T w e n t y S i d e d

In the morning, Larsa is waiting to travel with us to Bur-Omisace. He mentions running off from his escort, so yes, it seems he really is sneaking out windows at night to engage in this skullduggery. There’s probably a crowd of Judges getting their shit wrecked in Zertinan Caverns, where he purposely led them to get eaten by skulwyrms. Ashe is willing to travel there with him, but says she hasn’t quite made up her mind yet about what to do once there; it will take some convincing along the way to set her on one path or the other.Not the last time this will be the premise of our journeys. But Larsa has an ace up his sleeve, and tantalizes the princess— and the player— by revealing another reason he wanted her to come to Bur-Omisace: to meet someone, “both friend and enemy,” but he coyly refuses to say anymore until they get there.

Well, successful troll is successful, and half the party goes traipsing back to Ozmone at his well-shod heels. Meanwhile, Basch hangs back with Han and Chewie. Basch points out that Mount Bur-Omisace is in the Jagd Ramooda, and thus they have nothing to fear from Imperial air power once there.

Balthier grabs him by his fool shoulders and screams, “What the fuck do Dalmascans have against paying some goddamn attention?!” And, shaking him like an idiot child, adds, “Do you not remember last week? When exactly what you just said totally fucking happened? To us? THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE DIED!”

Fran, as always, merely stands wordlessly by, likely offended someone else would try to deal exposition or geography trivia to her, while her keen viera senses are ruffled by the shifting of a fate now viciously tempted.

Continue reading ⟩⟩ “A Travelog of Ivalice, Part 9: Jungle Fever”

The Rocketeer —PLEASE—STAND—BY—

The sun-scorched Giza Plain has entered its rainy season, transforming it for a time into a swampy network of rushing wadis. Just beyond it lies the Ozmone Plain, a rather pretty area dotted here and there by derelict airships from a battle long, long ago. Both areas can be jogged through easily and nothing of import occurs therein; Jahara, settlement of the garif, lies upon the western edge of Ozmone.

However, the game opens up a great deal at this point, and canny players can test their mettle against areas they really aren’t supposed to be in to grab tons of equipment they’re not supposed to have. So it was that by the time I had crossed the two small areas between Rabanastre and Jahara, I had packed on over a dozen levels and adorned myself with some very high-tier equipment. But the greatest allure of these areas is the severed limbs of greasy monsters.

See, as in most RPG’s, the player can always go spelunking in some haunted ruin and rummage through random hope chests and clay pots inexplicably containing plate armor and magic staves of calamitous power, but FFXII has something else up its sleeve, too: the bazaar.

Allow me a tangent here. Er, again. Just.. just go with it.

Continue reading ⟩⟩ “A Travelog of Ivalice, Part 8: It Would Be So Nice”

The Rocketeer —PLEASE—STAND—BY—