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.
"Gogo understands," said the iridescently-dressed imitator, replicating Fran's own terse reply with one of their own. She spoke only the facts; of this, Gogo was certain. Neither of them were native to this world, even if she wasn't inclined to admit so herself. Fran's anxious gaze to the passing crowds betrayed her firm exterior. If anything, her unspoken worries did nothing but exacerbate the mime's own.
She then spoke of her intentions to move westward. Instinctively, Gogo wished to follow in Fran's footsteps, although it was just as logical to obtain a lay of the land, see what it was they were precisely dealing with here.
"Admittedly, Gogo does not have a plan," the mime elaborated with a resigned shrug. "This one's talents meet very few niches. It is unlikely that anyone would appreciate Gogo for very long. Not many are keen to have this one copy every aspect of their identity." Memories of sitting aboard the Falcon numerous times, waiting for an opportunity to prove their worth to the Returners, crossed Gogo's mind, leaving them a hair more incensed than they were before the start of these transdimensional shenanigans.
Reminding themselves of Fran with regards to their admittance of such a thing, Gogo bowed forward ever so slightly. "Gogo apologizes if they have insulted you with their display earlier. This one only wished to prove that there is value to their abilities."
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 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."
"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!"
"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?"
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.
