Bonus 1: Game Photography
Bonus 1: Game Photography
Game photography is my chance to hold my breath. Video games have always been places I have lived in, places I have felt something real. I am able to slow down in a world that is often rushing you forward.
For this activity, I chose Final Fantasy. I have found a profound parallel between my own path and the stories within the game. The characters in these games often wrestle with identity, displacement, duty, and hope. I, too, carry those responsibilities in my heart.
I will be using screenshots from multiple entries in the Final Fantasy series, mainly Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy VII. The photography I intend to pursue will focus on narrative stillness.
All screencaps are captured directly from my MacBook Pro and PS5 using basic screen-capture tools. Since Final Fantasy games are not natively available on macOS, I access them through emulators. Because of this, I will experience occasional frame drops and/or resolution limitations. I plan to counter these through careful scene selection, timing, and where needed, minor post-processing for clarity or lighting balance.
If I apply any edits, I will clearly explain them.
One challenge I anticipate is capturing moments that are not part of cutscenes, yet still feel cinematic. I will rely on in-game camera angles, positioning of characters, and natural environment elements.
Game: Final Fantasy VII Rebirth
Captured on macOS via emulator; screenshot with minor contrast enhancement.
I converted this shot to black and white to strip it down to its essence.
Being suspended in a world that constantly shifts beneath your feet, the character is caught mid-air, her body forming a soft diagonal that cuts across the image. She drifts just off-center, aligned with the left third of the frame; an intentional use of the rule of thirds.
What draws me to this image is the contrast between movement and stillness. Her limbs are stretched and scattered, but her core remains contained, almost fetal. The sweeping light in the background moves horizontally, creating leading lines that pull the viewer’s eye from left to right, yet her form resists that current.
I made use of negative space extensively here. The darkness of the surrounding void accentuates her silhouette, allowing the viewer to sit with the figure longer. The character’s face is obscured, which removes identity and opens room for interpretation. She could be anyone. She could be me.
Game: Final Fantasy VII Rebirth
Screenshot taken via emulator on macOS. No major edits applied aside from framing and sharpening.
I composed this image with the Fibonacci spiral in mind. It begins with the eye, the character’s gaze and spirals outward through the curve of his wing, down the folds of black feathers, and back around into the golden light behind him.
The rule of thirds plays a role here too. He is not centered. He is off-balance, almost intruding into the frame, rather than belonging to it. I wanted the wing to dominate the left side, not just as a visual anchor, but as an extension of his being. Heavy, inescapable. It splits the frame, a line between light and shadow.
The contrast between textures, the softness of the light, the gloss of the armor, the matte feathers, adds a tactile quality to the image. You do not just see the weight of the wing; you almost feel it.
In Final Fantasy, characters like him are not just villains or heroes. They are ideas. They become mythic, symbolic. I wanted to frame him like that: not just a person, but a presence.
P.S. He is second to my favourite character, Lightning Farron.
Game: Final Fantasy VII Remake
Captured via in-game photo mode on PlayStation 5. No post-edits.
This composition plays with radial balance. Everything spirals outward from the intense point of light (an almost divine nucleus) pulling the viewer’s gaze inward before radiating back through the figure’s pose and the explosion of light and energy around her. Her outstretched hand and flowing dress mimic the curvature of the light bursts, reinforcing the spiral motion I had in mind when aligning it with the Fibonacci spiral.
She is not centered, anchored off to the left in a way that creates tension. I leaned into the rule of thirds, letting the spiral and her figure break through the "expected" composition. It gives the image movement.
The contrast in textures adds emotional gravity: the smooth silk of her red dress, the sharp streaks of glowing light, and the cosmic dust feel...
In that moment, she is divine.
Game: Final Fantasy XIV
Captured via in-game photo mode on PlayStation 5. No post-edits.
Everything in this image draws the eye inward: the jagged ridgelines, the long shadow of the frozen dragon, and the Dragoon’s lowered spear. These leading lines converge in the space between the present and the past, between the seated figure and the colossal corpse of Midgardsormr—a guardian long fallen.
The rule of thirds pushes the subject off-center. He is not confronting the camera. He is facing history.
Negative space swells in this shot, not to isolate the figure, but to amplify his stillness. The cold palette mutes everything, but the tiny, deliberate colors on his armor are just enough to remind us he is alive. Thinking. Waiting. Honoring. He does not fill the frame, because he does not need to. The world fills it for him.
The atmospheric perspective shrouds Midgardsormr in haze, but we recognize the shape. We always do.
Game: Final Fantasy VII Rebirth
Captured via in-game photo mode on PlayStation 5. No post-edits.
The most dominant compositional technique here is framing within the frame. The black wing arcs inward from the left, its sharp, feathery edge acting like a curved blade that slices through the scene. On the right, a curtain of flame pushes back against it, enclosing the characters in a natural yet volatile border. This framing does not just guide the eye, it traps the moment like a painting in motion. It creates a visual arena.
The rule of thirds: neither character is centered. Instead, they are positioned along the outer vertical thirds of the frame. They meet not in symmetry, but in conflict. One surges forward with kinetic purpose, the other waits.
The image has strong foreground: subtle textures (possibly flame embers or heat distortion) suggest motion and heat, midground: the two characters occupy this space, sharply defined, caught mid-action, and background separation: fire and atmospheric light bloom behind them.
This is not the start of a fight. It is the conclusion of everything that led them here.
In this world, I am granted omnipotence. I control the time of day, the weather, the movement of the character, and if things go south, I just restart the game. But, with that level of control comes a strange kind of responsibility: if the shot does not speak, it is entirely my fault. There is no blaming bad lighting or a missed moment. Every detail reflects my intent... or my lack of it. That pressure makes every choice meaningful.
It was like bringing a camera to a dream, manipulating the world to match the emotional narrative I had in my head. Well, I do this anyway in my maladaptive dreams.
Anyway, because everything could be perfect, the pressure to make every shot meaningful was higher. I learned how important intention is in photography. An image can be technically beautiful, but emotionally hollow. Game photography taught me to slow down and ask myself: What do I want this image to say? To look for visual metaphors, for meaning in everything.
Sometimes I would sit in photo mode for minutes, waiting for the wind to blow a strand of hair just right. Other times, I would replay a battle sequence over and over, just to freeze one perfect frame. I think those quiet obsessions taught me patience in a way I did not expect. Mind you, I am the least patient person in the world.
It is so easy to take things for granted. We drift through moments without really living in them. But, if anything, photography reminded me that: you cannot capture a moment you never truly saw. Time moves in one direction... we cannot rewind. But, we can choose to notice more, to be more intentional with the seconds we do have left.
It was a heartwarming experience. It reconnected me to a part of myself that loved these games deeply, that found joy in returning to them. I felt an odd kind of nostalgia. Like seeing an old friend and realizing how much you have both changed.
There is intimacy and wisdom in revisiting the past. I know, I just yapped about living in the present, but truly, there are things better understood with time passing. We learn something new with the knowledge we have now. That is the beauty of growth: it does not erase who we were, it helps us understand that version of ourselves more fully. It recontextualizes what once felt so simple and shows us that nothing is ever really static, not even a memory.
There is something healing about that. It is like telling my past self: Hey, I remember this. I still care. I still see it. But, you can also look at it this way.