Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
Final Fantasy Adventu is a roleplaying forum inspired by the Final Fantasy series. Images on the site are edited by KUPO of FF:A with all source material belonging to their respective artists (i.e. Square Enix, Pixiv Fantasia, etc). The board lyrics are from the Final Fantasy song "Otherworld" composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by The Black Mages II.
The current skin was made by Pharaoh Leap of Pixel Perfect. Outside of that, individual posts and characters belong to their creators, and we claim no ownership to what which is not ours. Thank you for stopping by.
Aljana. A vast desert kingdom surrounded by hot sands and bathed in hotter sunlight. Structures of brick and mud, conceived by architects familiar with these inhospitable climes, throw a myriad of colors at its people in the form of woven tapestries and canvas rooftops. These same citizens proved to be just as vibrant and full of vitality, haggling and trading their wares amidst the city markets and gossiping over the latest happenings to occur inside its boundaries. Dulcimers, clarinets, and brass chimes fill the streets with music that draw passersby at every opportunity, and money for the performers' respective coffers. Children laugh and play amongst one another, free of any fears their parents may have had for their safety. The scene is nothing short of idealistic.
It is also wholly foreign to the great mime Gogo, who could not comprehend just how, when, where, what, or why they had found themselves displaced in so abrupt a manner! Perhaps if there was even a who to attribute these circumstances to, then there might be a course for recompense! Alas, the Master of Mimicry had nothing to form a theory around, as one moment they had closed their eyes to sleep, clearly with the intention of following his fellow Returners off to the realm of slumber, and the next they were here, surrounded by strangers in an even stranger world!
This was just like the Zone Eater, all over again! Except there's people now!
In a very visible way, the eccentrically-dressed emulator did nothing but stand completely still as the people of Aljana, tourist and civilian alike, passed around their presence as if they were a garishly decorated statue, some of them throwing a few confused glanced in their direction. Frozen in place, Gogo stayed, unwilling to draw attention to themselves, and failing to accomplish this feat all the while.
Aljana had given her a warm welcome. This was day four of her stay, though her gil on hand would not last forever. Locals had spoken of cities to the far west, and Fran resolved to travel out that way as conditions would permit. For the time being, she was busy getting acquainted with just where she was, the customs, the people. There were many unknowns and many questions, so learning and patience were key. The thought of not returning to Ivalice was not a possibility in her mind: it was "when," not "if." But for as long as she was in this world, she would make the best of it.
Pirates were adaptable and Fran was not one to shy away from any journey---this one included.
She was crossing a square beside one of the markets when a strange figure caught her eye. Drawing closer, the figure was very much alive. It looked and smelled unlike the people here. Maybe another tourist? She had met her share of them.
Slowing her long strides to a complete stop, Fran looked the figure up and down, becoming suspicious of its total lack of movement. This person, whoever they were, was stone still and just as quiet. Was there magic at play? Stop? Petrify?
"Do you need aid?" she asked, tone more curious than concerned.
"Do you need aid?" The distinctive accent of a tall, swarthy woman in strange attire and bearing an equally distinguishing pair of rabbit's ears had easily broken through the all-consuming screen of paranoia surrounding Gogo, eliciting a few hurried blinks from the eccentrically dressed figure.
Once it became apparent that they were, indeed, being talked to, Gogo adjusted all senses to focus more clearly on this new person, who they could tell had far more experience traveling these foreign lands at just a glance; tall and proud, carries herself with a quiet kind of dignity, the sort you keep close to the chest and fiercely guarded. Maybe she was just curious?
Either way, Gogo dramatically stretched both arms out without warning, bringing one back around so that it rested in front of their breast until the multicolored mimic performed a theatrical bow. "Aid? Yes! Somehow displaced, I seem to have found myself." Their intonation appeared to lack any sort of forethought with regards to their own mysterious circumstances. Like the rabbit-eared woman, it was more curiosity than concern. "Pray tell, young miss. What land is this?"
The blinks were a good sign; movement meant they had some level of control of their body. The sudden outward reach of the stranger's arms, however, would rend a knee-jerk reaction from the taller woman---Fran flinched, bringing her hands up as if there was some instinct to absorb an impending blow. Yet none came, and the stranger bowed before her instead.
It had not been magic affliction after all.
She narrowed her eyes, slowly dropping her arms back to her sides as the oddly dressed one explained their situation. Displaced? And they knew not which land this was.
Had this person also been mysteriously drawn to this world by strange forces?
"This is Zephon," she replied, red eyes laid sharp upon the smallest of the stranger's movements. They did not present as a threat, but Fran was still on edge, her senses swarmed, with the newness of this place.
"You hail from...someplace else?"
Her phrasing was vague. Either it would coax out specifics from the stranger or they'd reflect her verbal tip-toeing.
Granted, only a matter of days ago she had landed among the sands and questioned the locals in the same way, learning of her mystical transport from Ivalice. But it was unwise to announce that vulnerability to just anyone, and she was still trying to get a clear read on who--or what--this brightly garbed figure was.
"Zephon, you say?" Gogo parrots the word several more times in silence, pacing back and forth as they chewed on each syllable, familiarizing themselves with its cadence. It was perfectly obvious by now that Gogo was speculating on the truthfulness of the rabbit-eared woman's statement, but her choice of words yielded enough of a clue for the master mime to realize that they were being probed for data.
Monkey see, monkey do.
"But of course! Alien, am I, to this realm," explained Gogo, absent of any ulterior motives beyond a simple need to connect with this stranger, flighty as they may have seemed. In fact... "But, it would seem that I may not be the only one to suffer such a predicament, either! Truly elated for this realization, I am!" Gogo let out a coy smile, not that she would be able to see it underneath the shawl they wore. Were they aware of something that the lady was trying to hide? Or were they simply being sly for mischief's own sake?
With a grand spin, Gogo suddenly starts to emulate the rabbit-eared woman's posture, despite being visibly shorter and far less lithe by comparison. Closer inspection of their movements would result in a sensation like gazing deep into a mirror, where every single detail, down to the last microscopic movement, reflected back at the observer in full.
"There are no strangers here. Only friends that we have not yet been introduced to," Gogo would then say, in perfect replication of the woman's own voice. It was but a taste of Gogo's indelible talent for the art of imitation. They extend a hand forward, hoping to seal their greeting with a formal gesture of courtesy, before speaking aloud in their usual, ambiguous intonation, "I am Gogo, Master of the Simulacrum. Enchanted to make your acquaintance!"
The strangely dressed one claimed to be alien to this land, even going so far as to assume they were not alone in that. Was the implication that she, too, was alien? Fran had been careful not to outright state that, but she could not help what another chose to assume...even if they were right.
When the other decided to spin, Fran was much more expectant of the movement this time, and she watched with a strange sense of familiarity as the colorful one appeared to...copy her? The idle movement of her hands at her sides, even her breathing. What a bizarre feeling this was. Fran had never met anyone who had acted in such a way.
What was the purpose?
With a raised brow, she eyed the figure when the voice that next spoke was her own. She took but a small step backward, curious but otherwise unsure what to make of the display. Was this, perhaps, not a hume, but a more sophisticated mimic taking the shape of one?
She had questions.
But the strange one offered a hand--at least their form of greeting was common enough--and gave their name. Gogo. Their title, "master of the simulacrum" seemed to suit them, from what Fran understood of the words.
After hesitating a moment and deciding that this Gogo individual seemed relatively friendly all things considered, Fran gave her own hand in return.
"I am Fran," she said. She was obvious in studying her new acquaintance, many unspoken questions wandering her head until finally a single one made it to her lips.
"Do you imitate all you meet?" Or was there something special about her?
The rabbit-woman, calling herself 'Fran', decides to humor the colorful mime and returns their handshake with nothing less than a soft leeriness. She was unsure if their behavior was exclusive only to her, or if the imitator copied everybody they came across.
"Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery," Gogo spoke, again impersonating Fran's inflections to drive the point home, before chuckling in their usual tone of voice. "It is Gogo's purpose in life to serve as a mirror for others, for life itself is but a myriad of reflections reflecting reflections, and life deserves to appreciate itself." No matter where you looked or how much of an individual somebody may appear to be, there was always something about their identity that stands as a duplication of somebody else's.
Gogo lets a hand hover in front of the space where their mouth ought to be, and then chuckles again, only much more softly than before. "In this regard, consider Gogo an artist of exceptional caliber! There is nobody, nothing, that Gogo cannot mimic."
Having said all that, it dawns on the master emulator that they were doing most of the talking. It can't be helped; it's been far too long since Gogo has had an opportunity to speak about their greatest passions! "And Gogo can certainly tell at a glance that Fran draws much inspiration from someone, as well! A compliment to you. It is good to have role models."
Once more, Gogo took on her voice and spoke, claiming that imitation was flattery. They were...trying to flatter her? But Fran found nothing specifically flattering about someone copying her voice or movements.
What Gogo revealed about their purpose, though, did answer some of the questions Fran had about their behavior. Gogo's wording was a little complex and she wasn't sure that she agreed about their actions qualifying as "art," but in the end, their motives seemed kind, maybe even helpful to some?
People did deserve appreciation--that, she did agree on.
And apparently this being was so skilled that they would claim to be able to copy absolutely anything. While that would remain to be seen, their confidence was harmless, and Fran chose not to dash their mood with added skepticism.
Her brow raised with Gogo's observation that Fran herself drew inspiration from someone. Was that really something this mimic could sense at a glance? Maybe magically? Or were they making assumptions again?
Still, they weren't very far off the mark.
"I suppose I do," she agreed, thinking about her allies back home. If she had taken inspiration from anyone, first and foremost it would have been Balthier. Prior to becoming a sky pirate, Fran had wandered the world at random, and outside of simply experiencing things, she had not had anything driving her beyond curiosity. Then he'd come along and shown her pieces of the world she likely never would have seen on her own.
"I am not sure he qualifies as a role model, but..." She trailed off. It was probably better not to reveal anything too specific to a stranger.
"Do you have comrades nearby?" Fran asked. Someone this eccentric wouldn't travel alone, would they? That would invite all kinds of bad company.
It was fun, watching Fran struggle to determine whether Gogo's talent for observation had some kind of preternatural origin, but it was painfully transparent by now that they had no tricks up their sleeves, literally or figuratively. Having an eye for the smallest details enabled Gogo to notice far more than what she allowed to be seen on the surface—they could even obtain information about the very things, or people, that passively influenced their lives, simply by way of inference and deductive reasoning.
But Gogo was not here to prove a point, even if the woman had practically confirmed their suspicions by making mention of a 'he'. So, it is a man that acts as her influence? Quite understandable, the mime speculated internally; a lady of Fran's caliber could not be approached by mere boys.
Fran trails off into another question, one that provokes a despondent sigh from Gogo, followed by a visible slumping of their colorful shoulders. "Wherever they may be, surely they cannot be here," said Gogo, this time with a noticeably lower register to their voice, one evocative of sadness. "Gogo is all alone, I'm afraid. Don't you know?" The copycat let out a wry chuckle, unable to disguise the sorrow that sat at the bottom of their heart, but willing to try all the same.
It must be true. Wherever they were, it wasn't their own world, which could only mean that their companions were not here, as well. If such a thing were even possible, would they remember the great and peerless Gogo?
These were not questions that could be answered now. Rather, what was more important was making a good first impression, and it would not do for the illustrious mimic Gogo to mope like some forlorn softling! "But friends with anyone, Gogo can be! Does Fran have lots of friends? Can Gogo meet them?" It was perhaps the first instance where Gogo was not actively trying to probe for data, but this was also a working example of just how little socializing the mime got to do.
The mimic was alone, or so they claimed. Their voice sounded genuine enough, though, and Fran's sensitive ears did not pick up any of the subtle tension of an obvious lie. She offered a simple, "I see." Both with a sliver of empathy and of acknowledgment for all that their lack of allies would imply.
If not for her own time spent traveling alone, Fran might have felt equally as saddened for the very same reason. But this world, in the same way that it was foreign, also felt strangely like a return to something familiar, something buried well by the years and seasons.
But she had only just arrived, so the mimic's question about meeting her friends would be met with a soft shake of her head. She had been brought to the desert by herself, and she had not walked this land long enough to call anyone here an ally, much less a friend.
"For now, I am unable to contact them," she said, choosing not to give the context of why. Though she did not know for certain if others from Ivalice were here as well, she also had no way of finding out one way or another.
"You are quick to make friends," she observed flatly, and her eyes roamed over the crowds again, taking in the movements of those passing closest to them before fluttering around the masses. "For me, it...takes time."
In her own way, though, Fran was trying to accommodate the mimic. This odd character, Gogo, had not deceived her--not that she could tell--and it was very possible they were just trying to reach out in an otherwise isolating situation. For that, she could not blame them.
"I will soon travel west," she said, finally returning her gaze to the mimic. "I hear much of cities with abundant work for travelers." Assuming herself as a traveler felt better than implying she was some sort of stray in this world.
"Will you stay in Aljana or chance the roads?" Maybe they would run into each other again, beyond today?
