In the video game Crisis Core, one of the main characters, Genesis, is obsessed with a poem titled Loveless. Thanks to the developers’ creative efforts, the five-act ballad is a full-fledged piece of art, both in English and Japanese, and it has been featured in Final Fantasy game releases spanning almost 30 years.
Whereas most of those games turn Loveless into a small easter egg, however, in Crisis Core, Genesis insists on bending the entire storyline to fit his favorite poem’s narrative. Three friends, a goddess bearing a mysterious gift, estrangement, strife, and sacrifice: Loveless has it all. So when Genesis’ original plan to cure his genetic disease fails, he figures why not turn himself into a tragic hero?
As he recites line after line from Loveless every time you encounter him, Genesis sure has an idea of how he’d like things to go. For him. For you. For both of your childhood friends. But even in his determination, he admits he doesn’t truly know which role he will play. Will it be the hero? The prisoner? The lost friend to make a last-minute return? It seems Genesis almost doesn’t mind.
In the end, Genesis won’t become the hero he wishes to be. Yet, somehow, he’ll still see most of Loveless enacted in a way that makes him proud to have been part of “the production.” And as fans and players try to decipher the poem’s real meaning, perhaps it issues one reminder to us above all: It’s okay to write a script for your life—and even if you don’t get to be the protagonist, it can still be worth the while. After all, if the play is great, what does it matter which role you’ll portray?
“Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return,” some of Loveless‘ final lines read. So if your current performance does not have a happy ending, remember the parts that deserve your gratitude—and then whip out your pen and write the next lyric.