In truth, we are aberrations.
Forces too strong to permit resistance, and indeed, the story should be told from their side: of how six warriors, three at any given time, laid waste to the worst laid plans of aggression and resistance to the Resistance, a billion, trillion, quadrillion times in a row — because they cannot be stopped.
This game follows the shroud of death as it humps along the backs of the Va’an Guards. It’s too easy. It barely matters what classes were chosen. We could have been six white mages and still farted the Leviathan to a floating cindery death.
That was once the standard — the greatest challenge of Final Fantasy I was to make your party entirely White Mages and see if you could destroy Chaos. Almost a diss class.
But if we’re going to diss classes, I have a major pork rind with the Samurai class in FFXII Intl. — for all the awesomeness that comes with it being able to wield the two handed Japanese sword, the license board is filled to the brim with power-ups for magic spells, of which the Samurai can cast none. What is the good god damn fuck, motherfuckers? Was it too hard to split jobs into twelve distinct classes? Seriously — imagine you get this huge bonus to your, uh… vagina powers and you’re a dude with a penis. What the fuck are you going to do with all those fucking vagina powers, huh? It’s dumpfucked up — a joke class. An insult to the descendants of actual samurai and gamers in general.
I’m glad I didn’t pick that class. It might have actually made this round challenging.