I got married this year, hold for applause, thank you, thank you. It wasn’t a big wedding, but what we did have, we made our own, and this included truly personal picks for the music that played during the ceremony. Forget Pachelbel’s Canon; we walked down the aisle (and signed the registry) to some glorious Final Fantasy tracks.
Depending on your opinion on video game music, this makes us either a very cool couple or the kind you make fun of with your friends.
And here comes the issue: these songs are forever and irreparably ‘wedding songs’ now. Zanarkand, the opening music for Final Fantasy 10, and Stand By Me, the Florence & the Machine cover that plays while you sob through the endless car pushing of Final Fantasy 15, are now irrevocably tied to the most important day of my life. They were songs that my husband and I really enjoyed as a couple and decided would fit the tone of our day, and now they’re changed.
Not only can I not simply listen to these songs and enjoy them for what they are anymore, but they also vastly change the games they come from. Earlier this month, I was lucky enough to catch Distant Worlds in London, an orchestra-led concert of Final Fantasy songs (an event I recommend to any FF fan I meet) - Zanarkand was performed, with emotional cutscenes from FF10 playing on the large screen above the orchestra. All I could think of, however, was my wedding, thrown completely out of the moment and into a nostalgic, emotional place.
Now, whenever I return to the world of Spira or embark on Noctis’s road trip, I know what awaits. The opening plinky plonky notes of Zanarkand will instantly yank me back to the registry office, and the warmth in Florence’s voice will flood me with memories of our first moments as a married couple, potentially overshadowing the emotional arc of the games I love. A part of me wonders: is this newfound personal significance a beautiful testament to our love, or a bittersweet intrusion on the artistic integrity of the experiences I once cherished purely for their own sake?
To misquote Trixie Mattel, that’s a lot of emotion for ‘not important’.
I do wonder what might happen to the songs if I ever get divorced (god forbid). Playlist casualty? Duh. Never playing the games again? Oof, maybe.
A tiny part of me regrets making this unretractable decision, that I’ve taken these two important games from their places in my life and my memories and changed them so deeply. But a bigger part of me loves this regret. It’s a reminder that art, no matter how beloved in its original form, can be further enriched and personalised through our own experiences. These melodies now evoke the weight of our vows and the warmth of our loved ones. They are no longer just the creators' intent; they are also undeniably, beautifully, ours.
So, then, yes, video game music at your wedding is a double-edged sword, but it’s one I’d recommend picking up and swinging.
