This is Just a Tribune

Hey, guys. Do you remember way back in the when a little thing called the Vana'diel Tribune?

For those of you who do not, it was a fan-made "newspaper" posted on the FFXI website that had "articles" about "stuff". Most of it was nonsense crap, but it was all very topical of the day. Meaning, reading this stuff today is like stepping back into a time machine to see what the adventurers of yore had to deal with.

Mostly racism. But I'll get to that later.

A little back story for this back-story:

(Note: I am omitting the Japanese-only editions posted from April 26, 2002 to June 30, 2003. They only had information on the Avatars and some stupid star chart. Pfft.)

It's fun to note that the newspaper was entirely fan-made, but SE-sanctioned. So, free labor I guess? I had never met or seen any of the writers, but they were supposed to have a little  next to their head, which signified their everlasting servitude.

The Vana'diel tribune had two editions, creatively named Vana'diel Tribune and Vana'diel Tribune II.

The first edition ran from October 28, 2003 to October 25, 2004 with a total of 48 articles spanning 15 issues. The second edition was even shorter, running from December 26, 2005 to February 27, 2006 with 15 articles spanning three issues, after which it was scrapped due to... budget cuts or something? Pretty sure the newspaper wasn't killed off by the invention of the internet. But I could be wrong? There's no telling what Cid was working on back then.

The articles covered mostly lore and goings-on in each of the major cities, with the later articles focusing on the players themselves, featuring little interviews and questionnaires on daily life in Vana'diel.

I was never interviewed because my questions about the establishment would actually have people thinking and turning to riot. I love you, President Karst, but auction house taxation is theft.

The Vana'diel Tribune was later replaced with Life in Vana'diel, single articles containing little stories and such about various stuff in the game, which lasted until mid 2011.

So, for the next couple blog entries, grab your felt fedora, revolver and bullwhip, it's time to play archaeologist. We are dissect and examine each issue and see if we can unravel the past and hopefully, bring about a brighter future. Or make fun of each one. You decide! Actually, don't. I get to decide. We're going to make fun of these.

OH DEAR GOD KILL IT WITH FIREoh wait, that's just a doppelganger. For a second I thought it was an actual Elvaan. Carry on.

"The citizens of the three countries are planning a new festival for children and adventurers. A dry run of the festival is planned for tomorrow night and the night after in Northern San d'Oria. Please come and report on it." While covering the harvest in the farmlands around Jeuno, we received a letter from an Elvaan man in Northern San d'Oria. I ran to the air travel agency and caught an afternoon flight to San d'Oria. What I saw in Northern San d'Oria was a bizarre scene unlike anything I could have expected. Running about was a troupe of the most terrifying monsters in the world. Before my frightened eyes were a scythe-wielding skeleton, an Elvaan ghost, and myriad black phantoms following each other through the air. The only response the gatehouse guards on Laborman's Way would deign to give me was "Nothing to report." Perhaps they aren't allowed to engage in non-official conversation. Unable to figure out what was going on and growing more and more worried, I spied the figure of an Elvaan man. It was the man who had sent the letter. "There certainly are a lot of them. It is as if we were being overrun by monsters, is it not? Surprised? This is but the rehearsal for our festival. Please, go out and have a look." I then realized that the monsters in the street were in fact the citizens of San d'Oria in costume, and promptly joined the parade, listening to what the people had to say. ----Hello. I must admit, I was truly surprised. You look very much like a real skeleton. " Haha. Quite realistic, no? I worked rather hard on it, if I do say so myself. I traveled all the way to the Eldieme Necropolis to study the real thing. " What sort of place was this, where the people of the city were willing to undertake the most dangerous of adventures for the sake of...a festival? ----You've also gone and made a very elaborate costume. But what is this festival intended to celebrate?  " The lady who lives next door to me said that it's a celebration of the yearly harvest. There's little I can add to that, but it does seem that the idea was brought here by some nice adventurers. You want to know how dressing up like this is a form of celebration? Perhaps you are better served not to worry about such trivialities. " A middle-aged couple answered the same question thusly: " Well, adventurers are coming from all over the world, so maybe this is to help them grow accustomed to the city? " " Sweet, this is nothing like a normal festival. I hear tell that the Culinarians' Guild is behind it all." "You've been listening to your sister-in-law in Windurst again, have you not? I have told you more than a few times that not a thing she says is to be believed. " People bandied opinions about the origin of the festival for quite some time, yet I never got any closer to its true roots. ----By the way, what's the idea behind having everyone dress up like monsters? " Well, to put it simply, it's to frighten. And to make people happy, if possible, " said an Elvaan ghost woman as she laughed meaningfully. ---What is everyone supposed to do today? Can you give our readers some hints?  " Hints? Let me see... Be not afraid and do not run away. Provide sweets to those who scare you. Heehee. The anticipation over what I shall receive is simply dreadful," said a young boy made-up as a ghost. His stomach growled, making his friends laugh. Watching the boys with a satisfied look, the author of the original letter said, "My own goal for the day is to have as many people as possible partake of both the festive and frightening aspects of the celebration. " The festival itself is drawing near. As long as you're going home, why not visit all three countries? Nolvillant

To sum everything up, Halloween is fucking awesome. It should replace every holiday ever.

Getting rich quick. It's something everyone dreams of. Helping some to achieve that dream is a new form of gambling that is making inroads in the Outlands. It's called " Lucky Roll. " I traveled to Norg to check out the facts. It is said that far off the mainland, in Rabao and Norg, can be found the proprietor of Lucky Roll. Rabao is an oasis in the middle of the Altepa Desert, a common destination for adventurers seeking their fortunes. Norg is a haven for pirates and brigands that make their living in black markets and gambling. These are just the types of places where something like Lucky Roll can gain a foothold. Upon arriving in Norg, I began my search for the facts right on the quay. The first person I spoke to turned out to the very man who for whom I was searching: Repat, the proprietor of Lucky Roll. At first glance, Repat has no distinguishing features, but deep in his sleepy eyes is the sparkle seen only in the eyes of a man strong enough to survive in the Outlands. After sizing me up, Repat slowly explained the rules of the game: It's 100 gil per play. You can play once per day. You throw the die one time per play. The number on the die is added to the running total. If you reach 400 points, that's a Lucky Roll. You win 10,000 gil. There's a bonus prize for hitting 400 exactly, and extra prizes for hitting 401 and 402 points. After a Lucky Roll, the score resets to 0. It's that simple. For 100 gil, you get to roll the dice for a shot at 10,000 gil. For that kind of money, there's no reason not to give it a shot. I paid the 100 gil and grabbed the dice. I asked what the point total was but was met with a laugh and a shake of the head; Repat is not about to answer a question like that until after you've thrown the dice. The die rattled into the small cup and spun to a stop, revealing the number to be added to the running total. " You rolled a... 3! The running total is now 385! " Repat's sleepy eyes narrowed as he smiled. " I'm sorry, but that's it for today's game of Lucky Roll. Come by tomorrow, and maybe Lady Luck will be waiting for you! " " So close to 400 points! Just a little bit more! One more try! Tomorrow comes too slow! " was all I could think. But how many more people would need to play for the score to reach 400? A six-sided die averages out to 3.5 points per throw. This means that it takes 100 throws to cover the cost of the jackpot--with the last 15 throws going into Repat's pockets. A fifteen percent profit sounds like a great deal for the house, but when you consider the extra prizes, it wouldn't be surprising to see the house go into the red once in a while. So why bother? While I was considering this, a group of adventurers came up and paid Repat their 100 gil each. Very soon, there were shouts of joy. Someone got a Lucky Roll. The barest hint of a smile spread across Repat's face as the adventurer happily collected his prize. What was he thinking as he saw the happy adventurers off? Repat pulled a coin from his boot and deftly rolled it over his fingers, muttering " Front and back, back and front. Words and actions, lies and truth. " I was about to ask what this meant, when he answered my question by saying to some passers-by, " And that's it! Pretty simple, huh? You can attack from the get go or you can sit back while other people roll, then come in for the final kill. We provide the dice, you choose the strategy. " Hearing those words, I understood. No adventurer traveling into the Outlands does so without dreams of wealth, but only a scant handful ever make real the dreams that led them to adventure. Lucky Roll is the same. Repat clearly enjoys watching the lives and actions of those who visit Norg. He'll probably keep this game running for a long time. My own 100 gil is in the hands of those lucky adventurers as I leave Norg. Maybe you'll be the next to get a Lucky Roll. Jahoy-Magoohoy

Ok, the problem I have with this article is the Lucky Roll bullshit never worked. I don't recall anyone I know actually winning, despite dumping more gil into this sinkhole than can possibly be won. 100g for a 1/4000 chance of winning 10,000 sounds pretty sweet, doesn't it? Repat is a genius, but I still want to kill him.

Following a carpenter friend of mine, I decided to try making a piccolo, a good instrument for beginners. But the price of the materials I needed to make the thing was sky-high! This is probably why so many of the adventurers out logging are actually carpenters. Seraphis, whom I met out on the Buburimu Peninsula, is one such carpenter. She's a newcomer to the world of carpentry and has taken up logging to support her hobby. Being such a newcomer, she lacks the experience to tell which trees are ready for the hatchet. She spends a lot of her time confused. Her linkshell friends think her a bit odd as they leave her behind to go slay monsters. They often tease her about whether chopping down trees is improving her axe-wielding skills. It doesn't seem to bother her, though; she's listening more to her heart than to her friends. " With the money I've spent on hatchets...No. I'll show them. I can follow the road of logging and carpentry all the way to fortune, " she says. This only makes her eyes shine brighter. There are other reasons why adventurers head out into the forest with a hatchet. Riddle the bard is an example. While she's still a beginner in carpentry, it is her dream to make instruments from wood she gathers herself. That's what led her to logging. Bards become one with their instruments, making beautiful music. The effect is even more powerful when it's an instrument you've poured your heart into--something you constructed from materials you gathered yourself. One day, Riddle will achieve her dream and play music that reaches to the very heart of Vana'diel's soul.

Miners grab their pickaxes and head into the tunnels and caves that comprise the mines, often staying within for several nights. Working in the resource-rich Gusgen Mines is a man named Fox, who seems to lose himself in his digging. It has been said for many years that miners often "uncover" things besides ore in this mine; one's concerns can quickly shift from monocline to monster-find. Fox is unconcerned, continuing to fund his adventures and his life through mining. Even as we spoke, Fox didn't rest, his pickaxe continuing to strike the rock in front of him. He paused just long enough to let a smile spread across his face when his pickaxe revealed something shiny in the rock. He'd found something! Of course, not every day is this lucky. There have been slow times with no lucky finds. Such dry spells often lead miners to consider changing professions. Returning to the city to sell the ore at auction, Fox savors the feeling of accomplishment--and is motivated to continue in this line of work. The next day will take him back to the mines. Even today, Fox is most likely working a nearby mine. Another who spoke to me about mining was a wise-looking, bearded man named Atla. He started mining to meet his adventuring expenses. He has since advanced to the point where he can estimate the presence of ore by simply looking at the rock face. He's also begun studying what happens to the ore once it has been mined. Because of this, he understands market trends--and when to sell which ores to whom and for how much. He also knows what other miners are going to be buying and selling in the near future. All of this helps him to get just a little bit extra for his ore. " Ore that doesn't sell is just rock, " he says, looking at the future of Vana'diel in the glittering stones next to his pickaxe.

Sickle-wielding farmers are often seen south of Sarutabaruta. With a temperate climate and all the resources needed for a textile industry, this region is a gathering place for weavers from all over Vana'diel. At the far western end of Sarutabaruta, in the middle of the Yagudo city of Giddeus, I met a weaver named Tiala. Tiala is currently searching for materials for use in her latest creation. Those who study weaving lose large quantities of expensive materials when their attempts at synthesis fail. On the other hand, materials you gather on your own don't cost you any money, so you can use them in difficult synthesis without feeling like you're risking too much. "The best part is sharpening my skill by making things out of materials I've gathered myself, " Tiala told me. The clothes you are wearing now are most likely a result of this sort of constant dedication. The odds are very good that your clothes were made by someone just like Tiala. Another weaver who proudly showed me the materials she gathered was Leika. Leika takes her scythe in hand because there is no guarantee that the guild shop will have enough of her desired materials. Of course, harvesting on your own requires far more effort than just buying things at the guild shop. On the other hand, the labor of harvesting on your own pays off when you travel and find materials that are not readily available at home. "Adventurers live side by side with danger. When surrounded by irritations and problems, using my scythe to reap the fruit of the land helps me to forget my troubles, " Leika says with a smile. The smell of the grasslands wafts from her well-tailored clothes. Contributor : Myhal / Gilgamesh

First of all, guys. Fuck gathering. Forever. I have a theory that the entire gathering industry thrives on planned obsolesce. They give us crappy picks, axes and scythes, possibly made in China, that break within one or two uses. The price of the stuff you gather only slightly outweighs the price of the tools you buy. If you're lucky. In the first article, Seraphis almost quits right then and there thinking about the price of her axes. That should tell you something.

I made an article about gathering earlier, so I don't beat this dead horse. Especially with a pickaxe, because it will break.

It hadn't been three days since I crossed the Tahrongi Canyon. Quite some ways from the road, I came across the entrance to a cave. Of course, I had to enter. It's not on any maps, so I figured it would be quite small. Hey, even I'm wrong once in a while. Within the space of a few hours, I managed to get myself lost in the labyrinthine caverns. I remembered my brother's warning from my childhood: "At times like this, aimless wandering is a bad idea." When I stood still, I could hear a faint voice coming out of the darkness. "Ah... A customer, huh? You got a reference or anything?" If I strained my eyes, I could just make out the outline of a goblin resting against the wall. What would a goblin be doing here? It wasn't like he had anything to sell. He slowly stood up and began to amble towards me. All I could think to do was toss him a beastcoin. The goblin lunged for the beastcoin, and bit it to ensure it was real. "Well, isn't this purty." Once he was satisfied that it was, in fact, a real beastcoin, he let out a little laugh, stuffed the coin in his pocket, and began to push the wall behind him with both hands. Very slowly, the wall opened up--it was a secret door! "They'se waitin' in the room back there. They been expectin' you." A long torch-lit hallway extended into the distance beyond the door. As I entered the hall, the door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing all along the corridor. I mustered my courage and set out in search of the room-or whatever lay beyond. A little ways down the corridor, I heard the raucous laughter of many people echoing off the rock walls from the distance. I summoned my courage and strode into the room at the end of the corridor. It was a cavern that had been converted into a room. There were people everywhere, cheering and shouting. Luckily, no one noticed me. I relaxed and approached the crowd near the entrance. I slipped into the ring of observers, looking over the shoulder of a tall Elvaan. There were four people around a simple table, listlessly rolling dice. About what I expected. "Hey! What's that? The Mithra won again! Something's fishy here," shouted a Hume man standing next to the tall Elvaan. I glanced back at the table in time to see a small Mithra gather a whole stack of "chips," or copper ingots, from the other players. "She did come all the way from Jeuno. She's a professional. It is not as if she could make a good living by relying on luck or skill, after all." Clearly, the Hume did not like this response. Of course, there were people like that all over Jeuno. Especially in that one little tavern... I had to suppress a smile. The Mithra looked up, her eyes meeting mine as I stared out past her. We continued to stare for a few seconds, stunned. When I regained my composure, I tried to speak to her. But, for some reason, she suddenly threw her die at me. It hit me square in the chest and dropped to the floor. When I looked up again, her face showed no indication of what she had done. She was back to the game. "Well done, buddy-wuddy! You oughtaru get a medal-wedal just for getting a reaction," said a Tarutaru with a hat covering his eyes. I decided it would not be a good idea for me to draw any more attention to myself. I grabbed the die off the floor and moved away from the table. It was then that I heard another voice from a different table: "'Scuse me, but I'm guessing this is your firrrst time here." "How about a game with us thrrree?" "Come on, sit down!" A chorus of similar voices rose up. At a table way in the back, I could see three Mithra waving at me. Just as I began to think something was up, a goblin standing next to me said, "Those three get first shot at newcomers. That's the way it is here. Turn them down and you're meat." It would be a pity to be filleted over a game of dice, so I headed over to their table and took the empty seat they offered me. The more I looked, the more the three Mithra seemed to resemble each other, right down to hairstyle and posture. I decided that they were sisters--or maybe triplets. "Heehee. Go easy on us," purred the one on the left, as she passed out copper ingots in place of chips. We each selected a die. I chose a black one. "Why don't you starrrt?" asked the Mithra across from me as she fiddled with her die. Even though I was only half into it, my heart leapt as I grabbed the die. I took the black die in my right hand and gave it a good throw.

Not... quite sure what the writer was getting at here. The article is titled "Women of Vana'diel", but they're focusing on these couple of extorting Mithra? Is that who you really want representing your gender, ladies?

Date unknown The mere act of writing invites waves of agony. I know neither where nor when I am writing. I have returned to consciousness in a dim stone room. The rain beating down on the roof is my only company as I write this. The only certainty I have is that I was to be executed. But instead of being sent to meet the Goddess at last, persons unknown, may the blessings of the Goddess be upon them, brought me here. My head still spins, but I must remember what has happened to me. Whatever it was, it occurred on the day I arrived in the Yagudo city of Giddeus. My knowledge of the Yagudo is all thanks to Zubaba, head lady-in-waiting of Windurst. The Yagudo lived in Sarutabaruta before the Tarutaru settled in Windurst, and the Yagudo have been at war with Windurst since the city was founded. The one among them who the Yagudo call "the avatar" is worshipped like a god. Even before speaking with Zubaba, I knew that the Yagudo would be the greatest challenge on my journey. Their fanatical devotion to false gods and barbaric ways is known as far away as San d'Oria. "Them Yagudos hates everything about you, Josea. Watch ya'self. You follow?" offered my translator and guide, Leadavox. Clearly, caution was the order of the day. I should have been more careful. What is merely a common greeting in San d'Oria enraged the Yagudo beyond anything I could have expected. The first Yagudo I encountered in Giddeus offered some helpful, if halting, advice in the common tongue: "Smoothskin. Not welcome further to here, kyah. Much danger for traveler kyah-kyah." His demeanor changed notably when I replied, "May your kindness bring upon you the blessings of Altana," and made the sign of the Goddess. Deadly silence overtook him and he trembled for a moment. Then he attacked me, chanting strange hymns. I later learned from my interrogator that receiving the blessings of Altana is a death sentence to the Yagudo. Without even the opportunity to dodge, let alone flee, I was struck on the head with a blunt instrument. The last thing I could see as my consciousness faded away was Leadavox's back as she scurried into the distance. When I opened my eyes, I discovered that the Yagudo had imprisoned me. The prison of Giddeus is an unusual structure consisting of a great number of towers, each crowned by a single cell holding a single prisoner. One cell held an emaciated Hume sitting motionless in his cell. Atop another spire was a Yagudo plucked of his feathers, reduced to the endless singing of a song I could not comprehend. I had been starved to the point where rising to my feet was a task beyond me. Just when I began to fear that my demise would come not at the sharp end of a sword or the natural end of a pious life, but rather in the cruel grip of hunger, I was once again paid a visit by the Yagudo I had dubbed "the Inquisitor." He questioned me thoroughly, speaking fluently and loudly in the common tongue. He inquired about my reason for coming to Giddeus, about San d'Oria, about my dealings with the Orcs and the Antica and the Sahagin. He spent a great deal of time on issues like my upbringing in San d'Oria. Explaining that I was not traveling the world as a spy for San d'Oria, I answered as vaguely as possible. This was tolerable to him until the questions shifted to the Yagudo's mortal enemy, Windurst. His manner and precision showed me that it was Windurst he was after. For those questions, he permitted neither ambiguity nor evasion. Even on pain of death, I would never betray the innocents of Windurst to monsters such as these. When I said to him, "I cannot answer that question," the Inquisitor clicked his beak and cawed. Perhaps he was mocking me. I know not. He brought out a bottle of yellow liquid and forced my mouth open, pouring the sweet liquid down my throat. I cannot even guess as to what the liquid was. I know only that my remaining strength vanished soon after I was given the strange potion. The Inquisitor began his questions again, this time speaking very slowly. My memory of the event consists of but the dim recollection of divulging all the information I could provide him. My only clear memory is the depravity he whispered in my ear. "Swear yourself to our god, kyah! And spy for us. Do this, live, kyah! Do not, you die, kyah!" "False gods will never have my allegiance," I answered. The Inquisitor could not contain his anger and cursed me as he left the cell. In his place came one of their Persecutors, who explained through his beak that even an "unbeliever" such as myself had the right to beg the mercy of the Yagudo god. It was expected that I kneel before his wicked god and pray for death. Upon my refusal, he began to inflict upon me unforgivable suffering. From under my fingernails came paralyzing pain. There was the unmistakable odor of searing flesh. The Persecutor splashed cold water on me whenever I started to pass into merciful unconsciousness. Each time I became aware that there were more cuts and burns about my body. How many days this horror lasted, I do not know. But even in this wretched state, not a single time did my will break nor my mind entertain the thought of supplicating to evil. In the end, I outlasted the Persecutor. I bested him by withstanding what must have been more than ten days and nights of the greatest horrors that can be visited upon a man. For this, they sentenced me to death. A pittance to pay for my devotion to the Goddess. I was dragged from my cell and chained to a cliff overlooking Giddeus. Chained next to me was the singing Yagudo, bereft of all his feathers. He soon breathed his final breath, becoming at last a meal for the vultures that circled above. Through my failing consciousness and weakened body, I was barely able to even bite my lip. To fall asleep would be to breathe my last, to become yet another meal for the vultures still circling in the sky. Alas, my recollection ends there. And here I awoke to the sound of the rain pounding on the roof. What happened between then and now, I cannot even venture a guess. I have been rescued and some unknown benefactor, may he receive all the blessings the Goddess can shower upon him, has bandaged my wounds. Putting this to paper has sapped the last of my strength. I wonder what fate held in store for Leadavox... Goddess, it is again by your grace and favor that I yet breathe. For this, you have my eternal gratitude.

Let me point out that this guy Joseaneaut is a White Mage with body artifact gear, meaning he is at least level 58. There we see this man lying unconcious, not inside Giddeus, but somewhere in Sarutabaruta, where the Yagudo range from level 0 to "haha that tickles". He sure is living up to his Elvaan name. Then he talks about religion or something. All I can focus on is he got beaten to death by a bird with a spoon.

Good morning. Is everybody ready? Since this is the first article in the series, I thought I'd start out by introducing myself.  My name is Emanritan, though many of my students call me "Professor Eman." I am an anthropologist, meaning I study the different races of Vana'diel, as well as their ways and customs. I'm sure you are curious about my age, but I'm afraid that I can't tell you that. I can tell you that I have been doing research since well before any of you were born. Introductions being finished, let's get down to business. "Anthropology" sounds like something very difficult, doesn't it? Well, it is. However, these articles are called "Just for Fun," not "A Doctoral Dissertation in the Naming Customs of the Races of Vana'diel," so we're going to tone it down a little bit and keep it light so that you young people can continue your other pursuits, like adventuring. I promise not to bore you to death. Our first lecture will be a simple introduction to the names of the Elvaan. As you know, the Elvaan are a rather tall race and are known for their prominent pointed ears. In my youth, I often wished (secretly, of course) that I was as stylish and as--what do you young kids say now? --"groovy" as the Elvaan. What types of names come to mind when someone mentions the Elvaan? Very common names for males include "Cyranuce," "Aurege," and "Raminel." "Monberaux" and "Civerion" are also very classy names, don't you think?  They have a certain refinement to them, very high class. These names sound well suited to beings made of gossamer. Why is that? The Elvaan are known for their swordsmanship and other skills in battle. Elvaan culture considers having one's exploits woven into an epic poem to be among the greatest of honors, so it is no surprise that Elvaan give their children names that would fit nicely in such an epic. But what about the women? Take, for example, the names of some of my friends, such as "Lutia," "Catalia" and "Nenne." "Leaute" and "Esca" are also typical names for Elvaan females. These are all names of my girlfriends, but that's another story. A very large percentage of Elvaan women are beautiful with well-defined features. Why is this? "Unadorned" and "strong" are the ideas that these names are meant to honor and communicate. Or, at least, this is the theory I'm looking into. So the names that Elvaan give to their daughters tend to be shorter and easier to say that those given to sons. Sharp and clear names really fit, don't you think? Just a single name tells us a lot about the unique background and characteristics of the Elvaan. That's all for this time. See you here next time. Stay well!

Here's another article I find a little confusing. Sure, this is about the fancy Elvaan names that should be; strong, proud, hard to pronounce, way too many vowels. And yet the new adventurers run around with names like XcloudX and Poonslayer. Very proud indeed.

Let me wrap this first issue up by saying even though these are cheesy articles about nonsense, they are a part of history and should be treated as such. A stupid, silly history that is now engraved on our very soul because it is officially sanctioned by Square-Enix. This is cannon, guys. Let that sink in.