A vast field of cubicles appears from the darkness as seemingly never-ending rows of fluorescent bulbs warm to life.  Co-workers stumble into the office like a herd of walking dead.  As your computer screen blinks on, the scent of cheap, no-brand coffee fills the sterile looking room.  Most of these pathetic ingrates have nothing more than frozen dinners to look forward to after work.  You, on the other hand, are different.  Thanks to a midnight run to GameStop, something special waits patiently in your basement-level studio apartment – Final Fantasy XIII.

You can hardly contain your excitement while collating copies and forwarding memos.  What will it be like to join forces with Sazh?  Great warmth fills your heart as you call your mother to cancel another dinner.  Mom can wait; let’s spend some quality time with a baby chocobo that lives in an afro.

This is going to be so gr– Oh, no.  Here comes Mike from accounting.  What in the Hell does this idiot want?

“Hey, buddy,” he says, “What’s up?”

“Nothing…just…makin’ copies,” you stammer.

“Oh, yeah?  Hey, you’re into videogames,” he continues, “I’m really excited to check out that new Final Fantasy.  It looks awesome – I haven’t played a Final Fantasy game since the one where you get the guy with a bazooka for an arm.”

You stare at your desk, hoping beyond hope that this weirdo will leave.  You would strangle an entire room of adorable moogles if it led to his demise.

“Anyways, we should get a beer sometime, dude.  It would be cool to have someone to talk to about videogames.”

“Uh,” you mumble, “I don’t know.  I’m…I’m pretty busy.  I’m building a chain-mail suit of armor.”

“Oh…well, alright then,” he says, looking confused, “Talk to you later.”

Jesus, is that guy a freaking whacko or what?  “The one with a bazooka arm?” First of all, Final Fantasy VII is the greatest game ever created.  Secondly, the man’s name is Barrett Wallace, you uneducated twit.  It’s not a bazooka arm; it’s the Gun-Arm.  That asshole hasn’t played Final Fantasy.  I bet he doesn’t even understand why your hair is all spiked up today.  Congratulations, Mike, you’re a fucking moron.  You wonder what’s wrong with these freaks as you rearrange the androgynous action figures on your desk.

Everything is going to be alright.  You just need to get past these last few hours and then you can go home to gawk at Lightning’s beauty.  You’re humming the game’s unforgettable victory fanfare and thinking about your cat, Cactrot, when Linda from sales walks by.  Oh, for God’s sake.  She’s coming up to your cubicle.

“Hi there,” she begins, “Staying busy today?”

This stupid, stupid, bitch.  Can’t a man sit here and wear his Sephiroth cape in peace?  No, this ignorant whore has to approach you on an almost daily basis. You would gladly give your soul to Exdeath, the Great Tree of the Forest of Moore, for her to leave.  Everyone here is insane – except for you.

“Uh…I was wondering if you would like to get a coffee after work or something?” she says.

She must be joking.  This psychopath has to be kidding right now.  She actually expects you to join her after work for some type of social activity?  Tonight – of all nights – when a new episode in the greatest gaming franchise in history is released?  Obviously, this goddamned buffoon has never played Final Fantasy.  You really wish you had some “Shut-The-Hell-Up” materia right now.

“No thanks” you reply.

“Oh…well, it’s just that–”

“—I’m in love with Yuna!” you suddenly yell, “I’m in love with her.”

Linda slowly walks away with a disgusted look upon her face.  They’ll never understand the love between you and Yuna.  You have to keep ignoring them, though, less you become one of them.  You’re the most brilliant person in this office.  Just remember – they’re the weirdos.  That’s why you’re the one with a narrator in your head.

Now, pick up that giant plastic sword.  We have a bus to catch.

Further reporting by Hardcasual’s Matt Clark.