Hey guys. Finally started working on something that’s been a strange little idea in my head for a while now: An FF8 based sitcom.
I’ve had a list of plotlines kicking around for a while, probably enough for at least one season of episodes. (Usual sitcom type stunts, only with FF8 people and my own “unique” twists…).
Anyway, I’ve written up the opening credits sequence that you’d see at the start of every episode. Theme song, introduce all the characters, zany antics and people acting goofy, stuff like that. A teaser of what will come, I suppose…
And yeah, I’ll be using script form again (well duh, they’re scripts for a TV show… hee hee)
==========
[Black Screen. A pulsing bass line begins to play. There’s a flash of light and the clang of clashing swords.]
[Picture comes in as a jaunty, light-hearted, made for weekly TV pop-rock remix of “Liberi Fatali” (the original operatic theme from the opening of Final Fantasy 8) begins to play. It’s a sunny, verdant flower field. Eight figures, seven human and one canine, are running about and frolicking in said field. The word “S.E.E.D.” appears in stencil-style bold white lettering with black and red trim appear with a gentle metallic “ping” in large type over the screen, and quickly disappears.]
Chorus (singing): Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec. Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec.
[Close up of a man with mussed brown hair wearing black cargo pants and a leather aviation jacket. He is involved in a rather intense duel involving a futuristic looking sword-like weapon, but no so involved that he can’t find time to stop, drop his guard, and smile and wave at the camera in a friendly fashion. Just before getting nicked in the face by his rival’s sword, inflicting a shallow but bloody forehead wound that will likely scar. Freeze frame.]
[“Squall” appears in the same lettering type as before, only much smaller and at the bottom of the screen.]
Chorus: Army of photogenic teenagers! Children of fate! Cleanse up your acne before it’s too late! Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec!
[Squall laughs it off. Pan over. Another man armed with an identical weapon, presumably the other dueler. He has a neatly kept crop of yellow blond hair and wears a military gray trenchcoat with highly stylized cross logos (blood red) on the shoulders. He shakes his head and chuckles at his dueling partner. He grips his weapon with one hand. His other hand grips something unseen off screen. Freeze Frame.]
[“Seifer” appears at the bottom of the screen in the same lettering type as before.]
Chorus: What the hell does this mean? We don’t knowwwwwwww! It’s all pretend Latin! It makes no sense!
[Pan over. Seifer’s other hand was hoisting up a third man, suspending him off the ground, by the elastic wasteband of his underwear. The recipient of this ignominious wedgie (a young man with spiked blond hair, a large tribal tattoo on his face, a black with red trim shirt, oversized shorts, and boxers with an embarrassing pink hearts print design) flails helplessly in the air and appears to be in considerable pain. Zoom in on his wincing face. Freeze Frame.]
[“Zell” appears at the bottom of the screen in the trademark lettering.]
Chorus: Liberi Fatali! All from the same orphanage! All with amnesia! A coincidence that even Dickens would think was too much! Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec!
[Cut to a young lady with long, straight black hair, crouching and balancing on the balls of her feet, petting the head of a big shaggy dog. She wears a powder blue cotton and black lycra ensemble, and has a beautiful smile on her face. Silently mouthing the words “Fetch, Angelo” to her dog, she stands up and, instead of throwing a stick, she sends a razor-sharp metal disk arcing into the air, launched from a crossbow-like mechanism attached to her left wrist. The dog dutifully (and stupidly) chases after it eagerly. Freeze Frame.]
[“Rinoa” appears at the bottom of the screen in the trademark lettering.]
Chorus: Total… Gibberish! Total… Nonsense! Utter… Bollocks! Utter… Pigcrap!
[The deadly projectile flies across the flower field, easily putting distance between itself and the dog. It embeds itself in the ground harmlessly. Well, almost harmlessly. A young man wearing a tan duster, spurred cowboy boots and corduroy pants running across the flower field trips over the disk and falls forward, stumbling, tumbling, and rolling for several feet. But he keeps his black cowboy hat atop his head. He looks up, and grins. Freeze frame.]
[“Irvine” appears at the bottom of the screen in the trademark lettering.]
Chorus: Liberi Fatali! Super-soldiers! With raging hormone imbalances! What is this, Logan’s Run? Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec.
[Irvine is looking up at a pair of pale white legs, bare save for brown boots downside and the hemline of a short yellow dress upside. Way upside. This pair of legs belongs to a short in stature young woman with curled hair, green eyes, and a cute little bird resting in the palm of her hand, munching on a small mound of seed. She stops smiling, however, when she looks down to see someone else looking up. Her cheeks flush and she frowns with fury. Her fists clench angrily and the bird barely flies off in time. Zoom in on her angry face, and freeze frame.]
[“Selphie” appears at the bottom of the screen in the (rather overused now) trademark lettering.]
Chorus: And these lyrics make no sense! Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec!
[The bird lands on the ground, next to a nearly identical bird. They chirp and flap at each other, almost as if in a mating ritual. This all occurs at the feet of another person, this one a statuesque strawberry blonde haired woman in a pink skirted outfit, black leather boots, and professorial yet still sexy wire-framed glasses. She looks on with a gentle smirk on her face at the birds. She then looks up and casts her eyes around, as if checking to see if anyone is paying attention to her. Finding none, she calmly tilts her glasses upward until they rest at her hairline and, still smirking gently, shoots laser beams out of her eyeballs, burning the birdies to a crisp. She shrugs her shoulders, puts her glasses back into place, blushes, and holds her black-gloved hands out, palms up, helplessly. Freeze frame.]
[“Quistis” appears at the bottom of the screen in the same old lettering.]
Chorus: We?re not getting paid enough for this! Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec! Liberi Fatali! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa {high F#}
[Camera pulls back as everybody runs into the center of the field to come together for a group photo. They all strike poses. Squall leans on his weapon with two hands. Rinoa hugs Squall from behind. Zell stands arms akimbo, like a mighty superhero. Seifer leans on his weapon with one hand and gives Zell bunny ears with the other. Quistis poses kneeling with a book in hand, trying to ignore Irvine as he crawls on his hands and knees “seductively” over to Quistis. Selphie yanks the cowboy hat off Irvine’s head and smirks triumphantly. Irvine’s jaw drops and blushes, as if he feels naked. Selphie puts it on her head. Squall turns his head to kiss Rinoa, but just before he does so Angelo begins to hump Squall’s leg. Freeze frame.]
[“S.E.E.D.” appears again, in big bold letters. Music Ends.]
Ha! Rinoa is so stupid!