SPOILERS AHEAD
…the Midgard Serpent, which lies about all the land, and scarcely does its length suffice to encompass the earth with head and tail.
– Gylfaginning
Where to begin?
Part of the meaning of the Midgar Zolom, the world-encircling serpent of Norse myth, has to do with territorial bounds.
But though we’ve made it out of Midgar, we are nowhere near the edges of this world of FFVII. And of course we have to push on to proceed with the game. If not a prohibitive limit, then, the dead snake gives a clear warning. It’s a dramatic memento mori, a promise of what awaits you in pursuing Sephiroth.
We might see in it an inversion of the heroic iconography of Christian belief, among many others. To stay with the Norse connection, Odin, too, is portrayed as a suffering god:
I know that I hung on a windy tree
nine long nights,
wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin,
myself to myself,
on that tree of which no man knows
from where its roots run.
– Havamal
Here the godlike Sephiroth sacrifices another in place of himself, flipping the myth upside down. The snake, that figure of wisdom and transformation, but also of forbidden knowledge and awareness of mortality, is impaled on a tree, the primordial cross. The suffering and dying god-man gets exchanged for a negative symbol of transformation. We can read this as the death of the possibility of transformation, at least for Sephiroth.
Quetzalcoatl united with Mictlantecuhtli
His power is undeniable, to have done this to such a fearsome monster. The snake is lolling face up as the camera pans up. Cue lightning in the background. Particularly if we’ve played FFVII recently, we might think of Quetzalcoatl, the thunder-serpent summon of that game, and the dying and reborn god of the Aztecs. Again, the spin the original myth gets here is profoundly negative, if Neumann’s analysis of the feathered serpent is any guide:
He is not a hero who transforms the outside world, but one who transforms himself by atonement. He is the dying and resurrected god, but he is also the hero king and the culture bringer, the earthly and divine representative of the principle of light and humanity.
Each time you look up at it, lightning will keep flashing. It’s a bit like President Shinra’s role-play in the Honey Bee Inn, where thunder sound effects roll out through the keyhole of the dark room of his promised-land fantasy. In a word, it’s almost overly dramatic, if the player chooses to watch the same little cutscene over and over to the point where it loses its initial shock. On the other hand, we might ask why we’re compelled to check the serpent again and again. That archetypal image never gets old, never loses the shock of the new. Each time we see a snake, we’re going to freak out. And so much the more if it’s a giant snake-dragon that’s been impaled to send us a message. Nature itself seems to conspire, adding its warning signs of the coming storm.
Cloud and the player observe the danger, but should also recognize that he is on the path of the hero. The signs are plain. In pursuing Sephiroth, he is starting to pursue his own identity, and that inevitably involves finding signs of anomaly or threats to his current existence. Projecting that outward, we might suppose there must be some external figure to blame: stop Sephiroth, and it will save the world. But isn’t that just like Sephiroth impaling the Zolom? The true test will be for Cloud to face the demons within himself. To save the world would be to embody that transformative principal and hold it up alive, not dead, to attest to the endless chain of such creative imitation.
We might notice how this scene framed with our other party members looking on with us, whereas Sephiroth is alone. Of course, he’s captured and carries with him the remains of Jenova, but that’s the exception that proves the rule. On his journey, in lieu of having people with him, he leaves these dead bodies in his wake. We saw it before with President Shinra impaled on the sword at the top of the tower, and we know that even more significant later on will be what happens to Aeris. Normally, when Cloud and company get KO’d, a phoenix down will revive them, but when Sephiroth kills people they stay dead. Sometimes, they even bleed.
This graphic content, which would have been deemed inappropriate even a short time before, and this permadeath so crucial to the plot may provoke controversy, but they make for an indelible impact on the player. They represent a real investment of time and emotion into the characters and the game, typified in irreversible bloodshed. And yet the message of transformation is clear–to grow, a kind of violence, even a symbolic death, is demanded.
But all is not hopeless. To even reach this area, we have to ride a chocobo There’s a major distinction, in mood and gameplay alike, between sitting back and watching this set-piece of incredible story, and successfully managing to catch a chocobo.
Other powerful emotions are activated, frustration and anxiety and hope, when we’re trying to catch those dang chocobos. “I have things to do, I can’t spend all day catching chocobos…” we say to ourselves, and often, “Shoot! Accidentally hit the chocobo and it ran off, now I have to buy some more greens…”
Up to this point, the way to win battles has been by killing the enemies and that’s that. Now this other thing, this little wrinkle, gets thrown in. Here’s an enemy that you can’t kill, so you’ve got to get away from it. Then again, you can see this enemy on the screen so that’s helpful. It’s not just a random encounter. And here’s a way to dodge that serpent as it bounces around in the swamp: walk around these other conspicuous tracks while wearing the Chocobo Lure Materia. Then we’ve got to learn a new method of fighting, killing some enemies but not others which are potential, if flighty, friends. We might have never even used an item up to this point in battle. Even the battle music is different, a kind of surfer rock remix. Chocobo caught, we get to glide around on the map, more new music playing. But if we’re not careful, the serpent can still nab us.
Along with the novel challenge, the game itself is teaching us how to progress. Beyond the quest, it might even tell us something about our temperament how we approach it. Do we listen and prepare for new challenges? Do we over-prepare, buying the most expensive greens, so to speak? Do we get just one of a few different kinds? Do we keep count of how many hits each enemy takes to kill, so we don’t accidentally target the chocobo? And what combination of fun and stress do we actually feel, to make this all worthwhile? Every day we find ourselves in domains that are fairly bounded, and yet within that “magic circle,” so much is possible. Small things come up which may seem annoying, anxiety-inducing, distracting, but they are the game itself.
Wesley Schantz (the Bookwarm Mage) coordinates Signum Academy, writes about books and video games, and teaches in Spokane, WA. FFVII Myth & Materia comes out of his podcast series with Alexander Schmid and Vincent Reese.
Did you enjoy this post? Consider becoming a Warrior of Light and join us in promoting honesty and quality to games writing through thoughtful, long-form critiques. We’re building a future for games writers to get paid and find a fairer and happier alternative to mainstream coverage and culture. See our Patreon page for more info!
