting consideration for his ideas. When I bring up something, people do of course listen due to my god-tier public speaking skills. However, Kitase fights dirty. Whenever I have the floor, he will strip naked and curl up in the fetal position, crying and yelling something about FFVII and the company being nothing without him.

Naturally, if I were to do the same coupled with my natural talents, I could overpower his vast financial contributions to the company and get my ideas considered. But I have something that Kitase lacks: dignity. And I'm not going to lose it just to avoid having some tubes in this game.

So, long story short, the tubes weren't my idea and you can send your hate mail to Kitase.

Another complaint I've been hearing are the lack of towns and NPCs. This one is just stupid as fuck. If you want to spend 1,500 hours helping some dumb broad with no tits find her favorite blade of grass that she lost somewhere in town and has no idea where, here's what you do:

1. Go downtown
2. Hire a hooker
3. Beat the hell out of her
4. Hold a blade of grass to her face and tell her she loves it.
5. Repeat Step 3 until Step 4 works
6. Give her the blade of grass and tell her to go hide it in some obscure location in town, preferably somewhere that can only be reached by severely beating the shit out of wild animals or speaking to children who talk in riddles
7. Wait 24 hours
8. Return to her and ask her if she has the grass blade.
9. Perform sidequest.

IT'S THAT FUCKING EASY.

Taking the towns out was a Kitase idea anyway. If you hate it, send the mail to him and then perform the steps outlined above.

So, basically, the point I'm trying to get across is that if you hate anything about this game, it was most likely (read: definitely) an idea that Kitase thought up. However, as for the parts of the game you like, I humbly accept your gratitude and ask only for a small donation so that a statue may be erected in my honor. Gold isn't cheap.

Anyway, I'm going to get back to slamming people on the internet who have not played this game. By the way, Wada has asked me to inform everyone that he is now a veteran Modern Warfare 2 player, and he is looking for people to play online. A word of warning if you do play him: he loves to camp. His video game strategy is a lot like his business strategy: cheap.

Ohohoho. Oh, snap.
dude you are a jackass
Motomu Toriyama said...
Jackass? I'm motherfucking Motomu Toriyama.
What the hell, Moto? Just because I know how to negotiate doesn't mean I don't have dignity. I'm not Nomura.

By the way, stop eating my lunch in the break room. This is the last warning.
Kitase, if that is really you, I am really dissapointed in this piece of crap you call an Final Fantasy game. To think a 50 dollar game that came before it, could have more to do, than a flashy game with no content.

To think you had something to do with the best RPG's, and then starting with Final Fantasy X, you just went downhill.

Please don't make future FF games. I will mail you money donations, just to stop. You're ruining a series I love with those narrow paths.
Hmm... How much money would these donations consist of, exactly? Maybe we can cut a deal.
Motomu Toriyama said...
Kitase, you're a goddamn millionaire. How much more money do you need? If you don't stop you're going to turn into Wada someday, and one of him is too much already.

By the way, I will eat whatever is in the fridge THAT IS NOT CLEARLY LABELED. IT'S CALLED A SHARPIE, KITASE. USE IT IF YOU WANT TO SHOW THAT THE LUNCH IS YOURS.
Masashi Hamauzu said...
Yo, guys, I'm in some realllll deep shit. Bring spoons and bail money.
Yoichi Wada said...
You can't have too much money, Moto. Actually, I think if you slapped some nude Vanille sketches up on this blog of yours we could pull in revenue like crazy.
You should do it, Moto. You'd finally have an interesting entry on your blog.
Motomu Toriyama said...
Guys, stop spamming my goddamn blog!

Entry #30: Localized

Since the development on FFXIII officially ended, the staff decided to take a break and hold a mini-memorial for Nomura. You know, since Hamauzu killed him and all. It seems like a great time to hold it, since the only work we have left is to translate and localize the game for those goddamn North Americans and Europeans who won't learn our language.

We don't take localization very seriously at all. Say anything positive about localization and you're likely to have your nuts torn clean off your body.

Actually, half the localization process is spent turning trash cans into basketball hoops and playing horse with crumpled up pieces of paper. Sure, there's always the occasional newbie who shows up and asks whether or not we're going to tone down the anime elements of the game and make it more like...I dunno...Leona Lewis or whatever the hell Americans like. We just ignore him and continue playing horse.

Nomura's memorial went by quite smoothly. People said kind things, like people usually do at funerals. But I know deep down they were glad that they would no longer have to hear the haunting sound of a million belts and zippers clashing against each other every time Nomura took a step.

I was put in charge of picking the portrait to display at the memorial. I chose one that I knew Nomura would like. The thing is, Nomura has this ritual that he goes through every time he designs a character. He will dress up as the character he is designing in order to find out just how many more articles of clothing he can take off without bumping the game up to an M-rating. When he finds the threshold, that becomes the final character design. The portrait I chose was from years back, when he was designing Tidus:

I told everyone that I believed it showed him achieving what he had always wanted to achieve: the look of a metrosexual water polo player.

Anyway, after the memorial we jump right back into the localization process. I'm sitting there rolling a piece of paper up into a ball. I already have the letters "H-O-R-S" and am just one miss away from getting an "E". I have to focus my entire will and concentration into this shot... I can just feel Kitase standing there ready to shout "Brick!" as soon as I shoot in order to throw off my concentration... I can sense Wada counting the money he's bet on this game... I have only one shot... Great Cthulhu, help me guide this ball safely into that--

"Excuse me, Mr. Toriyama?"

Just as I shoot, I hear someone address me. Kitase shouts "BRICK!" as loud as he can, and Wada starts laughing maniacally. The shot misses and I sit there for a good five minutes cussing the hell out of everything in existence.

I finally turn to the newbie who interrupted me and find him holding a copy of the localized script for the game. Apparently he wants me to look over it and see if it's "culturally appropriate". The only thing I want to do is tell him to shove it and tell those Americans that they can either take this game as it is or fuck off, but upon realizing that about half the world will miss this masterpiece of interactive entertainment if the game is not localized properly I suck it up and look over the script.

And holy shit is it the biggest piece of garbage I've read in a while. Snow is a fucking douchebag, Vanille is nothing more than a sentient pair of tits, and Hope is just a whiny little shit with a boomerang.

And great Cthulhu, the story. Who the fuck wrote this story? This is not the script I finalized a year ago. My script was a neo-noir drama set in 1930s New York. It revolved around a hard-boiled detective named Thunder Ballza, and he had sex with more women than you can even begin to count. In fact, the entire story was supposed to be one long orgy with quick-time events for you to keep the rhythm going.

In fact, Thunder Ballza's sex moves were so dangerous that messing up on the quick-time events would result in certain death for both him and everyone in a thirty-mile radius.

Needless to say, I wrote a gripping story filled with tension and imminent death.

But...Jesus ****ing Christ, what is this about them expressing their feelings? They changed Thunder Ballza from a sex-god into a most-likely sex-depraved woman named Lightning. Ballza's personal bitch Glory was renamed Hope, and his dog was split in two and renamed Vanille and Snow. Sazh and Fang are the only characters from my original script that remain intact, but they've been promoted from their positions as 1970s porno cameramen with bad mustaches into party members.

As I look over this script, my stomach begins to turn. The newbie stands there expectantly, and I give him one look before I stand up and back hand him with all the force my arm will allow.

Entry #31: Backlash

For the past two months or so I've been touring the world to control some of the insanity surrounding the reviews of FFXIII and explain some of the design choices we made. I really think the critics are looking at this from a Western point of view (read: a fucking retarded one) and unfairly rating the game down.

You might have read my statement on the official website. Well, let me tell you that it was changed heavily from its original draft. You can easily find the edited statement on the official site (or even by doing a topic search of my name on the pool of festering anal leakage that is the GameFAQs FFXIII board), so I won't put the full edited statement here. What I would like to share is the original draft that I had written, and I will let you know right now that it was not as nice.

Just to put this in perspective before I show you the original: I wrote this at about 4 AM on a hellish bender with 80 gigs of Asian porn infecting my computer with some trojan or another. I had to get this typed up before the blue screen of death came up to figuratively castrate me and destroy all my efforts. As a result, things like correct spelling and a coherent point are nonexistent. After fixing my computer, I decided to just forget those things entirely for the sake of consistency and submitted this statement to be put up on the site. Here it is in its entirety:

"gretings mothersucg westensrs or shoud i say FRGS! Yu rea;;y think pupihuyd are s awesme but madd efict suc assholes like gravye. god hw i pish the tracks hd gute al u moweehtefyckars. fauinbe fantaji sdtuin fck xbo n go ps#. LINEEER GODIM TWNZ FYCKER. FK+CK ASS TROJIN. FCUKC AS ASIN PORN FUKC IN EVIUTHING UP!!!!!!!!!! DRAMA COCUN PULSE FCUCK ASS TROAJN."

Needless to say, the edited version was a lot easier to comprehend. But that doesn't mean that my point was left intact. In fact, the entire message of my statement was changed. Here, now, on my blog where I am FUCKING UNTOUCHABLE, I will post a coherent version of my statement, because I will not be censored, and you all deserve to know the truth:

"Greetings, fellow homosexual westerners. You believe that your superiority is well-placed due to titles such as Mass Effect, but said game is not of very high quality despite being a critical and commercial success. I know we have received complaints about Fainaru Fantaji Satiin being linear and lacking traditional RPG towns, and in response I would like to kindly suggest that anyone making these claims find the biggest broomstick that they can and insert it vigorously into their anuses so as to simulate self-penetration. Foul, filthy trojan virus, how thou infecteth me and mine property. Begone from the curse of thy lovely, sensous Asian porneth, and let me jacketh off in peace.

--Moto"

I hope this clears up a lot of my feelings towards the Western reviews and bolsters FFXIII to the status of a legendary title, which it will no doubt achieve once it is released in North America and Europe. Now, I leave you to continue with damage control, and humbly hope that you await the release of Fainaru Fantaji Satiin with erections and bated breath.

P.S. - Anyone who knows how to get rid of a trojan, send me some tips. I'm typing this from a computer at the library since my actual computer has been rendered completely inoperable by the virus, and I need to get my computer restored so that I can stop getting looks from the librarian for just one flash of nude flesh on the screen. Someone needs to loosen up!
I told you we should've left in the towns, Moto. None of this would've been happening if you'd listened to me.

By the way, to get rid of the virus you have to delete the System32 folder. It's where all the viruses hide.
Motomu Toriyama said...
That System32 thing didn't work. I'm just lucky I tried it on your computer first.
Masashi Hamauzu said...
I'm glad I went freelance.
Tetsuya Nomura said...
You're a fucking douchebag.
Motomu Toriyama said...
Goddamn, Nomura, just stay dead.

3 комментария:

  1. Ох чёрт, ТД, ты чёртов адский труженник. Все же думали что сия благодать утеряна в веках. Как видно, рукописи не горят.

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  2. ааааа
    я прочитал эту простыню и не пожалел ни об одной секунде :))

    спасибо!

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