Nostalgia

A bit o'nostalgia, right here. Found this relic while I was cleaning out my closet. Also a lot of skeletons. Figurative and literal. 

Yep, what you're looking at is the original FFXI PS2 HDD forged in the depths of hell. This was one of three I had over the years, having lost the previous two during moves across the country. Contained within is, I'm assuming, several vengeful spirits, possibly Elvaan, that will devour my soul upon release, covering the planet in blackness for all eternity until we take our own lives with forks to the temple.

Let's crack this bitch open.

Eh, no vengeful spirits, but I did find a few HDD utility discs, which is sort of the same thing. I doubt any of us ever used the web browser, but it came with that as well. The manual was a neat thing to flip through. It did a very good job of explaining keyboard commands to a generation of losers raised solely on four buttons and a joystick.

It was actually very fascinating to see exactly how many user-friendly applications they packed into a console game. It simplified party structure, questing, combat, and social crap. Emotes and macros were something of a mystery to me back then, and I probably would have understood things better if I actually read the manual.

There's also a little section in the back about the then newly added expansion, Rise of the Zilart, which came standard with the North American release. It gave a bit of info on the new regions added, along with Ninja, Dragoon, and ya boi Samurai.

Side note: Remember when Dragoon's 2hr ability was Call Wyvern? This manual does.

My collection of expansions. Chains of Promathia and Treasures of Aht Urhgan, I vaguely remember, were purchased somewhere in Louisiana. Wings of the Goddess, I distinctly remember, was purchased at a Gamestop in Miami, FL and I was fuckin' hyped for it.

It's really interesting checking out the little inserts giving an overview of what each expansion adds. Everything is taken for granted nowadays, people often forget there was a time when all these things were new, and new regions were being added constantly. It's commonplace for MMOs to throw out updates every month or so, but FFXI held off on everything and gave us a shit ton of content in each expansion.

Them's were the days, guys. Them's were the days.

This.

This fucking thing.

I remember spending $80 on this. I remember taking a week off of work to get a head start on early access. I remember paying monthly for this fucking piece of shit before it was forced to go free to play for a year just so people wouldn't abandon ship.

My blog is full of the horrible things FFXIV used to be, so I won't harp on that any more than I have to. But this thing begs to be burned. Why have I not thrown this box in a wood chipper, smeared my face with feces and laughed maniacally while dancing naked? First of all, that's oddly specific and unsanitary.

Shame on you.

The reason I'm keeping this box is because it's literally the only thing linking me to the FFXIV that was. The notebook that came with it is gone, the CD case disappeared, and my Rite of Passage that I actually mailed in for was stolen by a weeaboo cow with bad hair. This empty husk is all I have left as proof I was there on the front lines when the going was tough.

I'd like to thank you all for going on this nostalgia trip with me. More will be in store when I find other random crap while cleaning up the dead bod- cookies.

Cleaning up the cookies.

This is Just a Tribune IV

Wasn't that fun? With the friends list and the numbers and the pies. I had a good time. But more importantly, did you?

It was nostalgic to go back and check my list. A vast majority of the names were people that made an impact on my life during those early years. The rest were stupid, stupid people. 

I will probably do something of the like in coming posts, we'll see. 

For now, we're continuing with our beloved Tribune series. What does this issue have in store for us?!

Old dudes and trees. This is going to be interesting.

Maat, a most mysterious figure, can be found quietly training on the grounds of the Auroral Place, the seat of the Jeunoan government. Maat is in fact a legendary fighter, held in great esteem by even the Ducal Guard. But the adventurers who come to him for training feel somewhat differently; few hide their opinions when questioned about his training methods. Some respond to the mere mention of his name by curtly saying that he is an old crank who demands the impossible. Others will go even further, saying things like: "One day I'm going to wring that old geezer's neck myself." The one most keenly aware of this aggression is Maat himself. That is why he has decided to offer this most daunting of challenges to those that he deems strong enough. "Well, now that you mention it, I think I'd be delighted to test your might with my own hands," he has been heard saying. This is, at long last, a dream come true for many. News of the challenge spread quickly, and Maat is now swamped with challengers. And what of those who have finished this final showdown? What are their impressions? Vana'diel Tribune reporter Finleen was there to ask them. "I let him know exactly how I've felt all these years!" said a warrior named Dainslef (Asura). "I'm not letting him concede next time! I'm taking him down!" promised Waka (Ramuh), a white mage. "With this, I can once again grow as a red mage," said Erene (Bismarck). "All you've got to do is get him before he gets you," said Gsan (Ramuh), a thief. "Three cheers for vile elixir!" shouted a paladin named Kaichan (Ramuh). "It's all about knowing when to use your abilities," said Ellenoyle (Asura), a paladin. "Honestly, sometimes he just made me mad. But he also showed me my weaknesses," said a dark knight named Yukine (Ramuh). "Thank you, old man!" said Vienna (Ramuh), a bard. "I'm so happy I got to jam with Maat, " said a bard named Legoras (Ramuh). "Don't tell anyone, but I was so nervous that I grabbed the wrong equipment for the fight," lamented a ranger named Mnick (Fenrir). "Honest to Goddess, I only won by a hair," said a ranger named Sio (Ramuh). Surprisingly, many of those interviewed have suffered painful defeat at Maat's hands. It was that very experience that allowed them to beat him in the end. Perhaps this is the best indication of Maat's true strength. But maybe we'll never know for sure. He's certainly not just some "irritating old codger." Tales of Maat's dealings with adventurers have reached as far as Bastok. Degenhard, who trains on a corner in the market district, said excitedly: "That Maat fellow? Is he still around? I've got to say that I'm impressed with all of these people who are taking him on and winning. Folks like that make for a hard act to follow." Many decades ago, Degenhard trained at the same dojo as Maat. He's one of the few who knows Maat's mysterious past. They were fierce rivals in their youth. They shared the same dreams, the same joys, the same pain. Maat has been an important force in Degenhard's life. The two aged warriors faced off many a time. Even living so far apart, they still follow the same training regimen they always have, and they still impart the same dream to young adventurers. Interviews : Finleen / Story : Nolvillant

For those of you who don't know, or don't care to remember, Maat was that guy you angrily went to when you found out you couldn't level past 50. Or 55. Or 60. He sent you on a stupid quest, usually killing X to retrieve Y, so you could break past your level limit and continue having fun.

It was mundane, pointless, and turned people into begging sheep due to the fact it was next to impossible for you to complete the required quest solo at your current capped level. 

The only reason you probably even remotely liked the old guy was if you kicked his ass enough times, he would give you his hat, which meant something a long time ago, but it's probably crap now.

Possibly replaced by a hairpin, like everything else.

While sparkling lights illuminated the streets of Vana'diel and brightened the spirits of city-dwellers, a group of once-radiant Twinkling Treants was wreaking havoc all across the land. The nearly forgotten treants were returned to the Rhinostery in Windurst and were scheduled for incineration. The mysterious trees had other plans. "Getting rid of those trees should have been mere routine, but they woke from their stasis, and boy, were they mean!" explained a representative of the Rhinostery, which sought help from adventurers in controlling the well-rooted menace. This unusual situation was taking place right outside the city. A giant treant, beautifully decorated with multicolored lights, was thrashing about at the many adventurers that surrounded it. The treant's delicate ornamentation belied it's incredible strength. The adventurers that surrounded the creature were dropping like flies beneath the treant's withering assault. "Can we really beat this thing?" inquired one anonymous voice from the increasingly dispirited crowd. Their exhaustion was beginning to show. Suddenly, a shout rose up from the throng. It was Taxman, who had opened a linkshell called "TreeSweepers" specifically for this event. He was one of the first to answer the call to arms, gathering adventurers to fight against the Twinkling Treants. He quickly assembled a strong group of adventurers. Both useful information and wild theories began to fly. "We should just hammer it with skillchains." "We've got way too many people to coordinate something like that. We're better off with everybody just hitting the thing as hard as they can." "How about a tidal wave of black magic?" Mixing these ideas with a healthy dose of trial and error, the adventurers threw everything they had at the tree. Its strength slowly began to ebb. Even off of the front lines, there were plenty of roles to be played. Taxman flew to Jeuno to gather more adventurers. Pascal, a white mage traveling with Taxman, teleported the new recruits to the battle. "Being a white mage isn't just curing and healing. I'm doing whatever I can," said Pascal. Their actions seemed to be helping. Soon the treant was completely swarmed by adventurers. Nearby was Kirinji, selling grilled hare for only one gil per slice. "I made this food because it was all I could do to aid the fight," he stated. Even as Kirinji spoke, adventurers were wolfing down the meat before heading to the front lines. Despite the heavy beating the tree was taking from the surrounding adventurers, the furious flora continued to retaliate. Eventually, the last of its seemingly limitless strength faded. The lifeless hulk crashed to the ground amid cheers and shouts. Fireworks were lit. Dances were danced. Hats were tossed high in the air. Everyone shared in the joy of the victory and praised each other's bravery and fighting prowess. "At first, I didn't even think it was possible. But we just kept plugging away at the thing and, working together, we brought it down. What a feeling!" enthused an adventurer named Mine. This group was not alone in this treant-toppling task. Adventurers throughout the world gathered together to slay all of the wayward treants. "Assassin" fought hard to the last. "I couldn't rest until the last of the trees had been vanquished. I went all over the world," he said with a sigh of relief. Hearing the news that the treants had fallen, the three nations opened a teleport service to show their gratitude to the adventurers. This new service is being operated by the Specialty Goods Trade Union. Rottan is just one of many who are thrilled with this news. He couldn't wait to try out the service by teleporting to a far-flung region, no doubt to savor the collective victory. Finally, Taxman, who opened the linkshell, looked back on the experience and said: "All I did was get the ball rolling. This is everyone's victory." As Taxman says, there were no standouts in the battle; such a victory could only occur by steadfast teamwork and cooperation. Contributor : Storm / Kujata

When they title their article "Trees Gone Wild," my mind conjures images of Treants in bikinis drunkenly exposing their bark-covered boobs during Spring break, causing monocled old people to exclaim "Well I never!"

This article was not that.

During the Christmas event, Treants covered in lights would roam outside of each nation, causing panic on the younger, more retarded adventurers.

While sentient Yule logs are interesting in their own right, my article would have been waaay better.

Just about everyone who lives in Jeuno has seen the adorable little girl selling flowers in a corner of the Ru' Lude Gardens. That Mithra girl is Dabih Jajalioh. Though still just a kitten, Dabih Jajalioh is doing excellent business as a representative of the M&P Market. M&P Market is, of course, the famous general store near the clock tower. They also have a branch in Kazham, on Elshimo Island. Dabih Jajalioh shows up for work everyday. Her focus and dedication are a source of encouragement to others on the street. There are even rumors that she has fans who visit her on a regular basis. The other day, an adventurer arrived with fresh news of Dabih Jajalioh. He reported that she had expanded her inventory beyond flowers. I hadn't had the chance to see her lately, so I decided to pay her a visit. Entering the Ru'Lude Gardens from Upper Jeuno and walking by the auction house, I heard a familiar voice at the bottom of the stairs call out, "Hello therrre. I worrrk for the M&P Market. I'm still new, so I don't know much about selling stuff..." Naturally, it was Dabih's voice. She waved happily when she caught sight of me. I waved back in reply, in spite of myself. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, she was more than happy to show me her new and improved selection. She began to rattle off details of her business before I could even ask a question. "Look! So many people have been buying from me that the ownerrr gave me morrre things to sell! I'm so happy! I'm going to sell more than I ever have beforrrre!" I found her work ethic touching. I bought a lilac and one of the ogre pumpkins that she had just begun to sell. The next day, I visited the M&P Market in Upper Jeuno and spoke to the owner, Champalpieu. "She greatly enjoys dealing with the customers. Even in the most frigid temperatures, she will wait there at the bottom of the stairs to see who will pass by next. She is rather young, but her demeanor is that of a true businesswoman," he told me. Before returning to our offices, I stopped by Dabih's store again and bought another lilac. I watched her deal with several other customers. A few adventurers stopped to buy flowers and pumpkins. She saw them off with a smile, then took a deep breath before shouting to the crowds again: "Hello therrre, handsome! The M&P Market has a lot of useful items, just for you!" Her cheery voice echoed over the Ru'Lude Gardens as the sun set. With the continuing support of adventurers and the fine citizens of Jeuno, Dabih will most certainly grow up to be a fine businesswoman. I hope to see her when she does. Rirukuku

I remember that stupid little girl in Jeuno. When people would ask about a chocobo egg, I'd point them to her. When they got there, of course her stock had changed, making me look like a poop face liar.

She had nothing of value, which you had to buy in order to get something of above average value.

I was always glad to be in Dynamis Jeuno so I could truthfully tell myself she is no longer in this world. 

The day after crossing the Nonpipi River, I arrived in Windurst, on the southern tip of Mindartia. It has been five long years since I was last in Windurst. I was serving in a mercenary unit that had set up camp in Giddeus and was dispatched to replenish our waning food supply. That was my first and only visit to the city. As much as I would have liked to take the time to look at this peaceful city--so different from San d'Oria or Jeuno--I was not there as a tourist. All I can remember is that I was in and out on the same day. This time figured to be different. I had no responsibilities save that of enjoying myself; with this on my mind, I began my sightseeing with a stroll through Windurst Woods. I spoke with a Cardian at the Manustery and visited the Mithra District, where I caught a glimpse of the esteemed Mithra Chieftainness. I was amused to see that they had even named the dhalmels at a nearby ranch. After roaming about Windurst Woods, I figured that I'd go pay my respects to the Great Star Tree. I looked up and realized that I was much closer to the port than I was to Windurst Walls. I decided that as long as I was in the area, I would check out the Fishermen's Guild. As I was opening my map to catch my bearings, something wrapped around one of my legs. "Huh?" Slightly stunned, I looked down and saw a Tarutaru woman clinging tightly to my right leg. Figuring it was little more than juvenile mischief, I went to scold her. But then, she shouted: "It's been soooo long. I'm so happy-wappy to see you again!" Was this somebody I knew from long ago? I bent over to look at her. She had pointed ears and round eyes spilling over with tears. Her nose reminded me of a puppy's. But I still couldn't say for sure whether I had actually met her before. But something... "That gentle-wentle gaze! Your wistful smile! It's just like the lastaru time I saw you. I'm so happy-wappy..." she said as she pressed her cheek against my leg. I got a little wrapped up in all the attention. "Ummm, what last time?" I tried to ask, but her squeaky voice cut me off. "Looky-wook! Over there! That's the armor shop, remember-wember?" She looked up at me, grinning from ear to ear, as she clung to the sleeve of my coat like a child. She pointed to the armor shop at the end of the pier, oblivious to my confusion. "Actually, I just quit my job tending the store. But the cloak you leftaru me ten years ago..." she said. "Just a moment," I interrupted. I squatted down and brought my eyes level to hers. "I think you've mistaken me for somebody else. I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner." After all, my visit to Windurst was five years ago, not ten. "Oh dear..." The Tarutaru woman stood in silence for a moment looking utterly crestfallen. Then she turned tail and ran away. I decided to visit the armor shop at the end of the pier instead of the Fishermen's Guild. This woman's story might be interesting, I thought. The girl at the counter of the armor shop closely resembled the lady with the case of mistaken identity. I inquired about my encounter and what had happened ten years ago. I got a very interesting answer. Evidently, the girl who had bumped into me had worked at this same armor shop ten years ago and was the sister of the woman I was speaking with. "She's going to getaru married soon, so I took over her jobby-wob at the shop," she said proudly. The store owner finished up with another customer and joined our conversation, providing more information about the young lady. Before she met her fiance, she had spent ten years smitten with the very first customer she had ever helped. The shop owner couldn't recall the man's face--or any other details, for that matter--except that he was a Hume. Perhaps I look something like the man from ten years ago. I began to feel as though I had done something terrible to the girl. If I hadn't come to the port, she would have been spared a great deal of pain. I called a halt to my sightseeing. For some reason, it just didn't seem to hold my interest anymore. Forgoing dinner, I returned to the hostel and collapsed on the bed. I quickly fell asleep and had a rather strange dream. "Hi there. This really is an interesting city," I said. In the dream, I was speaking to a young Tarutaru girl as if we'd known each other for years. Her cheeks reddened as she looked up at me and said, "Wh-whataru can I do for you?" The shop was somehow familiar. It looked a little bit like the armor shop at the end of the pier. After the customary chit-chat, I began to take things out of my trunk and lay them on the counter. The girl seemed nervous as she appraised each item in turn. I paused after I had laid out the last item. I leaned on the counter and thought things over for a minute. The girl appeared worried as she looked over at me. "I just can't sell this. Hey, beautiful, how would you like this cloak for yourself?" I blurted out. "N-no! I couldn'taru. That's far too lovely-wuvly for me." "No it's not. I had to work hard to get my hands on this. Unfortunately, I'm not going to need it anymore. Here, you take it. It really brings out the amber in your eyes." She was stunned, and tottered under the weight of the crimson cloak. I remember laughing happily as I left the store. That laughter was what woke me. Something was wrong. I don't laugh like that. That wasn't me. It was somebody who looked a lot like me, though. "It couldn't be...." My body felt like a lead weight. I cradled my aching head in my hands to greet the morning.

First of all, the name Nonpipi makes me giggle.

Secondly, if sitting around part-time with your bazaar up was boring enough, I could only imagine the tedium of being an actual shopkeeper. You'd have to deal with... People...

Kill me now.

12/20 Leada's keen nose caught the smell of blood as we passed through the lengthening shadow of Mount Ghelsba. The sun was setting, but I estimated that we were a mere five malm from the capital. Trusting Leada's gut instinct, I followed her off the road, where we found two bodies on the ground. The blood spattered in the dirt and on the trees indicated that this was the remnant of a nasty fight. One body was that of a young Elvaan man who was, by the look of his armor, a Temple Knight. The other was small like a Tarutaru, but with green skin and yellow eyes. I'd never seen one before, but this was clearly a Tonberry. But how did a beastman from Elshimo get so near to our noble kingdom? Leada was also giving the beastman a puzzled look. Had the Tonberry and the Temple Knight stabbed each other? The Tonberry had fallen to the ground, still gripping a blood-soaked knife in his left hand and a broken lantern in his right. I paused to pray for their souls, and then hurried to San d'Oria to inform the Temple Knights. I knew not the details of this odd find, but a Tonberry in the forests of Ronfaure is not to be overlooked. Passing through the gates of the city, we headed straight for the guard post, where we explained the situation to the Temple Knights. Several of them followed us back to the site. I couldn't believe my eyes. Only the corpse of the Temple Knight remained. The Tonberry had vanished, along with his knife and lantern. "That wretched Goblin fiend must be to blame," shouted one of the knights. The group drew their swords on Leada. I tried to dampen their suspicion by explaining my mission and her role in it. The Temple Knights would not listen, nor would they believe me when I insisted that there had been a Tonberry lying on the ground. Worse still, they suspected me of lying to protect Leada and imprisoned me for the perceived offense. Sometime around midnight, a priest from the cathedral arrived to plead for my freedom by explaining who I was and what I was doing. They released me, but they would not consent to do the same for Leada, as they had not yet found the real killer. Now I must prove Leada's innocence. Though I am safe in the cathedral, Leada is trapped by the cold stone walls of the Watchtower. Goddess, shine upon this city your light of truth! 12/21 I was permitted to delay my mission's progress report by a day so that I might have time to study the writings kept the in cathedral library and learn of the Tonberries. Tonberries live in a temple called "Uggalepih." They are known to have a deep and burning hatred for people. They never set down their lanterns or knives until they have died. The records also list many instances of Tonberries being employed as very effective assassins. That was all I could glean from the many books I read, but it was all I needed. Could this Tonberry be an assassin? Perhaps the knight found him and attacked. But could the Tonberry have survived? If he had, he could have sneaked into the city. Perhaps he is simply waiting for the chance to strike? Realizing that this was a very real threat, I ran from the cathedral and began searching. I looked on Pikeman's Way, Watchdog Alley, Cavalry Way, Ranperre Gate, Squire Alley, and Laborman's Way. I had to find him and convince him to stop the assassination. I ran all about the city, asking everyone I met. Alas, majestic San d'Oria is far too large. It felt like no time at all before the sun had started to set. Could it have all been in my head? A meaningless obsession? I sat down by the fountain on the Parade Ground as I mentally perused such a possibility. A piercing whistle and a shout from Ranperre Gate shattered my reverie. "We've found the intruder!" Temple Knights began to appear and rush across the square. I rose and followed after them. The Tonberry stood under the gate at the entrance to Laborman's Way, surrounded by the advancing guards. He held a broken lantern in his right hand. There can be no doubt that he was the same one I had seen previously. Even from such a distance, I could see that there was no escape for him. But I could not, in the mercy of the Goddess, allow such a wanton taking of life. I stepped forward to save him, but one of the Temple Knights grabbed my sleeve--a clear signal that I was unwelcome to proceed further. At the same moment I yanked my arm back, the Tonberry pulled something from the folds of his cloak. A flash of red light leapt from his hand, sending a shockwave to wash over us. This last-minute attack seriously injured four knights. No clues remained of the assassin, who his target might have been, or who had hired him. Not even a body could be found. The Tonberry had simply vanished. In the middle of the night, the priest brought Leada back to the cathedral, but I was unable to greet her with the good cheer she deserved. I had set out on my journey to spread the light of Altana so that I might bridge the gap that exists between people and beastmen. But what good has come of it? I was unable to convince the Temple Knights that even though she is a Goblin, Leada is not a murderer. I was not even able to prevent humans and beastmen from attempting to kill each other right before my own eyes. I am worthless. I do not think Leada is used to soft beds, as she is currently jumping up and down on hers, singing:   I took a pickaxe and I dug,   Work'd to the bone and I dug,   Shining gold, home I drug.   But from that dream, I sadly woke,   In real sweat did my body soak,   And without that gold, I am broke. Goddess, will my mission fail to light the road to understanding for my brothers?

Hey there, Joseaneaut, old buddy. What shenanigans are you getting into this time?

Although I approve of Tonberry-on-Elvaan crime, they are way out of your league, pal. I've seen you fight. Stay far away from them and basically anything else. Any crime scene you come across, please leave to trained professionals.

I don't have to elaborate further, you pretty much summed it up well in the end. Maybe Club Penguin is  more your speed.

Friends?

So, remember that hastily unprofessional post about my friends list? Turns out, it got a bit of a response on the Bismarck Facebook group. A lot of other people knew these guys and wanted to know where they were too. A couple losers still play, but I didn't say that to their faces. Because I'm not mean.

Eventually, like I do, got to drinking. And I got to thinking. Then I was drinking some more. But then I was thinking.

When and why did all my friends decide to quit? Was there some kind of government conspiracy to make me alone in the universe? Or did everyone just get bored.

Like I do every once in a while when I get drunk or stalkerish, I went snooping on FFXIAH and compiled data as to when these people on my friends list last played.

The data I found may shock you!

Of the 168 current people on my friends list, data was only obtainable for 126. The other missing 42 people were either not there at all, or a similar name was found on a different server, leading me to believe they had abandoned the Bismarck motherland. Losers.

Ok, maybe it's not shocking at all. It's a circle with lines. It looks professional as shit. Totally makes up for that friends list post.

As you can see, an overwhelming amount of people did their adventuring until 2009 then gave up.

2007 and 2011 were also popular quitting years, but I want to focus on the vastly superior 2009 numbers.

As you can see, January and June were the highest quitting months for the most quitted(?) year.

Why is that? What caused everyone to give up around this time?

I did some digging and found out updates for those months, which may explain the spikes in people playing.

Seeing as there were no January or February updates in 2009, I went back to 2008 and found an update on December 9, 2008. The main update being the edition of Fields of Valor, allowing losers to level quicker. Treasure caskets were also added for a bunch of areas, giving said losers something else to do while leveling.

Losers.

To possibly explain the spike in June, an update in April 9, 2009 (The day after my birthday, mind you!) gave us a bunch of new Wings of the Goddess quests, as well as Moblin Maze Monger stuff, which no one ever did. A few changes were made to Fields of Valor locations, white mage spells were altered, and Crystalline Prophecy chest rewards were added.

While these updates do not definitively account for the spike in people playing, it gives a little context. Big updates equals more people. Even if it's just a fraction of my friends list, if you added up other people's friends lists, it could have a bigger impact.

I fully expect this data finding experience to win me the Vana'diel equivalent of the Nobel Prize. Cid Prize, or something. I want a prize. Like a beer or something.

This is Just a Tribune III

Moving on with our incredibly hilarious series, we got a humdinger of a hoodilly.

Yes! YES! YEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!1!!!111!!!11one

Christmas event! Event in general! EVENT!

I love the Christmas event. Even in FFXIV, it's one of my favorite. The development team really captures the holiday spirit with all the lights and the music and the snow sometimes.

So let's take a look at what the Tribune had to say about the most wonderful time of the year!

You've probably seen the sparkling trees in San d'Oria, Bastok, and Windurst. If not, let me explain where to find them. In San d'Oria, visit the parade grounds in Northern San d'Oria to see the city's most impressive display. The trees standing on either side of the fountain are draped with red and green streamers that form an archway leading to Chateau d'Oraguille. No one seems to tire of gazing at the colorful decorations adorning the tree branches. When the sun sets, the trees go from striking to spectacular. They seem to beckon the viewer to an irresistible fantasy world. Many spectators stood beneath the trees the night I went out to gather information. One group of adventurers had settled themselves in the square for a full night of merrymaking under the lights. Nearby stood Antonian, a merchant selling specialty goods. He was catching the snowflakes that drifted down from the sky and gazing at them in wonder as they melted in his hands. I passed through Victory Arch into Southern San d'Oria. Beautifully decorated city streets greeted my eyes and cheered my heart. Even the tireless Raminel took a break from his labors to see the sights in Victory Square and Pikeman's Way. An old woman living in a house along the street merrily said, "My balcony has the best seats in all of San d'Oria." In Bastok, the trees in the market district are drawing the most attention. The four trees that surround the fountain are supported by a giant metallic brace, the frame itself covered in decoration. The overall impression is of a very technically advanced country. "Are crystals making it shine? Magic? Those surely aren't jewels!" laughed a goldsmith, shaking her head at the dazzling display on Gold Street. The tree in Port Bastok is quite impressive, reminiscent of a bell. That tree greets customers visiting the Steaming Sheep restaurant. Pelinvarde, a fortune-teller standing outside, smiled as he watched a pair of lovers taking in the sights. The tree in the fountain plaza of Windurst Woods is certainly worth a look. Windurst has always cherished harmony with nature. So it is no surprise that its residents chose to decorate the trees that have long stood there rather than set up new ones for the occasion. If you look closely, you can see Star Tree and fluoro-flora motifs running through the ornaments. I met Seno Zarhin in the square. She seemed quite happy with the decorations there. With tail waving as she walked, she never wandered far from the tree. A pair of Tarutaru sisters romped about the outer steps of the Manustery, a spot which offers an excellent view of the lights. They had gotten some of Professor Koru-Moru's latest fireworks from a moogle and were tossing them about, innocently exclaiming, "They're beautiful! The professor is amazing!" It was a heartwarming scene. The girls said that besides Koru-Moru's newest fireworks, "San d'Oria Flash" and "Bastok Snow" are also being handed out. When I went to talk to the moogle, he gave me some unusual fireworks that were actually different from the three types that the girls had mentioned. Seeing the trees in all three nations and talking to the citizens there reminded me how much people can love their homelands. Their pride was evident as they watched over their trees. Only one thing worries me: What has become of last year's trees? What happened to the large trees with the strange faces that the Rhinostery presented to the other nations last year? Am I the only one who has a bad feeling about this? Rirukuku

Picture it: Logging on, running through Bastok Markets towards Port Bastok square (I'm assuming everyone made the right nation choice), gazing upon the enormous tree decorated with ribbons, and popping a few fireworks as the sun goes down and the tree illuminates the night. 

Nothing in this world fills me with more holiday spirit. Except maybe a Christmas eve Ouija session gone awry.

My favorite part was doing all the little events they had set up, mostly giving out presents to smelly Galka orphans, and receiving something to place in your mog house and forget about. Usually a tree or snowman or something stupid. But I loved it.

An endless stream of new adventurers aspires to the stature of the great defenders of our age. But the recent and sudden rise in novice adventurers has affected many aspects of life in Vana'diel. The most striking effect is the new makeup of the conquest maps. Tragically, many regions have fallen into the horrific grip of the beastmen. "I'm stunned. All of a sudden, the beastmen suddenly started taking control all over the place," said one adventurer. "We haven't seen beastman activity like this since the Great War," said another. The beastmen, aware of the newcomers' inexperience in the ways of war, believe they have found the perfect opportunity to launch a counterattack. Meanwhile, the growth in the number of adventurers has also had an impact on everyday life. One adventurer complained, "I have some fairly unusual equipment, so people are always checking me out. It's embarrassing." Many veteran adventurers remain puzzled by the inexplicable behavior of their younger brethren. Gutti, a longtime adventurer, had this to say: "It looks to me like they're running around without any idea of what they're really doing. They're not taking their own strengths and weaknesses into account when they choose their battles or their strategies. I think they need more guidance from experienced adventurers." Gutti might be right. But is there anything the veterans can do to help the rookies? Some veteran adventurers are making an effort to support and mentor the newcomers. Among them is Ppe, who provides advice for fledgling adventurers and answers their questions. Ppe is right at home in this role, though at first he was at a loss trying to teach even basic strategy. He said, "When I met them, they were marching around trying to kill whatever they happened to come across. The deepest they got into strategy was to know that the sharp end of the sword will kill the goblin. It was just shocking. I started by explaining to them that they need to divide up duties among themselves." Ppe even joined them on the battlefield, showing them how different tactics work. The improvement was apparent immediately. There are other veterans like Willtopower, who purchased a new linkshell and joined a young party in their adventures. Hoping to show them another way to earn money, Willtopower also gave fishing rods to the group. Such generosity is the hallmark of his teaching. Willtopower does not limit himself to passing on his knowledge of adventuring--he also freely gives food and equipment. In the end, he went so far as to present the group with the unopened linkshell so they might help each other in the future. "Some might say that I'm trying to do too much, but I'm only giving them an opportunity. Whether they make use of it is up to them." His pupils, now far from amateurs, expressed cheerful gratitude for his work. "When we first started out, nobody was willing to share their knowledge of the world. I was extremely lucky to meet someone as generous and helpful as Willtopower, " said one. Most of that group have found their own style and are now based in Jeuno. "I believe that, when you help a newcomer, he'll turn around and help someone else later. That's why it's so important for experienced adventurers to go out and help younger, less experienced people," said Willtopower. As Willtopower indicates, we need to think of the future and help adventurers who are still wet behind the ears. Someday, they will be experienced and, with proper mentoring, become stalwart allies in future battles. Contributor : Storm / Kujata

I wholeheartedly agree with this article. New adventurers are a bane to the very foundation of our existence. Not only do they disrupt the marching conquest over the beastmen hordes we worked so hard to attain, but they're just plain stupid. Running around in subligara and BDSM harnesses. 

The nerve! 

And the /tells. Jeebus Cripes, if you were a Mentor, you know the struggle. Keep your M flag down, or you'll get the stupidest questions.

Please stop giving them fishing rods. They are just finding new ways to impale themselves.

Food is an indispensable part of life. But it is chefs that transform it into delicious works of art. Have you ever wondered how these culinary artists polish their skills? I traveled to the Culinarians' Guild in Windurst Waters to find out. While I was waiting in front of the guild, a Tarutaru named Rukah and an Elvaan named Pharis approached. They hesitated when I told them what I was looking for, saying that neither of them had any experience as a chef. I believe it was more than a chance encounter, for when I suggested that they try their hands at the culinary arts, they looked at each other and nodded. They mustered their courage and entered the guild for the first time, deciding that their first challenge would be a simple dish: grilled hare. After consulting with experienced craftsmen, they took up fire crystals and focused hard on the finished product. The air was soon filled with the aroma of grilled hare. The two slices of meat represented their first steps into a larger world. "Delicious," they said in unison. Smiling ear to ear, they partook of their handiwork. To the outside observer, the food was not worthy of note, but to Rukah and Pharis, it was the best meal they'd ever eaten. Encouraged by their first taste of success, they spoke of a sudden desire to continue their studies. "I'm going to be a master chef!" said Rukah with pride. "I want to enter battle strengthened by a meat mithkabob that I made myself," said Pharis as she savored the last bite of her grilled hare. Whatever the skill, mastery requires a great deal of time and practice. But the reward is a taste of the satisfaction and joy known only to those who make the attempt. I wish them only the best as they begin their journey. The next to visit the guild was Tsukito, who has attained the rank of artisan in the guild. When I asked him about his love of cooking, he began by expounding upon the importance of ingredients. Tsukito has spent a great deal of time gathering ingredients since he reached the rank of amateur. With the beastmen growing in power and seizing control of more and more territory, specialty goods have grown scarcer. Sometimes he might be required to travel around the world just to gather ingredients for a single dish. But the thought of people smiling as they enjoy his food keeps Tsukito going. After I finished speaking to Tsukito, I sat down on a bench in front of the guild where other guild members had gathered to chat. Gallve was a very imaginative person who talked about his own original recipes. Listening intently beside him was Nats, smacking her lips at the thought of a tasty treat that she has yet to see. Evityu employed his cooking skills solely to make bait for his fishing hobby. Before going after big game, he catches several small fry and cuts them into appetizing morsels to lure the larger fish. Foxtail also started out just making bait, but he later came to the Culinarians' Guild to try making food for himself. "I also make a mean deep-fried Tarutaru," joked Gagman, to peals of laughter from the gathered crowd. As a Galka black mage, Gagman says that juice is an absolute necessity for him. Seeing such a large cook reminded me of my own father's rather unrefined cooking. The guild members chatted deep into the night about efficient use of materials, cooking haute cuisine, and where to find rare ingredients. Hearing this, a Tarutaru named Poto whispered to himself, "Now I want to give cooking a try." The guildsmen gave him a warm welcome. That night, even the plainest of foods looked somehow better than anything I had ever eaten. Perhaps that is because I have started to appreciate the subtle flavorings of "dreams" and "devotion." Contributor : Myhal / Gilgamesh

Now, everyone here knows my stance on crafting (hint: assfuck). But Culinarian was actually my most leveled craft. I did it for the (incoming pun) sole purpose of crafting sushi. 

That is, until everyone got that exact same idea and a stack of sole sushi went from 20k to 2k overnight.

At least I have this handy chef's knife to stab myself.

My first morning in Sarutabaruta was surprisingly cold. Awakened by the chill in the air, I wrapped myself in my threadbare cloak and decided to take a walk along the Zanbibi River. Looking down into the river's clear waters, I could see the occasional fish swim by. I had lost myself in a childlike daze as I watched them slip in and out of view when I was startled by a nearby moan. My heart nearly leaped out of my throat, stifling a shout of terror into a mere croak. Looking around in a panic, I found an Elvaan woman lying in the grass at my feet. Her face was pale, but I could detect no obvious wounds. "What's wrong? Hang in there." I heard a voice work its way out of a dry throat, saying, "Water... water..." She stretched an arm out toward the river. I lifted her up and helped her to the river's edge. She was like a doll, her body drained of all strength. Crawling up to the water like an infant, she plunged her face into the river. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds passed without her making the slightest movement. Worried, I tapped her shoulder to see if she was still alive. Only then did she raise her head again. "I feel a great deal better now. I'm afraid I overindulged last night." So it was nothing. She had simply had too much fun the night before. I sat back, exhausted. She said to me: "Since I have already received the benefits of your kindness once, I wonder if it might not be too much to ask for a second favor. I have heard that there is, in the region of Norvallen, an Elvaan graveyard. Might you be so kind as to inform me how to find that place?" Her eyes were suddenly sharp, as though she had become another person. I figured she was referring to the Eldieme Necropolis in the Coveffe Barrows. I marked the route on her map and gave her as much detail as I could, noting shortcuts as well as places that were likely to be hazardous. "Perhaps you already know this, but that graveyard is dangerous." "I am going solely to look; I have no intention of spending any significant length of time there, so I foresee no problems. Still, I do appreciate your worry about the welfare of one unknown to you," she replied, running her fingers through her wet hair. "I would like to look upon my father's final resting place just one time, with my own eyes. I have sailed all the way from the southern islands to do so." An Elvaan old enough to be her father? Buried there? That could only mean one thing. "I don't mean to pry, but did your father die in the Great War twenty years ago?" I ventured. Her hands, reaching for her belongings, froze. "Yes, he did," she said. Just as I had suspected. I stopped myself from saying anything more. "I feel it is safe to assume that you also have heard the stories of the small country to the west--one which saw its end with the close of the Great War. My family served the marquis that ruled it." I said nothing, and she continued. "My dear mother fled with me to the southern islands when I was but mere days out of the womb. There she waited for my father, but he perished in the climax of the Great War. History has it that he offered up his life to protect his liege and prove his loyalty to the last..." She paused. "Pardon me. I fear I have been dominating the conversation. I beg your forgiveness." "No, no, that's quite all right. I was just thinking how good it is to meet a fellow countryman." She looked up at me and blinked. As morning drew on into afternoon, the sky began turned a brilliant blue. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky like a herd of sheep, eventually vanishing over the horizon. We sat by the river and talked of our long lost homeland. "There was a river alongside my house. When the weather was clear like this, my brother and I would often go out there to play," I told her. I spoke of my father and brother, with whom I had long been out of contact. It was the first time I had ever volunteered information about my past to anyone. "What was the river like?" she asked. She explained that her mother preferred not to discuss the past, so she had grown up knowing almost nothing of her homeland. Even the smallest details were of interest to her. "It was far bigger than this river," I said. "Of course, maybe it seems that way to me since I was a small child then." She sat hugging her knees, head tilted in my direction, her gaze fixed on the river's surface. "I know nothing of the lands of my home. I cannot even recall the face of my own father. But I have always been proud of my birthplace, and I have always been proud to be my father's daughter." A dry wind began to blow, sending ripples across river's bright surface. I squinted in the glare. She paused and asked, "Say, have you ever been to the island of Elshimo?" "No. I've only heard about it." "My mother and I reside in the port city of Norg. They say Norg is home to numerous people who escaped from our country. You might find a clue about your family there." A flood of emotions welled up within me at those words. My heart began to ache. What if my father and brother were in Norg? No. I shouldn't get my hopes up. For twenty years they have only been dashed. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. We went our separate ways as evening fell, she to the north and I to the south. As we parted, she extended her hand and said, "It has been a pleasure to meet you. I would be greatly like to hear your stories again someday." "Somehow, I have a feeling we'll meet again, though I don't really know where," I replied. "Maybe..." "Back home in Tavnazia!" We shook hands firmly. Her eyes sparkled with all of the strength and beauty of the Tavnazian sunset.

This is an article about Elvaan doing Elvaan things. Probably. It was kinda boring. 

NEXT.

11/13 The rain in the Pashhow Marshlands falls cold. By the time it finally stopped this evening, Leada had already fallen ill. She lay huddled into a ball on the ground, trembling. The cold was closing in around us. Leada warned me, saying "No light fire in swamp. Is bad." But there was nothing else I could do. Leada was right. Soon a Quadav soldier approached with sword drawn. He stomped out the fire and growled as he glared at me. I could not run and leave Leada helpless, so I grabbed my wand. At that moment I heard another growl from afar. I spun and saw a second, larger Quadav approaching from the other side of the swamp. I would have been no match for both of them. But the first Quadav left when he heard the other growl; I had the impression he did not wish to deal with the newcomer any more than necessary. The tall Quadav approached us and spoke to Leada in the Quadav tongue. I did not understand what they were saying, so I was stunned when he lifted Leada over his shoulder. I prepared to attack, but Leada stopped me. "Is OK. Josea, follow. Is OK." I followed the large beastman, who Leada said was called Topaz. We reached the underground Quadav city of Beadeaux before sunset. We passed a machine like a large windmill and many dwellings made of metal as we were shown to our room. It is clear to me that the Quadav are far ahead of other beastmen in the ways of working metal. Once we were alone Leada rested on the metal table where the Quadav had set her and explained to me what was happening. She told me that Topaz is a Quadav priest. Apparently he will treat Leada's fever and we are considered his guests. Goddess, I beseech you to bestow your blessings upon that beastman. 11/14 It seems that Leada has not yet told Topaz that I am a missionary. He brought us breakfast and bombarded me with questions. Leada was still unwell, so she interpreted from her makeshift bed. Are my parents still alive? Grandparents? Are my ancestors the subject of legend? Do I carry my family tree with me? When I finished answering, he looked at me and said "Poor shell-less child." When I asked him what this meant, he related to me an ancient Quadav legend. In the beginning, two giants emerged from the sea of flame. They were Gu'Dha and Do'Nhu. Gu'Dha pressed the flame into earth with his feet while his scales fell and became trees and beasts. Do'Nhu laid countless eggs and her tears formed the oceans and rivers. Many Qua'dav were born from those eggs. But the eggs also yielded people and other beastmen. That was because Do'Nhu loved Gu'Dha's creatures too much. Gu'dha did not blame Do'Nhu for this, and instead promised to care for all of her children. But he would not allow any but the Qua'dav, who resembled him, to wear shells. Hearing this shocked me. This legend was, of course, a fallacy. But for beastmen, who were created to fight people, to realize that we can live as brothers... The legend continued. Do'Nhu raised the shell-less children together with the Qua'dav. But the shell-less children were unhappy. One day they killed the Qua'dav in their sleep and stole their shells. Do'Nhu's grief transformed her into a swamp. Gu'Dha burrowed into the earth in grief and rage, leaving behind only the words "I shall return, someday, as darkness." I decided against contradicting the legend, in the hope that we might one day grow to understand each other. He says he will be back to visit us tomorrow and the next day. I will show him the light of Altana then. Goddess, bestow your love upon the shelled ones. 11/15 Beadeaux has been ringing with shouts of "The Adamantking has returned!" Topaz told us that Za'Dha the Adamantking was leading the Royal Guard home from victory against the Orcs. Topaz urged us to leave. He had led us into the city against the protests of his comrades by saying, "One should not fight people when the Adamantking is away." Now that the king had returned, Topaz's words carried no force. Leada began to gather her belongings as soon as she finished interpreting. If this was her decision, it must be right. I decided to leave Beadeaux. "If the Adamantking is Gu'Dha returned to us, the world shall fall into darkness. Unshelled brothers, have you awakened to the blessings of Do'Nhu?" asked Topaz as he showed us out. His words sounded like prophecy, but I could not divine their meaning. I feel that something awful is coming. What it is, and from where it comes, I do not know. Chills run down my spine. Leada is back to her old self, beside me and singing off-key. Perhaps she is just trying to distract me as I write.   Rich man, rich man   Scattering gold in the streets   If I could have just a copper piece   What it means, what it can buy   I don't understand   I don't know why In any case, I should send word back to the Cathedral. Goddess, shield our mother world from the darkness of Gu'Dha.

Hey, look who it is. Our lovable level retard white mage Elvaan.

Whichever genius saw it fit to dub this walking Raise /shout a missionary should be fired in actual fire.

This is why we can't have peace with the Quadav. They don't take us seriously with this guy fainting every time he trips over a rock.

That, and the fact I happily murder Quadav babies. Shell or no, they all must die.

Hello. This is Professor Emanritan again. How are you? Are you adventurers out there participating in the Conquest? Huh? You're spending all your time making things at the guild? That's good, too. Today's lesson on names will be our last lesson. What a pity! Our final article, then, will be on the names of the Tarutaru and the Mithra that they share Windurst with. I myself am from Windurst.... Surrounded by nature and with such clear air! What a wonderful place. Though it has suffered some awful wars, with the help of Tarutaru magic and the cooperation of the Mithra, Windurst is recovering. Even now, the city is a beautiful center of education and development that any country would be proud to call its own. Doesn't that sound nice? Let's start with Tarutaru male names: "Aram-Param," "Baren-Moren," and of course we can't forget "Emanritan." As you have noticed, the last part of a Tarutaru man's name rhymes with the first. It has been said that this is how ancient spells of the Tarutaru worked. By the way, my name has no relation to any spells. My parents told me that they gave me a name that fit the moment. They wouldn't tell me any more about it... Back to the subject at hand, let's have a look at Tarutaru female names. I think that "Finene," "Chomomo," and "Kerutoto" are all good examples. As you can see from the examples of "nene," "toto," and "momo," the last two syllables of the name are the same. This syllable is not just assigned randomly. Surprisingly, the names are based on the orientation of the child in relation to the famous Star Tree at the time of birth. All rather mystical, don't you think? This ancient practice shows how much the Tarutaru have come to revere the Star Tree. Perhaps this changes the way you see the Tarutaru. While I'd love to continue talking about the Tarutaru, I think it's time to move on to our final subject, the names of the Mithra. The Mithra are a very clever race, making them excellent hunters. But what are their names like? Examples include "An Shanaa," "Hanaa Punaa," and "Fo Mocorho." Because Mithra are called by their first and last names, their names tend to be slightly longer than those of the Tarutaru. While out hunting, they call each other by only the first part of the name, "An," "Hanaa," and "Fo" would be used in the examples given. In fact, they seem to do this whenever they are closing in on something or in a tense situation. One might surmise that, if their names were as long and elegant as those of Elvaan men, they'd bite their tongues and whatever they were chasing would slip away. But I wouldn't go so far as to say that for fear of offending my Elvaan friends. Well, I'm afraid that's all. I hate to finish so soon, but this is the end of the series. Until we meet again, stay well!

Yet another article that completely forgets people like to name their characters "xCloudx" and "Sluttycat". 

Back stories to race-based names are fine and dandy, but when you see fifty bastardizations of Sephiroth running around, you start to lose faith in whatever humanity actually remains.

That's it for issue 20. Tune in whenever when I whatever with something.