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nadziejastar · 4 years

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What are your thoughts on the various types of lesser Nobodies?

The members of the Organization each had their own distinctive weapons that didn’t exactly cooperate if someone else tried to use them, but Keyblades were even more particular. If someone else so much as tried to pick it up, a Keyblade would simply return to its wielder’s hand. Or so Xion had heard.

We should have gotten to learn how the members of the organization got their weapons.

Nobodies derived their personalities and abilities from memories of their human lives. But what exactly were those abilities? What gave rise to them? The answer that came to mind was the presence of memory itself. They were chained by their memory, and in those bonds was power. So it was probably fair to say that Roxas and Xion were bound by the same memory.

And we should have learned how they got their “personalities” and abilities, too. The Nobodies they control are one of those abilities, no doubt. They should be based off of specific memories from when they were human. Which means that the organization members should have gotten a MUCH more flesh out backstory than they got. I’m really disappointed that most of them remained so flat, even including the popular ones like Axel. He may have been very likable, but his backstory in KH3 left him very flat.

Sorcerer

A sorcerer, magician, or “witch” attempts to influence the surrounding world through occult (i.e., hidden, as opposed to open and observable) means.

There should have been a story/lore based reason for each of their fighting styles. There are no lesser Nobodies based on Vexen/Zexion. It probably means that those two did not have any fighting abilities as humans, which makes sense. But the rest of the organization probably did fight as humans, thus they can control Nobodies based off of that fighting style.

Sniper

A sniper is a marksman who operates to shoot people from a concealed position. Snipers generally have specialized training and are equipped with high-precision rifles and high-magnification optics, and often feed information back to their units or command headquarters.

Braig was a sniper when he was a castle guard.

Dragoon

Dragoon, in late 16th-century Europe, a mounted soldier who fought as a light cavalryman on attack and as a dismounted infantryman on defense. The terms derived from his weapon, a species of carbine or short musket called the dragoon.

Dilan was a dragoon.

XaldinHe has the image of a medieval Chinese military commander. He is excellent at strategizing, and a powerful soldier. I’m sure the players all know that he is a contender for the first or second strongest in the Organisation. I’m satisfied that I was able to depict that strength in his personality, too. I personally really like this character.–Nomura

But he was also based on a Chinese military commander. We didn’t get to learn much about Dilan. What was his motivation? Why did he side with Xehanort?

Watching that foolish beast flail about only deepens my disdain for humans and their incessant need to be pinned down by feelings. We became Nobodies precisely to avoid the shackles of emotion. It was only later that we realized the scale of that loss: that some things simply cannot be done without a heart. Nonetheless, I see nary a pleasant thing about it.

Why did he want to get rid of his emotions and why did he consider them a weakness? What was his opinion of Ansem the Wise, and how did he feel when he was banished? Did he want to take over Radiant Garden?

Samurai

The ideal samurai was supposed to be a stoic warrior who followed an unwritten code of conduct, later formalized as Bushidō, which held bravery, honour, and personal loyalty above life itself; ritual suicide by disembowelment (seppuku) was institutionalized as a respected alternative to dishonour or defeat.

Aeleus was a samurai.

LexaeusHe’s a character with strength to rival Xaldin. While Xaldin has power plus technique, I’d say to Lexaeus is more of a samurai, or that he has bushido-style strength. If you listen to his very last line in Re:COM, I think you’ll be able to see his spirit. I wanted to do more with this character.–Nomura

Nomura said his final words showed his spirit.

Lexaeus: You are the Superior’s—Forgive me, Zexion. This was a fight I should not have started.

In Re:CoM, these are his last words. He seems to have some honor and was loyal to Zexion.

Lexaeus gave him a cruel smile. “Hmph…so I must accept my defeat here. But do not make the mistake of underestimating the darkness in me! As I am destroyed, it will leave this ruined vessel and drown you!”

Then there was a terrible shock wave far greater than what Riku had felt from the darkness that Lexaeus radiated before the battle.

“Wh…what’s happening?!” A relentless swirl of darkness surrounded him, swallowing him up until he disappeared into it.

Lexaeus laughed madly. “This is my strength… I, number five in the organization… I who was once his favorite pupil!” Those were Lexaeus’s final words before he vanished into the darkness.

In the novel, there’s an extended final scene with his final words where he apparently commits seppuku and says he was “his” favorite pupil. Who’s favorite pupil? Ansem? Xehanort? We’ll probably never know.

Berserker

Berserker, Norwegian berserk, Old Norse berserkr (“bearskin”), in premedieval and medieval Norse and Germanic history and folklore, a member of unruly warrior gangs that worshipped Odin, the supreme Norse deity, and attached themselves to royal and noble courts as bodyguards and shock troops. The berserkers’ savagery in battle and their animal-skin attire contributed to the development of the werewolf legend in Europe. These Viking berserkers were infamous for fighting in a violent rage, recklessly charging at their enemies without armor or any other protection, and seemingly without concern for their own health.

Saïx is a strange case. Unlike the apprentices, we never saw Isa fighting as a human. He was just a kid. So how did he become a berserker of all things?

Prayers are uttered to Odin, as the object of contemplation. Why Odin and not the wolf, bear, or whatever? The berserk trance is brought about by Odin, he is the inspirer, that which brings something outside the self within the self. This is ond, inspiration, or vital breath. This triggers the wod, or fury and possession, which is where the wolf, bear, or whatever comes in. As a god, Odin is a “larger” concept than the animal, and so the effect he has upon the mind during the ritual will be the greater.

Berserkers worshiped Odin. To go berserk, they needed to meditate on him and receive divine inspiration. In other words, they couldn’t just go berserk at will. The needed to meditate upon a divine purpose to go berserk.

Do you know what happens to those who lose their true purpose? Inevitably, they destroy themselves.

I think Saïx was the same.

It infuriated me how you just exited our lives. I lost…all sense of purpose.

He needed a purpose to go berserk.

Yes, I thought you didn’t need me anymore. If you didn’t need me, then I no longer held meaning.

For him, it was Lea.

Saïx hesitated for a second, and Roxas ran at him.

He blocked the Keyblade.

Long ago—I remember, I didn’t hate fighting. Saïx flung his claymore at Roxas.

And so, Saïx remembered things from a long, long time ago.

My theory is that Saïx would need to meditate on his purpose before he could go berserk. Before he went berserk fighting Roxas, he thought back to a time before he hated fighting. Back when he had someone to protect and fighting actually had meaning.

Assassin

A murderer of an important person in a surprise attack for political or religious reasons.

One of the things I disliked about KH3 was its characterization of Axel/Lea and seemingly retconning his role as an assassin. On the clock tower, Axel and Saïx revealed their shared goal of finding Subject X. Saïx wanted to work his way to the top of the organization hierarchy so he could find out what happened to her. Axel said that he couldn’t keep up with Saïx and his willingness to do the icky jobs Xemnas wanted them to do to achieve that rank.

This flies in the face of ALL the hints from the previous games about their shared objective:

In order for Sora—no, for Roxas to live, and also for us to accomplish our own goal, Zexion is in the way. And, if it’s for the sake of our own goal, we already decided what to do, that time.

In the novel, Axel references their shared goal and how they decided to do whatever it took. Zexion was in the way and Axel killed him.

Given the right memories, the Replica could mimic the powers of the original. Which meant that if he were implanted with somebody else’s memories, he would, hypothetically, gain other powers. Somebody’s—or maybe even a Nobody’s. He had one particular Nobody in mind. All the members of the Organization were still influenced by the memories of their human lives.

Here, it references Axel’s memories of his human life as a reason he wants to use the Riku Replica to defeat someone and absorb their powers. Sounds like Axel was, at least partially, motivated by revenge.

Axel let out a breath. “Look, I knew Vexen and Zexion would cause trouble for you. That’s why they’re not around anymore.”

That sounded more like he was justifying it to himself, Axel thought. Their lack of hearts didn’t render their actions meaningless. It wasn’t as if they never thought carefully or acted without objectives in mind. Humans and Nobodies alike would pursue their own purposes.

“The dirty work doesn’t bother me,” Axel went on. “You just make for the top.” There was nothing false in that, and he looked Saïx in the eye as he said it. Saïx stared hard back at him. Right. We have our own agenda.

Again, it demonstrates how Axel was always the one willing to do the dirty work to achieve their goal.

“Everything is back to normal. Of course this is for the best, isn’t it?”

The reason I’m unable to answer Saïx is probably because I depend on him, thought Axel.

“Xemnas has also been irritated at the recent changes in plan. Everything has to go back to normal, for the sake of our goal too… Lea.”

Axel finally looked over at the sound of that nostalgic name. Saïx was looking at him. It made him think of his time as a human, and the memories came surging back.

Here, Saïx is trying to coerce Axel into killing Xion for the sake of their goal. He never even considers doing it himself. It sounds like Axel was always the one who handled the icky jobs like killing, not Saïx. Because, obviously, that was Axel’s job. He was the assassin.

I just did what I thought was the best thing at the time. For Roxas, for Xion, for the Organization—and for Isa. But most of all for me.

Axel was at first willing to kill Xion. And who was he doing it for? Isa. And for himself. Because he needed Isa. He emotionally depended on him. Saïx knew Axel needed him and manipulated him by calling him “Lea”.

Axel didn’t care anymore about what the Organization needed, what Xion or Roxas wanted, or even what was supposed to be good for the worlds. He had been using the Organization for his own ends from the start. The only thing that had changed in the meantime was who it was all for. Maybe Saïx would call that a betrayal. But his world had changed.

It doesn’t sound like Axel’s willingness to kill had anything to do with Subject X or finding information about her. It sounds like Axel was wiling to kill for Saïx. He and Saïx wanted to take over the organization for Saïx’s sake.

What were you really after, Lea? We joined the Organization at the same time, and formulated our plan. At this point, it’s just an idle fantasy. Everything changed. You, and me.

When Axel refused to do what Saïx wanted and left the organization, he apparently didn’t need him anymore. And Saïx couldn’t handle that.

Yes, I thought you didn’t need me anymore. If you didn’t need me, then I no longer held meaning.

Of course, Axel’s motivation was retconned in KH3. Instead of Isa being his reason for staying in the organization, it became Subject X/Skuld. And along with that change, Axel’s role as an assassin was whitewashed. Maybe the idea of the fan-favorite Axel being happily willing to ruthlessly murder people didn’t seem appropriate anymore. Especially if it was no longer not for his best friend, but for a girl who is basically a stranger to him. I dunno. But I think it’s BS.

Dancer

A warrior who dances across the battlefield, garbed in colorful raiments. Tends to have low stats and specializes in support magic.

Demyx was a dancer.

DemyxFrom the beginning he was created as a light-hearted character, but his voice actor really made him stand on his own as a character despite the short appearances he had. He is by no means strong, so I think it’s funny how you don’t see it coming when his abilities make him a formidable opponent. His line before exiting was something I thought of on the spot and had them add in.–Nomura

He is described as not very strong. We never got to see him as a human, but he was probably a performer.

Gambler

(Bakuto, 博徒) were itinerant gamblers in Japan from the 18th century to the mid-20th century. They were one of the forerunners of the modern Japanese crime gangs known as yakuza. Bakuto plied their trade in feudal Japan, playing traditional games such as hanafuda and dice. They were mostly social outcasts who lived outside the laws and norms of society.

Luxord has still not received a backstory. I think we can tell a lot about him with this, though.

LuxordIn all honesty he is my absolute favourite Organisation member. I like how he treats everything as a gamble, like Setzer from FFVI of old. I actually wanted to make him stand out more. At least I got him to say some things during the meeting scene added to KH2 FM+… but Luxord should have been able to do so much more…–Nomura

Nomura wanted to do more with him.

The nation of Lucis was said to have worked akin to a mafia crime family since the nation’s ancient beginnings, and despite its peace was said to have engaged in strict rule, including a ban on firearms and a lockdown in the capitol city. Noctis was the crown prince, and Regis the current king. Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto—Noctis’s team members—acted as his entourage akin to a Yakuza kyodai-shatei structure.

Maybe his gambler/bakuto job is the reason why he’s apparently going to have a connection to the Verum Rex world. In Re:Mind, Yozora’s driver sounded like Luxord. And Luxord’s wild card is apparently going to be what helps Sora return.

Reaper

Death is frequently imagined as a personified force. In some mythologies, a character known as the Grim Reaper causes the victim’s death by coming to collect that person’s soul. Other beliefs hold that the Spectre of Death is only a psychopomp, serving to sever the last ties between the soul and the body, and to guide the deceased to the afterlife, without having any control over when or how the victim dies.

The Reaper and Ninja Nobodies were introduced in KH3. I think Marluxia’s intentions were supposed to be known by the time KH3 started. He wanted to bring his sister back. That’s why he wanted to control Sora and the Keyblade and take over Castle Oblivion. That’s something that should have been explored in the Dark Seeker Saga, explaining how Marluxia became a vessel. Maybe Xehanort convinced him that if he helped open Kingdom Hearts, he could reunite with his sister.

Ninja

A ninja (忍者) was a covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan. The functions of a ninja included espionage, deception, and surprise attacks. Their covert methods of waging irregular warfare were deemed dishonorable and beneath the honor of the samurai.

Larxene’s backstory is a Keyblade wielder from the age of fairy tales. But why was she a knife wielding ninja archetype character? What was her life like before she became a Nobody and tried to take over Castle Oblivion? How did she get so twisted and when did her hatred of men develop? What is the nature of her feelings for Marluxia? That’s what I wanna know.

#kh #organization xiii

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cherryjuicegf · 7 years

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The Redemption Song

(Note: So that’s my first fanfic, made especially for the Barricade Day. Forgive me for any writing mistakes, i’m greek and the translation was a bit difficult. Please send me a message when you read it, i’d love to know what you think)

All hope was lost now. He knew that. They all knew that. They were going to die and the revolution was going to die with them. It was obvious. You could see the fear in their eyes. The fear of the schoolboys who had never held a gun. The fear of death. The people had left them, their passion, their enthusiasm wasn’t enough to keep them all until the end. And the end could have been different if they were willing to fight for this common dream among les Amis, the dream of a better future, of equality. The dream of freedom. The few revolutionaries left were entering the café in an attempt to survive. They were deceiving themselves with fake hopes. It’s not easy to accept failure and death. But this was their fate. Enjolras was standing outside the door, waiting for everyone to get in before he did the same thing too. He was still alive, he tried to. But the wound on his shoulder wasn’t helping him. He was shot when he tried to save another man, a brother of his. He ignored it. There were more important things to do than paying attention to a wound. He was bleeding. He didn’t care. Some of les Amis were still out, and then a gunshot along with a scream covered all the other noises. «Jehan!!!» Combeferre hit the guardsman who had shoot Jehan with the cane of his carbine and run towards his dying friend. He fell on his knees, taking Jehan’s head on his hands. But it was too late. The bullet had found him on the chest. Jehan looked at him, his hands trembling. He was drowning in his own blood. «Long live the future Combeferre», he whispered weakly. «Long live the future…». He passed away with a smile of hope remaining on his lips, the hope of the poet. Combeferre sobbed and looked up to heavens, breathing heavily. Was this what he was fighting for? «Combeferre». He turned his head at the cracking voice calling him. Enjolras was still standing out of the door waiting for him. He barely held his tears. Combeferre stood up and unwillingly left his friend’s dead body to get in the café with Enjolras who closed the door behind him. It was the only thing he managed to do before the guardsmen started trying to break it. The two of them were the first to go up on the second floor. The door broke, the guardsmen got in. But their lives didn’t matter to them as much as the desperate cries they heard from downstairs. The gunshots didn’t let them last for long. Silence fell. On the second floor there was now Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly. They were the only ones left. The last ones. And they were dead. Although they hadn’t been shot yet, they were dead. The guardsmen didn’t get upstairs. They put their carbines on the ceiling. Enjolras couldn’t recognize his friends. Combeferre, once serious and calm, with great humor when it needed, was standing beside him, his agony and fear painted in his face. Joly, always smiling and having fun, without hesitating to show his brave soul at times, was now trembling. And Courfeyrac. The kind and happy Courfeyrac, willing to support his friends, to share their passion, was breathing heavily. They were his friends. And he had led them to death. Oh, he had definitely failed. Joly sighed. Courfeyrac looked at his friends crying. «It was my honor to be with you in this fight messieurs», he said. The others smiled nodding. And then the gunshots erased their smiles and the three of four were now lying on the floor, the blood gushing out of their wounds. Combeferre looked up. His voice came out soft but weak, as the voice of a dying young man. «Enjolras…» His friend’s eyes, who was still standing on his feet, met his. And then he saw it. He was crying. Enjolras, the chief, the brave young man, the marble lover of liberty, he was actually crying. His lips were moving but no words could come out of his mouth. His breath was cut. «Forgive me», he finally managed to say, but he didn’t even heard his voice. And he waited for Combeferre to speak, to forgive him for being responsible for all those lost lives. Forgiveness could give him a little more courage, so he could at least die in peace, without the guilt of loss haunting him even after his death. It was his redemption. Combeferre said nothing. He only moved his lips, staring at him with confidence and love. But he said nothing. He wouldn’t say anything ever again. He remained still and his eyes were not filled with emotions anymore. They were empty. Just like Enjolras’s soul. Empty. Then it was when sorrow overwhelmed him. And he felt the death of his friends hurt way more than his wound, the feelings of guilt were devouring him. He couldn’t stand the pain. He was strong, stronger than he could ever imagine. He did everything for Patria. For Frace. But he hadn’t considered it all. Not as much as he should have. He couldn’t help it, not this time. He made a few steps but didn’t feel his legs anymore. He sobbed, then fainted in the middle of the room and remained there, surrounded by the blood of his friends, those young revolutionaries who were killed by their own dreams. The guardsmen went up and saw the bodies lying on the floor. They supposed everyone was dead. And, for good or bad, they didn’t see anything else in the whole room to draw their attention. They left. The sun was slowly rising, spreading the light through the sky. The light that dozens of young men didn’t long to see, the light of tomorrow. Their souls were now climbing in heaven, singing the song that couldn’t be heard anymore. The streets were deserted, no one dared to get out. The silence was mourning instead of them. A ray of light caressed Enjolras’s cheek, who was unconscious for about two hours. He opened his eyes and felt incapable of moving for a couple of seconds. His whole body was aching. He took a deep breath and tried to get on his feet. He made a few steps staggering. His wounded arm had almost paralyzed. He stared at the dead bodies on the floor and then the memories hit him like a thunderstorm and the same feelings as two hours ago overwhelmed him. But he didn’t faint this time. He was doomed to suffer all those deaths, knowing that it was his fault. He went downstairs and got out of the café. The sight caused him shivers everywhere. Dead bodies all over the place, bodies of his friends. He spotted Jehan a few meters away from him. He was still smiling. He was resting in peace now. He was lucky. Everyone around him was lucky, luckier than he was. Why couldn’t he be one of them? He turned his head up to the sky, his eyes red and filled with tears. He swallowed. «Forgive me», he whispered. «Please». He got no response. He clenched his fists in an attempt to stay calm. «Will you forgive me?», he repeated louder with a trembling voice. The dead silence was killing him inside. He was sinking in the sea of his own desperation and he was hearing the voices in his head repeating the same four words: “It’s your fault”. He was breathing heavily. «Why aren’t you answering?», he shouted one last time, waiting in vain for a response and then his voice cracked. He left an agonizing cry, enough to express his despair and make the situation more depressing, and he threw away a broken chair. He was trembling, he hated himself and no one could help him. He would die, but it would be a harrowing death. He was alone. The crackling of the wooden stairs and the sound of footsteps on the floor broke the silence. Enjolras heard nothing, lost in his thoughts and slowly falling in depression. He sat on the wrecks of the barricade and hid his face in his hands. Someone appeared at the door and stood still. His breath was suddenly cut and few seconds later he called the name of the man he was hoping to see. «Enjolras…». At the sound of his name Enjolras turned slowly his head, his heart missing a beat. Someone had survive. He thought that was impossible. The guardsmen killed them all. And yet, there he was, standing at the doorstep and smiling at him hopefully. The man he never actually trusted, but considered a friend of his. He stood still, and his once angelic figure was now miserable and covered in blood. «Grantaire…», he mumbled, waiting for the man to look at him with hate and disappointment. He deserved that. He deserved to be hated. He ruined everything. «You are alive!», Grantaire exclaimed and made a few steps towards him, but Enjolras stood up and fended off, as like he was scared. And he was. He was scared of Grantaire’s compassion and love, he was persuaded he didn’t deserve them after what he had done. He couldn’t consider himself to be still loved. Grantaire understood. He wasn’t an expert at people’s feelings, but this time he understood. And sighed, waiting for Enjolras to speak. His friend’s expression changed from scared to serious and regretfull. He showed around with his hand. «Look what I have done, Grantaire…», he cried. «That’s all my fault!». Grantaire shook his head negatively and approached him. He saw a different Enjolras, a man he had never seen. A man drowning into misery, blaming himself for this situation. He wanted to help. «Enjolras», he said softly and touched his friend’s arm, taking a deep breath. «You know as well as I and all our dearest friends up there who are now looking at you that… That’s not actually your fault.» His words, spoken with determination, hit Enjolras like bullets. But this time the wounds didn’t hurt. It felt like they were the bullets of forgiveness which could finally erase his guilt. He looked at Grantaire with tears coming down his face. For a moment he thought he saw an angel, who was bringing this message from all his friends to release him from the fetters of despair. His eyes met Grantaire’s, eyes filled with confidence, the eyes of an angel. This man who had never shown him anything else but cynicism and irony, had helped him see the truth and he was now the only one he had. And he thanked God for that. He sighed without saying anything. Grantaire waited anxiously, he wanted Enjolras to speak or at least to do something. And he did. He burst into a redemptive cry like a little child. Grantaire smiled. He smiled and hugged him tightly, happy that his friend could finally show his feelings. He knew it was unusual for Enjolras, not to say unthinkable. He seemed always cold like a marble statue. But he was not one. «I miss them Grantaire», he said sobbing. Grantaire nodded. «Me too», he said. «I didn’t even told them a proper goodbye», and deep inside he was feeling guilty for that, but he kept it for himself. His shirt was wet from Enjolras’s tears. The sun was now up in the sky. Suddenly he took a look around and a thought crossed his mind. «Enjolras…», he continued, «I’ve seen all the dead bodies and I’ve counted them all…», he snorted. Enjolras looked at him with a confused expression. «And?» «I just noticed something…» Enjolras waited. Grantaire crossed his arms on his chest and chuckled. «Where is Marius?»

#barricade day #les mis #les miserables

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