The Final Fantasy VII movie was finally released as scheduled.
This animated film, with an investment of over 100 million USD, did not premiere in traditional mainstream theaters.
However, that didn't mean it wasn't shown in cinemas at all.
For example, in Japan, a few select theaters did screen the film.
In the U.S., Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's influence was still somewhat limited.
But Japan was a different story.
In Japan, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment had government backing.
No one in their right mind would offend a company that enjoyed official favor—even Surei Electronics with all its power couldn't cover every corner.
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Plus, Detroit Film Group only had major influence in the U.S., not so much in Japan.
As a result, Japan became the only region where the Final Fantasy VII movie had a theatrical release, though it was limited to major cities like Tokyo and Osaka, and the screenings were minimal—more of a soft launch than a major release.
Since they couldn't enter mainstream cinemas, there was no need to heavily market the theatrical side. Instead, the focus was shifted toward online streaming and physical releases like movie cartridges for handheld consoles and DVD/Blu-ray discs.
According to pre-order numbers, movie cartridge sales reached 100,000 units globally, while discs hovered around 200,000.
Those were strong numbers for pre-orders alone. The official release would likely push those numbers even higher.
It proved that Takayuki's judgment was right—Final Fantasy VII had left a powerful emotional mark on players, and the franchise clearly had untapped value.
Monster Hunter's weak performance was something Takayuki had anticipated. After all, the average player in this world wasn't yet accustomed to high-difficulty games.
If even Monster Hunter was too much, then a Souls-like game would probably flop spectacularly.
But that was okay—players could be trained over time. Monster Hunter was the beginning. The number of units sold wasn't as important as establishing the groundwork for harder games.
Right now, his focus had shifted to the Final Fantasy VII movie.
The original Advent Children film had already been quite excellent, but parts of it were confusing or inaccessible, largely designed with fans in mind. Casual viewers were mostly just dazzled by the visuals.
So Takayuki made sure to add extra narrative context in this remake, helping newcomers understand the core storyline without altering the main canon—something he considered sacred. His goal wasn't to rewrite the original, but to share the beauty of a work from his previous life with a new audience.
Because of these additions, the movie's runtime extended from two hours to nearly two and a half.
For a traditional theater release, this length would've required compromises. But in online streaming, runtime wasn't a constraint—even a three-hour movie posed no issue.
The movie launched on September 15 at midnight U.S. time, which was around early afternoon in Japan—the perfect window for viewership.
It was a Saturday, and fans who had been waiting for the movie had already logged in, eagerly sitting in front of their computers.
Many had already subscribed to the streaming platform, and as the clock struck midnight, the Final Fantasy VII movie screen faded to black, and a few lines of text slowly emerged:
"To those who once loved this world...To those who shared joyful moments with their companions...Now, is the time for your reunion—"
For fans, these words were deeply emotional.
Back when Final Fantasy VII first released, it created a cultural sensation. Entire cities seemed to empty out. The game's impact was so large that sociologists coined the term "The Final Fantasy Moment" to describe how a single game could drive people to collective frenzy.
There was even talk within the Japanese government about passing a law requiring publishers to notify local police departments before launching high-profile games, so officers could be dispatched to maintain public order.
Of course, such massively impactful games turned out to be rare, and that idea was quietly shelved.
These opening words mirrored the emotional journey players had once experienced with the game—leading a band of heroes through danger, heartbreak, and discovery.
And now, with the movie starting, it really did feel like a reunion for players who had lived through that tale.
Many had reunited with old friends just to watch this movie together, reliving memories and sharing in the nostalgia.
As the text faded out, the screen gradually brightened—revealing clouds in the sky.
In the distance, sunlight shimmered across the clouds, and familiar music began to play.
The melody was instantly recognizable.
Back on the GS1 console, the audio module hadn't been particularly advanced, so the music had sounded a little muffled.
But now, the score was pure and ethereal, instantly relaxing the listener—especially old fans.
The camera slowly dropped through the clouds, revealing a barren desert landscape.
And it was breathtakingly realistic.
Promotional materials had already stated that every frame was fully rendered in CG—no live-action elements at all.
It was astonishing.
Earlier trailers had focused on action, showing very little of the world itself. But now, with the setting in full view, the impact was on a whole different level.
"Wow... this desert, these mountains, these trees... That's—Red XIII!!"
The camera cut to a wolf-like creature sprinting across the terrain, accompanied by two smaller pups.
Fans immediately called out his name without hesitation.
Red XIII, one of the most beloved characters in Final Fantasy VII.
A genetic experiment created by the villain Hojo, he eventually escapes and joins the protagonist's party.
He now ran across the wasteland with his pups, leading them to a cliff edge.
In the distance, the ruins of Midgar could be seen—once a gleaming metropolis powered by Shinra, now reduced to a crumbling, overgrown husk.