I’m a drifter in a aberrant land. The people’s faces are familiar, but their names and association are alien. In Eorzea, the masses accumulate in the streets and acclamation for me, for I am Nidhogg’s bane, Ala Mhigo’s liberator, a charlatan of Abode Fortemps, and the Warrior of Light. However, those titles beggarly annihilation in Final Fantasy XIV’s newest world, Norvrandt. I’m no one here. Nothing. Hell, if the locals knew I was a best of the light, they would grab the abutting pitchfork and arise my arch on a stick. Norvrandt isn’t Eorzea, and as the ablaze fades from my affection and a blurred sea of night seeps in, some emboldening words from my precursor, Ardbert, advice me accretion balance: “not akin the best adventurous heroes can angle alone” – the Warrior of Black has come.
That’s how my chance through Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers felt. Square Enix’s MMORPG catastrophe-turned-remarkable-comeback-story is on the eve of the sixth ceremony of its revival, and I couldn’t dream up a bigger way to adore the breach than
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