“I’m becoming less human…” —Vincent Valentine, FINAL FANTASY VII
Heroes in the worlds of Final Fantasy can be both human and more than human. Over the course of many games, the mantle of world-saviour has variously fallen on the shoulders of rat-girls, cat-robots, feral Yeti, lion-men, moon-people and creatures too strange to describe in just a handful of words. Accordingly diverse are the options available to FFRPG characters. Over the next few pages, players will find a representative, if by no means complete sampling of the races and species which populate the Final Fantasy universe. Others, like the aquatic Hypello or the enigmatic Gurgans, have been left for future works to cover. GMs interested in adding more races to their games can find concrete advice for doing so in Chapter 10.
For reference’s sake, the following table recaps the Racial Maximums first presented in Chapter 2. More details on Maximums and their effect on character creation and advancement can be found there.
|Table 3-1: Racial Maximums|
Also known as Humes. On any given world, Humans will inevitably be the dominant race; wildly diverse and infinitely tenacious, their ability to make a home in even the most inhospitable of environments has made them the standard against which all other races are measured.
Representatives: Firionel (FFII_), Luneth (FFIII_), Kain Highwind (FFIV_), Bartz Klauser (FFV_), Setzer Gabbiani (FFVI_), Tifa Lockheart (FFVII_), Zell Dincht (FFVIII), Beatrix (FFIX), Auron (FFX), Basch fon Ronsenberg (FFXII)
Typical Height: 1.6–1.8m (Male) / 1.5–1.7m (Female)
Typical Weight: 80–97kg (Male) / 73–94kg (Female)
Hair Colors: Blond, black, brown, red, white
Eye Colors: Green, brown, blue
Lifespan: 60–80 years
- Young: 6–10 years
- Average: 18–25 years
- Old: 60–70 years
As it develops, Human society inevitably gravitates towards government of the masses headed by a single leader. In primitive societies, this may be a village headman, high priest or king; in more advanced circles, a President or Prime Minister. As a result, the character of a society tends to reflect in its leadership; an altruistic king begets a benevolent populace, whereas power-hungry emperors typically breed a harsh and militaristic one.
Stratification is a common feature of human civilization, pitting rich against poor, believers against non-believers, aristocracy against peasantry, education against ignorance. This often leads to deep and powerful inequalities; ‘class’ can be as much of a identifying and motivating factor as a spark for conflict.
Human personalities are largely shaped by upbringing and social backgrounds, and can be as varied and complex as the cultures that spawned them. Background, too, affects choice of profession; characters from rough-and-tumble surroundings may turn to the sword—or a life of crime—to make ends meet, while those with wealth and education seek out loftier callings. Interaction between different social strata can be fraught with tension; for rich sophisticates, the lower classes are ignorant boors, while the poor view the wealthy as arrogant and utterly detached from reality.
Most Humans speak Common Tongue as a first language, with regional accents ranging from the mild to the incomprehensible; a trained ear can often pick out a speaker’s nationality and education with only a handful of sentences. Name-wise, Humans are a fantastically varied lot; though culture is assumed to play a significant role in name selection, most *Final Fantasy *characters draw on a predictable, relatively limited set of real-world cultures. Traditionally, English is the most common choice; no matter how mundane they may look to native speakers, British- and American-influenced names like Locke Cole, Cecil Harvey. or Barret Wallace hold a certain exotic appeal to the Japanese. ‘Look’ and ‘sound’ of words are both important considerations, as is the ability to reflect the character’s personality. Sometimes, this results in names like Squall Leonhart, Cloud Strife, or Ashley Riot, combinations that native English speakers would perceive as bizarre, if not outright nonsensical.
Classical references—as found in names like Beowulf Kadmus or Edgar Figaro—are another fertile source of material. Beyond English, languages such as German, French and to a lesser extent, Italian, are also popular fodder for heroes. Examples of the latter can be found in series names like Seifer Almasy, Bartz Klauser, Ritz Malheur, Adelbert Steiner, and LeBlanc. Oriental names—such as Yang Fang Leiden and Yuffie Kisaragi—are also a possibility for cultures specifically modeled after China or Japan.
Invented or ‘pure’ fantasy names in the series are short and to the point, as is the case with Vaan, Galuf, Refia, or Selphie. The more elaborate names generally associated with the fantasy genre in the West—such as Mesdoram Elmdor or Draksmald Goltana—are employed sparingly in Final Fantasy games.
A gruff, athletic lizardfolk renowned for its temperament. Bangaa are burly, muscular creatures caught in a permanent stoop; hard scales cover their bodies, while their snouts are jammed with razor-sharp teeth capable of rending and tearing with terrible ease. Though they may seem ponderous, Bangaa are surprisingly nimble, and can muster short bursts of speed where needed. Despite their reptilian ancestry, Bangaa tend to grow ‘whiskers’ or facial hair as they age; females have a prominent ruff of downy fur that covers their chests, the only significant difference between the two genders.
Bangaa are excellent scouts and trackers, favoring smell and hearing over sight. As a result, it is not uncommon to see Bangaa wearing blindfolds as a fashion statement. Their long, loose-hanging ears are split in two, giving them superior directional hearing; the tips are often pierced or encased in metal. Tattoos are another common decorative device, particularly among younger Bangaa; these are generally drawn on the shoulders or under the eyes.
Despite their longevity, low breeding rates mean that Bangaa population size remains relatively static. Four distinct sub-species of Bangaa exist: the sharp-snouted, long-eared Sanga and Bista—colored gray-black and ochre respectively—and the blunt-snouted, short-eared Faas and Ruga, colored green and sand-brown. However, interbreeding has created a plethora of hybrids over the centuries whose skin colors can range from white to deep blue.
Representatives: Ba’Gamnan (FFXII)
Height: 1.6–1.9m (Male/Female)
Weight: 90–110kg (Male/Female)
Skin Colors: Gray-black, ochre, sand-brown, green, blue, white
Eye Colors: Black, blue
Habitats: Mountains, Deserts, Cities
Lifespan: 100–120 years
- Young: 10–20 years
- Average: 30–60 years
- Old: 80–100 years
Since ancient times, Bangaa have believed that an individual’s species determines temperament and suitability for certain professions, giving rise to a rigid caste system. Traditionally, the sand-brown Ruga have acted as hereditary priests, lawmakers and leaders while the tough-scaled Faas—whose name literally translates to ‘warrior’ in the Bangaa tongue—served as their fighters and enforcers. The Sanga occupied the next tier; theirs were the mundane occupations of farmer, worker and craftsman, the glue that kept Bangaa society bound together. The lowest of the low were Bista merchant caste, tolerated for their importance in a functioning society, but despised for drawing their profits from the work of others while contributing little of meaning in return.
At one point in time, these castes were absolute; once born into a profession, it was impossible to leave it without abandoning Bangaa society altogether. However, the difficulty of integrating hybrid species and the influence of other races have done much to break down the old caste lines in recent years. Though more conservative Bangaa, particularly the Ruga, follow the traditions to the letter, most adopt a more relaxed attitude; even those whose professions follow their caste generally don’t begrudge their children for wanting to diversify.
While the Bangaa associate with almost all other races, they tend to be most comfortable around humans; the two races share a significant amount in terms of temperaments, attitudes, and cultural development. Prized for their strength and tough-as-leather constitution, Bangaa living in human circles can easily find employment as soldiers, guards, gladiators, and—in the case of the more dim-witted specimens—brute physical labor.
Bangaa tend to be arrogant and boastful creatures, acting as if in the throes of a permanent ill temper. Though sometimes characterised as slow-witted or primitive, their intelligence is on par with that of humans. Furthermore, they can be extremely spiritual creatures, with a pious edge that may surprise those who think of them as barely-restrained berserkers.
Bangaa in human societies quickly pick up their hosts’ mannerisms and gestures, resulting in body language that occasionally borders on the comical. Due to their vocal structure, Bangaa tend to speak Common Tongue in a slurring or guttural fashion, an impediment that makes it difficult for them to master the often complex incantations required for higher-level magic. As a result, the spells used by Ruga Bishops—the only serious Bangaa spellcasters—are unique ones created specifically to circumvent pronounciation problems.
Though they are distantly related to the Lizardman race, Bangaa hold their relatives’ low intellect and barbarous lifestyle in utter contempt; as a result, only those with a death wish would dare refer to them as ‘lizardman’ within earshot. Unsurprisingly, ‘lizard’ is an even worse insult to them—on par with calling a human ‘monkey,’ though only the fiercest of men could match the violence of a Bangaa’s reaction in this regard.
‘Common’ Bangaa names are composed of two syllables, and tend to have a slightly harsh sound to them. Sample monickers include Rinok, Batahn, Eleono, Mouni, and Burrogh. In some cases, a two-letter honorific may be added before the name, separated by an apostrophe; examples of this include Ba’Gamnan and Va’Kansa. The letter ‘s’ is almost never used in Bangaa naming.
Smaller and slighter than humans, Creimire trace their ancestry back to rats and mice, a fact made readily apparent by their physical appearance; at first glance, an unkind observer would be tempted to dismiss them as vermin who’ve mastered the art of walking upright. Closer inspection reveals a few key differences, however. Creimire teeth are sharp, but lack the elongated incisors so typical of most rodents; their skin is smooth and almost entirely hairless, and tends to be gray or brown in coloration. Though they retain the sensitive snounts of their ancestors, Creimire do not sport whiskers; their ears are large and upraised, giving them a certain rabbit-like air. In combat, they are more likely to rely on their hearing than their relatively weak eyesight, a fact that gives them an edge in dark and confined quarters.
Unusual too are their double-jointed legs and wide feet, both of which are capable of absorbing tremendous kinetic energy; with training, Creimire can leap distances nearly three to four times higher and wider than their human counterparts and survive substantial drops with almost no ill effects.
Representatives: Freya Crescent (FFIX_), Iron-Tail Fratley (_FFIX)
Height: 1.5–1.7m (Male/Female)
Weight: 73–94kg (Male) / 69–88kg (Female)
Hair Colors: Blonde, brown, gray, white, black
Eye Colors: Gray, green, brown
Habitats: Forests, Mountains, Underground
Lifespan: 40–50 years
- Young: 4–6 years
- Average: 14–22 years
- Old: 35–40 years
Creimire are a highly community-oriented race; to them, ties of family, neighborhood and settlement are stronger than iron. Even in larger towns and cities, Creimire will look after a neighbor’s children as if they were their own, with the firm understanding that said neighbor would do the same for them if the roles were reversed. Young Creimire thus grow up with a wide network of ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’, many of whom will continue to support the child in his later years.
The Creimire continue to practice the animistic nature-worship of their ancestors, the adherents of which fall into three groups. Seniormost are the seers and oracles, who are trained to recognize the flow of the future in the movement of clouds and sand, in the cycle of the moon and sun, in the health and sickness of the land. Long periods of training are required to even divine from one such natural phenomenon; as a result, seership tends to be fiercely specialized, and oracles stake out a claim to a given area of divination relatively early in their careers. By tradition, the only ones allowed to infringe on this ‘territory’ are the oracle’s chosen successors, and then only for the duration of their training; should the oracle die without appointing someone to replace them, the eldest seer assumes control of their duties.
The second, and largest body of practitioners is the Creimire priesthood. Compared to the seers, the priest’s lot is far more mundane, largely revolving around mediating community disputes and advising kings and leaders in times of strife. Priests also serve as historians and cultural guardians; Creimire keep little in the way of written history, but have a long and proud oral tradition maintained primarily by the priesthood. It is the priest’s role to offer the community a link to the deeds of its ancestors; for this reason, they are subject of significant veneration.
The third group is the one encountered most frequently in day-to-day Creimire life: bards and dancers. Much of the importance Creimire culture places on dance and song can be traced back to ancient religious rituals in praise of sun and nature, many of which were carefully preserved by the Creimire priesthood. Over the generations, many new dances have been derived from the old ones, reworking the magic that empowered circle ceremonies and solstice celebrations into the demands and occasions of everyday life. At births, such rituals ensure the newborn a healthy and prosperous life; at wakes and funerals, a safe passage into the next world. Even purely social dancing—also derived from these rituals, though lacking their occult potency—is an important cement for Creimire relationships; such events, usually undertaken to the accompaniment of pipes or harp, form the highlight of almost any social calendar.
As might be expected, the three-tiered religious system creates a delicate interdependency that has all parties working together for the community’s benefit. The start of the sowing season sees Sky Oracles search the clouds for future signs of rain and drought whilst Earth Oracles monitor the fertility of the soil. Once the days of planting have been established, elaborate displays of song and dance aim to ensure a healthy, rich crop in the coming months. Similar group efforts mark the harvest season and oncoming winter.
While generally friendly, common Creimire tend to be forthright and action-oriented, a fact that gives them a reputation as impulsive, pugilistic creatures amongst other races. They have little patience for subterfuge and double-talk, speaking their mind with scant regard to the consequences. What’s more, they rarely back down from a challenge even if the odds are stacked against them—as a result, competitions and games of skill are a particular draw. Priests and oracles tend to be more aloof; in the case of priests, the air of indifference reflects their role in the Creimire community; the trained and absolute neutrality expected of a reliable arbiter and lawmaker.
“Rat-face… After I finish my drink, I’m going to kick your butt.” —Freya Crescent, FINAL FANTASY IX
Those who can avoid the social pitfalls find the Creimire to be an accommodating and gregarious race; hospitality, particularly towards strangers, is considered to be of the utmost importance. While committed as fighters, more relaxed times show the Creimire as fun-loving, social and wryly humorous creatures, fitting readily into almost any adventuring group.
Smell plays an important role in social interaction; to a Creimire, a person’s odor sends as many messages as their appearance, if not moreso. Although no longer capable of producing the potent and complex chemical signals of their animal ancestors, many Creimire use perfumes and colognes to accomplish the same purpose. Creimire speak Common Tongue with a mild accent; names tend to lean towards traditional English and Gaelic—examples include Shannon, Donnegan and Kildea for females and Dan, Gray and Kal for males.
No knows for certain how long ago the Dwarves descended to the underground, but generations bathed in the sickly glow of magma, skirmishing against tunneling predators, and braving the hazards of gas pockets, tremors, and cave-ins have produced a race perfectly suited to the challenges of their adopted home. A Dwarf’s body isn’t so much small as compact, a stout, hairy package of muscle whose size belies unusual strength and toughness. Their eyes are golden and luminous and their skins dark as coal, blending easily with the gloom of a cave or tunnel.
While the majority of the Dwarven race lives and works underground, surface-dwelling Dwarves do exist. These rare tribes of outcasts and rebels subsist largely on agriculture and strip-mining, grouping into small villages run by human-like councils in direct defiance of Dwarven tradition. Though physically similar to their subterranean brethren, the gradual readjustment to sunlight and open areas has given rise to an ungainly, olive-skinned race regarded as ‘untouchable’ by true Dwarves.
A third group are the ‘sub-surface’ Dwarves that live in natural caves and caverns connected to the surface. Regular exposure to sunlight prevents them from developing the dark skin of their deep-dwelling cousins, though their culture is much the same; physically, they resemble smaller, stouter humans with sharp, pronounced noses.
Representatives: Nerrick (FFI_), King Giott (_FFIV)
Height: 1.2–1.4m (Male) / 1.1–1.3m (Female)
Weight: 71–80kg (Male) / 55–60kg (Female)
Hair Colors: Brown, blond, gray, white
Eye Colors: Golden
Habitats: Mountains, Hills, Underground
Lifespan: 70–90 years
- Young – 10–15 years
- Average: 25–40 years
- Old: 70–80 years
Dwarves tunnel almost compulsively, driven by population pressure, precious ore, or simple curiosity to expand their caverns time and again. Even on his own, a single Dwarf can easily burrow for miles at a time; given enough time, Dwarven excavations will honeycomb entire worlds. Many Dwarven cities began life as outposts of a larger kingdom but splintered into self-sufficient settlements through time, distance, or natural disaster; generations of isolation turned them into extended families united by blood, a fact that accounts for the close-knit nature of Dwarven society.
Dwarven clans can number anywhere between five to several hundred; most make their living through the mining and refining of ore, trading with other Dwarves and surface-dwelling races to obtain needed supplies. As a result, many clans are devoted to a single craft like mining, smelting, tanning, or engineering. Nearly every member of the clan has a niche to fill, beginning training as early as childhood; most learn their craft from an older, more experienced relative, and are expected to follow their profession for the remainder of their lives. Surprisingly few Dwarves actively resent this; the vast majority desires nothing more from life than to pursue their trades, honing them with the ultimate intention of passing on their knowledge to the next generation of craftsmen.
Within each clan-family, seniority is the prevailing law; the eldest Dwarves determine how resources are allocated, where tunnels are dug, which clan-members are apprenticed to the family’s craftsmen and warriors. Only the largest clans have a formal King, usually chosen from the elder members of influential families and strengthened in influence through strategic intermarriage. This rule-by-kinship approach may explain why Dwarves have no formal law enforcement—to them, crime and punishment are a family affair rather than a governmental one. Even then, Dwarven criminals are rare. Those who commit a crime are expected to turn themselves or voluntarily choose exile; all but the rarest do. In other societies, this would be a surefire recipe for anarchy, but the Dwarven psyche is so steeped in the virtues of honor and duty that rebellion is almost unheard of.
“Rally-ho!” —Dwarven Villager, FINAL FANTASY IX
Seeded as it is with superior metalworkers and fighters, the Dwarven population is capable of mustering powerful, well-equipped armies if the situation demands it. In many ways, the army acts as a release valve for the rigid Dwarven society, absorbing malcontents that can’t be placed within the traditional craft-caste system. Though respectable in hand-to-hand combat, Dwarves prefer the use of explosives and machinery, and readily employ both in large-scale conflicts.
Dwarven culture breeds stoic, reliable individuals willing and able to endure any amount of hardship. While they are fiercely loyal to their families and elders, Dwarves generally welcome outsiders and make personable companions for any adventuring group.
Dwarves readily speak Common Tongue, though their isolation from the outside world means that many clans are not quite up to speed with the latest linguistic developments. The result is a a thickly-accented, highly archaic variation of Common Tongue called Brogue. Though anyone versed in Common Tongue is capable of communicating with a Dwarf, the idiosyncratic vocabulary and pronunciations of Brogue often throw a spanner into the conversation.
‘True’ Dwarves have excellent dark-vision, resistance to extreme temperatures and a keen awareness of potential hazards. However, they have little experience with the surface world, and will suffer a period of disorientation once they venture above ground for the first time. In most cases, this manifests itself as a mild agoraphobia and clears within a matter of days. Only in rare cases does the shock of the transition cause lasting damage.
The largest handicap for ‘true’ Dwarves is their poor tolerance towards daylight; most resort to protective eyewear to overcome the inevitably blinding effects of the sun. Surface- and sub-surface dwelling Dwarves generally have several generations’ worth of exposure and suffer no such problems. Water, however, is a universal hazard; due to their physiology and dense bodies, Dwarves have tremendous difficulty swimming.
Dwarven names tend towards the classical English, with clan names replacing surnames. Each clan-family adopts its name from its primary area of trade or family profession, giving rise to monikers like David Heavenguard, Matthew Watchman, Derrick Stonehammer, Darcy Skywatcher and Jinkus Emptybottle.
Known as the Elvaan in their own language, these tough humanoids are an old and dying race; on many worlds, Elves are already extinct, leaving only a legacy of finely-crafted artifacts and fairy tales. Yet it is the Elves themselves that bear the ultimate responsibility for this tragedy, for the fierce arrogance and natural ennui, the bitter civil wars and protracted conflicts with other races that become their downfall in due time.
Though they resemble humans, Elves are taller and more robust, with long necks and oval faces. Their skins are darker than the average human’s, ranging from light tan to a bronze or copper color. Their best-known features, however, are their pointed ears, which protrude from their heads at lengths between fifteen and twenty centimeters.
Representatives: Astos (FFI_), King Destin (_FFXI)
Height: 1.8–2.1m (Male) / 1.7–2.0m (Female)
Weight: 80–97kg (Male) / 71–80kg (Female)
Hair Colors: Blond, black, gray, red
Eye Colors: Gray, green, brown
Lifespan: 100–120 years
- Young: 12–18 years
- Average: 28–40 years
- Old: 80–100 years
Elven civilisation is highly developed, yet regimented to extremes—a draconian perfection achieved centuries ago, and perpetuated ever since. For its citizens, lawfulness, order, and obedience to the state are the cardinal virtues; to this end, most Elven nations sport an extensive army as well as a well-staffed civil police force. Both of these depend heavily on levies, with all able-bodied Elven citizens receiving at least some level of training in arms; should the time come for an Elven nation to march to war, the line is held not by the knights of the royal families, but by the citizens’ militias.
Leadership within Elven society is shared by aristocracy and priesthood in a complicated arrangement of mutual benefits. Prodigious Elven lifespans mean that rulers’ reigns can stretch fifty years or more, leaving eligible regents and heirs with plenty of time to engage in courtly intrigue over the succession. In most cases, these squabbles are invisible to the general population, but when the participants choose to fight with weapons instead of words, civil war is almost inevitable. Though the king theoretically derives his divine right to rule from his ancestry, frequent in-fighting among the aristocracy means that rulership typically falls to whoever can get the clergy on their side after the dust has settled.
This deep-seated instability—coupled with the dangers of the world at large—has contributed significantly to the Elves’ mastery of warfare. It was the Elves who first turned their attention to the defensive properties of mythril, who realised the deadly potential of a composite bow in the hands of a seasoned archer and married these insights with potent magic to create a series of powerful relics and accessories. As a result of this, Elves have a legendary reputation as craftsmen; equipment of Elven manufacture is both prized and sought-after, and—in the right hands—may outlast its creators by centuries. Elves were also among the first to domesticate the Chocobo riding-bird, and can field exceptional cavalry in times of crisis.
Special mention must be made of the so-called ‘Dark Elves’, tragic individuals who turn to black magic in pursuit of longevity and, ultimately, the hope of escaping extinction. Adventurers can find Dark Elves lingering in caverns and dungeons centuries after their ‘pure’ brethren have faded into obscurity, stealing magical items and draining their power to further extend grossly-inflated lifespans. However, these creatures are nothing more than mere shadows of their former selves, bodies bloated and corrupted into monstrous forms by the very power sustaining them. Such creatures are anathema to ‘true’ Elves, who will spare no effort in eradicating them if discovered. For this reason, Dark Elves have become unusually adept at disguising their true identities, often covertly operating in the very societies seeking to destroy them.
Pride is at the root of the Elven psyche. From early on, Elves are taught to be proud of their race’s accomplishments, the culture and achievements in warfare that predate other races’ by centuries at a time. As a result, they treat other races with a haughty condescension—one that turns to out-and-out fury should that ‘Elven superiority’ ever be challenged. Tellingly, Elves have just as little patience for their own kind; duels over slights and insults—both real and imagined—are a common occurrence in Elven society, and can set the stage for family feuds destined to last for a century or more. Duellists usually favor the ‘honorable’ sword over more modern implements of war; for this reason, Elven swordmasters are both numerous and impeccably skilled.
As the size of the Elven population shrinks, the race’s natural xenophobia becomes even more pronounced; non-Elves are no longer beings to be pitied, but an army of potential enemies waiting for the right moment to strike. Under these circumstances, adventuring Elves become a rarity, sent out into the mistrusted world only on the direst of missions.
Elven names tend to have a distinctively French flavour to them. Male names tend to be longer and more elegant, whereas female Elves have shorter, more robust names. Sample names for males include Guilerme, Excenmille, Rojaireaut, and Faurbellant; female names include Ashene, Lusiane, and Camereine. Names of mythological significance—typically heroes of antiquity and renowned warriors—are popular for both genders; parents hope the child will inherit at least some of their namesake’s strength, courage, and charisma.
The heavyset Galka are consummate craftsmen; despite a brutish outward appearance, they are not stupid by any stretch of the imagination, excelling in mining, metalwork and other matters of engineering. Their physical characteristics are an odd mixture of animal influences; smooth, greenish-gray skin and a rigid, medium-length tail—a counterweight for their top-heavy frames—hint at reptilian ancestry, but their expressive faces are entirely ursine. Unlike most other races, Galka have no gender, though their outward appearance and manner is distinctively male. Many cultivate lavish facial hair in their later years, often styling it in a wide range of outlandish shapes.
Representatives: Raogrimm (FFXI_), Invincible Shield (_FFXI)
Hair Colors: Black, brown, gray, red
Eye Colors: Blue, green, brown
Habitats: Deserts, Cities, Underground
Lifespan: 100–140 years
- Young: 16–20 years
- Average: 30–60 years
- Old: 90–120 years
The Galka may have once had a culture to call their own; if so, it has been lost to history since the race’s glory days, leaving a nomadic people that makes its home in any society willing to accept them. Finding such hosts is rarely difficult; as architects, artisans or simple physical labor, Galka have the potential to easily drive an entire economy. Unfortunately, their generally passive nature has made them a prime target for exploitation by other races; it is not uncommon to see Galka pushed too hard for too little pay and only the barest regard for their well-being.
Though they have a complex spoken tongue, no written Galkan language exists; the passage of history and culture is entrusted to ‘Talekeepers’ who act as a repository of ancestral memory. Outsiders see Talekeepers as shamanistic fossils, spreading their superstitions and fairytales in hushed tones. In truth, however, these wizened Galka are key to a complex process that ensures their race’s continued survival.
Few are aware that the Galka undergo a cycle of reincarnation; the details of this process are nebulous even to the Galka themselves. Though they visibly age and readily succumb to war, disease, or starvation, actual deaths of old age are almost unheard of. Rather, upon reaching a certain age, a Galka simply bids his friends and fellows farewell, giving away what possessions and wealth he acquired over the course of his life, and sets out into the wilderness. The timing of this journey is carefully calculated through consultation with the Talekeeper over a period of several weeks, during which time the leave-taker is invited to speak freely and at length of his life, his insights and achievements in the spirit of closure. Thus unburdened, the Galka goes on his way, keeping only the clothes on his back and the little he needs to keep his strength up on the march.
Though the departing adult is never seen again, in time, a juvenile Galka will arrive to seek the Talekeeper’s counsel, still innocent to the ways of the world and his people. It is the Talekeeper’s responsibility to ensure the newcomer is suitably indoctrinated, to dispense the knowledge he needs to eventually fill his predecessor’s shoes. An elder Galka will be assigned to act as the boy’s ‘father’, providing practical guidance and shelter. As the juvenile grows, he meets with the Talekeeper time and again, gleaning more of his purpose until he is at last a full member of Galkan society. For their part, Talekeepers seem to be possessed of almost unnatural longevity, reliably serving their purpose for generation after generation.
Though sometimes seen as slow-witted or apathetic, Galka are creatures of deep emotion and rigid self-control. From early on, they are taught to bottle up negative feelings such as anger, frustration, and hatred, releasing them only in their final meeting with the Talekeeper. In this manner, Galkan wisdom goes, the race is protected from feelings that could ultimately destroy it. Fighting is seen as an acceptable, albeit temporary outlet for pent-up anger; inevitably, Galka that choose to take up arms are the most troubled of their kind, permanently torn between reason and rage with fear of death as the only mitigating influence.
Death itself is a powerful racial terror; Galka felled by war or disease are forever gone in both body and memory, with no possibility of replacement. Conflict is avoided rather than plunged into head-first; faced with a potentially infinite lifespan, Galka try to adopt a detached world-view, outwaiting and outliving hardships instead of tackling them head-on. To this end, most grievances are simply swallowed and disagreements rarely voiced—a fact that encourages other races to calluously exploit the uncomplaining Galka.
This emotional self-control can have dangerous results, however, as feelings can bubble up in the most unexpected places. Some Galka experience strong romantic stirrings, leading them to form intimate, if ultimately platonic, bonds with other races; they may even marry, although such arrangements are rare. While not strictly taboo in Galkan terms, interracial relationships rarely end happily for either participant, and are generally discouraged on a social level; ‘married’ Galka are usually subject to intense discrimination and harrassment.
When living among other races, Galka rarely use their own tongue; those who speak it tend to do so in a halting, awkward manner. The majority adopt their names from the nicknames and epithets given to them by other races rather than choosing their own, becoming ‘Vicious Eye’, ‘Hound Nose’, or ‘Gold Skull’—often the first act of submission a young Galka undertakes. Only a small portion are named by their adoptive parents in accordance with the old traditions; ‘true’ Galka names are harsh-sounding monickers between one and two syllables in length, and include Khonzon, Belizieg, Zhikkom, and Ghemp.
A hardy race of feline Amazons, natural-born hunters with refined senses and graceful natures. Unlike the Varg or Ronso, Mithra resemble humans with animal characteristics rather than vice versa; their ears, eyes, noses, and tails are cat-like, but their bodies are smooth-skinned and entirely human in proportion.
The Mithra are distinguished as a race by their deeply skewed gender ratio; out of every ten births, only one on average will be male. Centuries of imbalanced breeding have left the females toned and slender, towering over their male counterparts in every respect; both genders dress lightly to combat the heat, preferring bright, colorful fabrics. Face-paint and tattoos, marks of status and accomplishment in Mithra tribes, are common among older females. Even Mithra living in more ‘civilized’ countries use these decorative devices; though their society evolves from day to day, some traditions die hard.
Representatives: Mayoh Comyujah (FFXI)
Height: 1.4–1.6m (Male) / 1.5–1.7m (Female)
Weight: 50–65kg (Male) / 55–75kg (Female)
Hair Colors: White, gray, brown, purple
Eye Colors: Gray, green, brown
Habitats: Jungles, Forests, Coasts
Lifespan: 40–60 years
- Young: 5–7 years
- Average: 14–22 years
- Old: 35–40 years
Mithra come together in small tribes dominated by a matriarchal government, usually in the form of a tribal chieftainness or village wise-woman. The tribe’s day-to-day affairs, too, are entirely in the hands of its females; theirs is the lot of the hunter, the fisher, the crafter, the breadwinner. This structure is a product of simple necessity; due to their scarcity, a tribe’s males are too valuable to expose to the dangers of the world at large, and are generally forbidden from leaving the village.
Though Mithra tribes are typically affable towards one another, conflict over matters of resources, land and even fertile males is not unheard of. While not overtly warlike, Mithra are always prepared for a fight; to this end, each tribe formulates, practices, and refines its own style of martial arts. Unlike typical fighting techniques, these place less emphasis on improving one’s body to meet the requirements of the art and more on unlocking the maximum destructive potential of one’s current state. While unarmed combat is used to some degree, most Mithra fighting styles are built around weapons like knives, spears and staves; this allows even the sick and elderly to put up a respectable fight when the situation demands it. More importantly, practicality outweighs tradition here—these techniques are subject to constant refinement as new weapons are discovered and more effective attacks developed.
This single-minded drive for improvement is not only reserved for fighting, but also serves to make the Mithra skilled craftsmen, navigators and astronomers, ever willing to seek a better way of doing things. Despite this, Mithra tend to be distrustful of advanced technology, particularly anything that involves the use of non-renewable resources; to them, maintaining harmony with nature is more important than fleeting comfort or convenience.
Mithra are natural adventurers, combining natural curiosity and energy with a laid-back, easygoing nature that makes them amenable company on long journeys, though even the most patient companion will eventually find his tolerance tested by the cat-girls’ fondness of practical jokes and mischief. They do, however, have their quirks, most notably in regards to the opposite gender; although adventuring Mithra usually spend a fair deal of time around ‘normal’ gender relationships, they still tend to be protective of their male counterparts in times of danger.
Mithra society is low-key, but not uncultured by any stretch of the imagination; they love games and stories, have an affection for dancing and the theatre, and a deep-seated respect for skilled raconteurs and mimics. Though their feline natures leads some to believe that Mithra hate water, they are excellent, nimble swimmers, and waste no opportunity to demonstrate it.
Due to the relative simplicity of their own language, Mithra tend to need a running start when it comes to learning Common Tongue. Even those who have mastered it frequently end up rolling their ’r’s when speaking. Mithra names tend to have a distinctively Indonesian flavour to them; first names tend to be kept to one or two syllables, allowing the individual’s name to be called quickly in situations where a timely warning can mean the difference between life and death. Examples of ‘typical’ Mithra nomenclature include Kocho Phunakcham, Soun Abralah, Ghosa Demuhzo, and Fyi Chalmwoh. Mithra society also sets great stock in titles; the higher one climbs on the social ladder, the more elaborate, lengthy and arcane their ceremonial address becomes. Such titles are only used inside tribal circles—outsiders are rarely subjected to such staggering displays of self-importance.
Moogles are furry little semi-magical creatures—one-part cat, one part bear cub, a race for which the words ‘disarmingly cute’ are all but tailor-made. Though they sport tiny, bat-like wings, only the smallest and slightest of Moogles can use them for flight; for most, they are nothing more than decoration. Wings aside, the Moogles’ most distinguishing characteristic is the curious ‘pom-pom’ connected to the top of their heads by a small, thin stalk; its true purpose is unknown, though some speculate that it may have magical or telepathic properties.
Moogle fur is generally white and downy, though many mutations and variations exist in the world; striped, brown and purple are among the most common, but many others have arisen over the years. Some Moogles also sport a thick ‘ruff’ of fur around their neck; this feature tends to evolve in colder climates, and is usually accompanied by a correspondingly denser coat of fur.
Representatives: Mog (FFVI_), Montblanc (FFXII_), Hurdy (FFTA2)
Height: 0.9–1.2m (Male / Female)
Weight: 24–30kg (Male / Female)
Fur Colors: White, grey, brown, purple
Pom-Pom Colors: White, green, red, yellow, purple
Habitats: Forests, Mountains, Underground, Cities
Lifespan: 60–80 years
- Young: 6–10 years
- Average: 18–25 years
- Old: 60–70 years
Traditionally, Moogle tribes seclude themselves in small villages hidden away in forests or caverns, subsisting on foraged nuts and roots, their locations known only to those select outsiders who have earned the tribe’s trust. Such groups number anywhere between ten and fifty; the oldest Moogle in the tribe usually acts as a nominal leader, though group consensus guides most decisions.
This bucolic, carefree existence is balanced by a love of travel and adventure. Once they come of age, many Moogles leave the safety of their villages, embarking on journeys that can easily span the breadth of the globe. What happens next depends on the individual. Some find the outside world too chaotic, too confusing for their liking; disenchanted, they return to the stable familiarity of their villages. Others are captivated by the sights and opportunities of their wanderings, and settle down in the company of other races.
“I’m kupo for kupo nuts!” —Moguta, FINAL FANTASY IX
Moogles have an innate genius for social adapability—no matter how alien the society they find themselves in, it is only a matter of time before they learn its ins and outs, picking up all the trappings of civilisation along the way. Given their primitive backgrounds, the degree to which Moogles excel in disciplines like engineering and alchemy once exposed to them is nothing short of miraculous; their latent ability in mechanics is such that other races use a special term—‘Mooglecraft’—to describe their creations. Out of respect for those who have turned their backs on the outside world, however, ‘civilised’ Moogles make no effort to bring the marvels of progress back to their native villages. As a result, every Moogle is given the rights to pursue its own idea of happiness, whether bliss is found in the boughs of an ancient tree or the guts of an airship.
Because Moogles settle according to their personal pilgrimages, these small beings can be found almost anywhere in the world. In spite of their scattered nature, Moogles still manage to maintain a close-knit social network by regularly trading news and gossip from city to city. This world-spanning ‘Mognet’ generates an incredible amount of information—so much so that entire mail services flourish based solely on the correspondence between various Moogles.
The essence of the Moogle race lies in their adapability. Wild-living Moogles survive by wielding a unconscious calming influence, a kind of mild psychic compulsion that keeps wild beasts at bay. Their natural foes are those creatures immune to this power, the most fearsome of which is the aptly-named Moogle Eater. In civilised surroundings, the Moogles’ talent manifests itself in other ways; an intense likeability, an unusual sense of empathy, and natural affability that allows the Moogles to make themselves welcome anywhere.
Though mischievous, sassy, and occasionally sarcastic, Moogles are incapable of genuine malice or cruelty—a rarity among intelligent beings. Base emotions such as hate, greed, and violence are generally unheard of among the ‘primitive’ Mogri, nd extremely uncommon in expatriates. Because of this, Moogles are perhaps a little more trusting of others than is strictly warranted, though ‘trusting’ doesn’t translate to ‘stupid’—they have no patience for cheaters and frauds, and will take steps to get even with anybody who tries to take advantage of their good nature.
Despite the fact that their native tongue uses just a single word, Moogles have a superb aptitude for languages, and many speak Common Tongue. Their only trouble is a tendency to slip in the word ‘kupo’ in at random intervals, a linguistic quirk that even experienced speakers can’t seem to shake. Traditional Moogle names are based on permutations of ‘Mog’ or ‘Kupo.’ Moguta, Kumop, Mogryo, Kupek, Mogrika, and Chimomo are all prime examples of this convention. Expatriate Moogles, on the other hand, adopt monickers more in line with their host society, such as Artemicion, Gurdy, Nono, Pilika, or Horne.
The Nu Mou are an elusive group of hunched, doglike creatures. They are among the longest-lived races, but age early; as they approach adolesence, Nu Mou quickly lose suppleness and muscular flexibility, gradually becoming crooked, stooped adults incapable of moving faster than a shuffle. Bound by these physical limitations, they have become first-rate sages and intellectuals, channeling the energy other races put into honing their bodies into sharpening their minds.
Though they share a single name, there is a significant amount of physical variety among the Nu Mou, to such an extent that some naturalists believe the race encompasses two entirely separate species. The most commonly-encountered Nu Mou are gray- or brown-skinned, with long, floppy ears, elephant-like hides and sunken nostrils on either side of the face. Others are smaller and lighter-skinned, with brown, button-like noses, ears like a beagle’s, and prominent facial hair. Others still mix features of the first two, though there are some physical constants; beyond the hunched bodies, all sub-species share long, heavy tails topped with a layer of coarse fur, small, four-fingered hands and three-toed feet.
Representatives: Ivaness (FFXII_), Ezel Berbier (_FFTA)
Height: 0.8–1.1m (Male/Female)
Weight: 80–90kg (Male/Female)
Hair Colors: White, Blond
Eye Colors: Brown
Habitats: Mountains, Marshes, Plains, Hills, Deserts, Cities
Lifespan: 200–250 years
- Young: 8–18 years
- Average: 50–100 years
- Old: 150–200 years
Nu Mou civilization is based upon education to such an extent that ties of learning are considered more important than even ties of blood. Nu Mou are expected to leave their families at an early age and find an older, more experienced mentor of their own accord, training under his tutelage until they are themselves capable of educating others. These mentors do not necessarily have to be Nu Mou themselves; almost any being of exceptional wisdom and learning can step into this role, provided they are willing to adopt the student as one of their own. Neither will every seeker of knowledge be a Nu Mou, as other races often revere the thick-skinned beings for their depth of knowledge and aptitude as sorcerors.
The relationship between instructor and pupil is expected to be a familial one—the student is given a new name, clothed, fed, sheltered, and cared for as kin, while the teacher is accorded the respect and obedience due any ‘true’ parent. Upon death, the instructor’s estate is divided up among all surviving apprentices; books, scrolls, and other texts are inherited by the seniormost members of the intellectual ‘family,’ with the understanding that they will carry on the studies begun by their former teacher. Most Nu Mou will only train one or two at a time, though the most learned and renowned may have up to a dozen pupils living under their roof.
Because of the significant cost of sustaining an ‘extended family,’ it is not uncommon for older Nu Mou to practice a craft or trade alongside their intellectual pursuits, making a living with alchemy, the appraising of ancient relics, or crafting enchanted items. Others may become magical mercenaries, hiring their services out to adventurers and monster hunters eager for added sorcerous punch on their expeditions. However, the Nu Mou are careful to keep this kind of freelancing within ethical boundaries—profit is ultimately a secondary consideration.
Due to their small population, Nu Mou society rarely extends beyond individual villages and towns. Settlements almost always develop around the dwelling of a single great teacher, accumulating more residents as pupils begin taking on apprentices of their own until a full-fledged community develops. Not every Nu Mou is sedentary; surprisingly many adults take up a wandering lifestyle, embarking on grand odysseys across the world in search of knowledge and guidance. A cynical mind, however, might argue that these nomads have other motivations—just as a rolling stone gathers no moss, a roaming Nu Mou rarely has to worry about well-meaning apprentices begging him to teach them the ins and outs of sagehood.
A Nu Mou’s demeanour is heavily influenced by their teachers. Those taught by other Nu Mou are gentle, almost dispassionate creatures; intellectuals to a fault, they may strike others as distant or impatient. Due to their bodily shortcomings, they have a strong distaste for physical violence, and almost never engage in melee combat. If pressed to defend themselves, they prefer magic or diplomacy, particularly through intellectual bribery. Their enormous wealth of knowledge gives them significant leverage with other races, and they do not shy away from using it if the need arises, though they are careful never to reveal too much at once.
As they grow older, ‘true’ Nu Mou are likely to become more concerned with the ‘big picture.’ Their longevity allows them to bear first-hand witness to how one seemingly innocuous event can affect the course of history, establish a great nation or bring ruin to an entire peoples. For this reason, they may take on the mantle of history’s shepherds, safeguarding ancient artifacts, observing obscure rituals, and intervening—albeit discreetly—in the natural flow of events to ensure that dark powers are not allowed to gain sway. Because of this, their actions and motives often seem inscrutable to other races who lack the Nu Mous’ long-term vision.
Nu Mou taught by Humans or other races, however, tend to adapt their instructors’ demeanour and outlook. Because they begin their education at a young age, it is very possible for a Nu Mou to end up at the mercies of a dark wizard or evil savant who gradually twists the pupil, eventually transforming them into a creature of pure malevolence. As a result of their innately magical natures, it is not unheard of for Nu Mou to transform into demons, though individuals who suffer this fate are usually killed by kinsmen who consider the death an act of mercy.
Nu Mou benefit from strongly developed magical senses, and have the unique ability to clearly see the flowing streams of elemental energy fundamental to all spellcasting. This makes them particularly adept at recognising areas of significant ambient power and identifying magical items and artifacts whose function may not be obvious at first glance.
A Nu Mou’s name is assigned at an early age by a teacher, resulting in a certain diversity in naming. Traditionally, however, Nu Mou names are exactly three syllables in length, with an apostrophe after the first syllable. A limited range of sounds are used in naming, creating monickers that are often indistinguishable from one another; examples include Ma’kenroh, Roh’kenmou, and Ma’kleou.
Bloated, bone-white beings with clownish, button-eyed faces and massive, lolling tongues, the asexual Qu are perhaps one of the strangest races in existence. Omnivores by nature, the Qu have managed to survive in their native swamps by being able to eat just about anything, no matter how repulsive; though their repast of choice is marsh frogs, in a pinch a Qu can content itself with trees, rocks, wild animals, monsters… Despite popular rumors to the contrary, they do, however, stop just short of putting other sentient beings on the menu. Mostly.
As might be expected, their bodies have adapted according to the needs of their environment and lifestyle. Long, muscular tongues ensnare and capture prey, while three separate stomachs—each capable of temporarily expanding to five times its original size—and digestive juices acidic enough to burn a hole through adamantine do the rest of the work.
Representatives: Quina Quen (FFIX_), Master Quale (_FFIX)
Hair Colors: None
Eye Colors: White
Lifespan: 40–60 years
- Young: 7–8 years
- Average: 15–20 years
- Old: 40–50 years
Qu tribes make their homes in isolated marsh enclaves across the world, gathering in numbers ranging from a few dozen to several hundred, all depending on how many ravenous Qu the area is capable of supporting. Qu society is hedonistic to a fault, with few cares beyond eating and procreating—thankfully, the intricacies of Qu reproduction are a closed book to the outside world. As a result, their culture has atrophied to the point where the guiding Qu philosophy can be summed up in one statement: “World only have two things: Things you can eat and things you no can eat.” Social interaction between tribes is limited to monthly exchanges of recipes and ingredients and irregular cook-offs; for the remainder of the year, each tribe lives in isolation, taking care of its own affairs.
Younger Qu are apprenticed to a more experienced Master at an early age, under whose tutelage they are expected to learn the all-important ‘art of eating’—the finding, preparing and consuming of all varieties of foodstuffs. During this time, the apprentice is only permitted to eat what they themselves can catch and cook; in this way, the youngster is encouraged to be self-sufficient rather than perpetually sponge off his elders. Once their knowledge is judged to be sufficient, the apprentices become full-fledged Masters, ready to pass their own culinary skills on to a new generation of Qu. However, this process that can take many years, if not decades; those who fail to pass muster are frequently ostracized from the swamp in the hope that a change of environment—and a little sampling of international cuisine—will spur the errant pupils back on to the right path.
“Must try eating before we give up!” —Quina Quen, FINAL FANTASY IX
Masters, too, may leave the swamp in search of rare delicacies or culinary enlightenment; such ‘odysseys’ are considered part and parcel of a Master’s duties to his art, and serve as a tribe’s main conduit to the outside world. As a result, it is not uncommon to find wandering Qu employed as chefs and cooks, eagerly learning and eating everything a foreign kitchen has to offer.
Because of the importance food plays in Qu culture, the average Qu is a natural gourmand. Qu that join adventuring groups are almost always searching for new tastes and exciting culinary experiences; material wealth is of little importance to a Qu, except where it helps speed the way to culinary enlightenment. Younger Qu will ignore almost any amount of danger if faced with a tasty morsel, although this tends to be drummed out as a pupil advances on the road to masterhood.
There are exceptions: those who reject the ‘art of eating’ in search of a greater truth, choosing exile rather than risk being cast out by their fellows for daring to contemplate that there’s more to life than simply catching things and devouring them. However, these tend to be a minority; the Qu themselves refuse to acknowledge the existence of such ‘perverts’.
Students and masters of the art dress in a chef’s hat and apron to reflect their status, wielding weapons adapted from eating utensils such as forks and knives. They adapt to other environments relatively easily if ever required to travel, though homesickness and longing for those ever-tasty marsh frogs does take its toll. Because the concept of gender does not exist in Qu society, they do not identify themselves as male or female; in adventuring parties, a Qu’s companions may unconsciously assign a male or female identity to it.
Qu tend to have a poor grasp of Common Tongue, particularly as far as grammar is concerned. This, combined with their food fixation, gives them a reputation among other races as somewhat dimwitted creatures. Qu have two names—a first name and a tribal one, both of which begin with ‘Qu’.
The Ronso are a tall, proud race resembling humanoid lions. As magically active as they are physically impressive, their sharp claws and thick, muscular bodies leave little doubt as to their prowess in battle. Males of the species sport flowing manes of hair and often massive beards, as well as a long horn that grows from the forehead. The Ronso cherish this horn as a symbol of manhood, seeing it as the source of a warrior’s powers; its loss is treated as seriously as that of an arm or leg. Dishonored warriors have their horns cut as a matter of custom, though only the most serious crimes provoke such an act. Unsurprisingly, Ronso subject to this ritual ‘castration’ are almost always exiled. Females, though smaller and more compact, are no less aggressive than their male counterparts in battle, and shoulder a substantial share of the fighting and hunting.
Both genders dress sparingly, and even then only for the sake of modesty; jewelry, charms, and bangles, some of which may have occult significance, are a common part of a Ronso’s ensemble. More superstitious warriors also apply ‘magical’ oils to their bodies before battle, believing that this protects them from harm.
Representatives: Kimahri Ronso (FFX)
Height: 2.4–2.6m (Male) / 2.1–2.3m (Female)
Weight: 125–150kg (Male) / 95–115kg (Female)
Hair Colors: Black, grey, brown, red, blond, white
Fur Colors: Blue, tan, sandy-gold, brown
Eye Colors: Yellow, blue, green, brown
Habitats: Mountains, Tundra
Lifespan: 50–70 years
- Young: 5–10 years
- Average: 15–30 years
- Old: 50–60 years
Ronso live in isolated family-tribes called prides, sustaining themselves as hunter-gatherers led by a single elder. They rarely acquire many possessions, keeping only what they need and moving wherever food and opportunity take them. Social standing within the tribe is derived from fighting prowess and physical appearance, and determines an individual’s food-share and breeding rights. To the strong and beautiful go the spoils; a custom other races may find distasteful, but one the Ronso believe is essential to maintaining a tribe’s strength.
Ronso begin their training as hunters at onset of puberty. For males, this event is known as the horn-molt, during which the outer layer of the male’s horn is shed in order to give the larger, harder adult horn room to grow in. Young hunters learn their survival skills by ‘shadowing’ elder members of the pride over a period of several years. Their rite of passage requires them to match their teachers in personal combat, or at least put up a fight respectable enough to assure the elders that they are ready to take on the rigours of the hunt. Challenges like these punctuate a Ronso’s progress within their tribe; those who want leadership must fight hard for it, and fight even harder to retain it.
Ronso too weak to prove themselves in combat are shunned, and may be driven out if other members of the pride feel that the ‘weakling’ is a liability to the pride’s survival. Exceptions are made for the aged, who frequently become advisors and teachers; older Ronso who can no longer defend their power often bow out voluntarily rather than risking the humiliation of being defeated by a younger challenger.
“Pick spot. Shut up. Wait.” —Kimahri Ronso, FINAL FANTASY X
If competition within the pride is fierce, competition between prides is outright brutal. Each tribe lays claim to a tightly-defined territory and defends it to the death; though alliances between tribes are common, these allegiances are ever-shifting, sometimes lasting a little as a single hunt. Marriage between prides is rare, and involves significant competition between the two groups as both try to gauge the strength of their counterparts. Unless the prides are evenly matched, there is little chance that the pairing will be consented; no pride will jeopardise its strength by bringing in blood weaker than its own. In the same vein, altruism is almost unheard of—a tribe that finds itself in trouble neither asks for nor expects assistance from others.
This attitude extends to their religion. The Ronso practice a primitive animist faith that sees the world as one dominated by great and invisible spirits. Such forces are never deliberately courted and feared for their fickle natures; though great warriors inevitably attract these supernatural powers, they rely on them at their own peril. Tribal folklore speaks of days when warriors possessed the ability to communicate with native spirits through their horns; even if such tales are true, this knowledge has long since faded into obscurity.
Due to their harsh upbringings, Ronso place great importance in displays of strength and martial prowess, and go to great lengths to ensure their bodies are honed to the fullest. Adventuring parties who pick up a Ronso member will find them to be dedicated warriors and honorable—if aggressive—combatants, fiercely loyal to their charges and friends. At the same time, they show little patience for weakness or indecisive leadership, and can cause significant friction within the group. Fear of losing face may spur them into taking on more than they can handle; few Ronso will willingly acknowledge their limits, let alone act upon them.
Ronso have a high natural body temperature, allowing them to thrive in colder climates; other races find them unusually warm to the touch, sometimes uncomfortably so. In warmer climates, their prodigious sweat production keeps the lion-men from overheating, creating in a powerful, musky body-odor particularly repellant to creatures sensitive to smell. Ronso horns are innately sensitive towards magical energies, and may tremble or vibrate slightly in the presence of such forces.
Though they can learn to speak Common Tongue, most Ronso will do so in a gruff, clipped manner, wasting as few words as possible. Accordingly, Ronso names are short, rarely exceeding two syllables in length; typical monickers include Biran, Zamzi, Gazna, Argai and Zev. A Ronso’s ‘last name’ is their tribal name, and shared with all other members of their respective pride.
A diminutive race of magically active beings. The Tarutaru—‘Taru’ for short—are characterized by babyish faces, large eyes, pronounced Elfin ears and bear-like features. Their bodily proportions are equivalent to those of human children, with large heads atop a pudgy, short-limbed body, a combination that appears utterly harmless up until the point the fireballs start flying. Some speculate the small creatures’ mastery of magic is a kind of acquired survival trait; lacking the endurance and strength to be serious warriors, they have little else to protect themselves from the dangers of the world. For their part, the Tarutaru call it a mark of divine favor, proof that some higher power is watching out for them.
Representatives: Shantotto (FFXI_), Tosuka-Porika (_FFXI)
Height: 0.8–1.0m (Male / Female)
Weight: 34–38kg (Male) / 32–36kg (Female)
Hair Colors: Brown, blond, red, blue, grey, green
Eye Colors: Brown, blue
Lifespan: 20–40 years
- Young: 4–6 years
- Average: 10–15 years
- Old: 30–35 years
The Tarutaru live in a geniocracy, a society ruled by scientists, sages, thinkers, and other experts on worldy matters. In the eyes of the Taru, what one knows defines everything—prestige, social standing, privileges. Accordingly, competition for wisdom is fierce and those in positions of authority live in constant fear of being usurped by younger, more knowledgeable individuals. This in turn creates enormous pressure to pursue new ideas and innovations, setting up the intellectual ‘engine’ that allows Tarutaru society to progress. While Taru scholars turn their attentions to many subjects, the study of magic is by far the most prestigious; spellcasters are the geniocracy’s first line of defense, revered for their martial prowess and respected for their intellectual accomplishments.
Taru travel mainly for social advancement, lured by the prospect of lost spells, rare alchemical ingredients, or ancient grimoires of legendary power. As competitive as they may be, however, Tarutaru are also firm believers in the mantra ‘strength in numbers’. Tribes often band together into larger federations for protection, surrendering individual sovereignty to a ruling council composed of the wisest members of each tribe. Leader of the council is the member regarded as the most knowledgeable by mutual consensus; this role is generally prized more for its prestige than its attached powers, which are minimal at best. Because of this, tribes actively jockey for the leadership role, recalling and replacing their representatives whenever a more suitable candidate emerges.
As may be expected, magic is an everyday fact of Taru life; it powers mechanical constructs, gives new life to worn-out fields, enhances crops, and even protects tools and clothing from wear and tear. Though somewhat menial compared to the glamor of hurling offensive magics in the name of the Tarutaru nation, many able mages make profitable careers out of these mundane applications. Only metalworking is generally shunned; as a rule, Tarutaru favor organic materials such as wood and cloth, finding such resources far easier to alter with magic than their intractable metallic counterparts. As a result, almost every metal item used by the Taru tends to be the work of outside hands.
Though childlike in body, Tarutaru are highly intelligent beings, albeit ones possessed by an inexhaustible curiosity about anything and everything in life. No self-respecting Taru will miss the chance to obtain new knowledge—or show off the fruits of their studies whenever opportunity allows. Though they make little distinction between the trivial and the life-saving where information is concerned, the little creatures’ intellectual posturing generally comes through when it’s most needed. Parties may also find their patience stretched to the limit by the Tarus’ piping, mousy voices. While fluent in Common Tongue, Tarutaru have the unfortunate tendency to replace single ’t’s with ‘tarus’ and slip into child-like rhyming schemes; the results aren’taru pretty-witty by any stretch of the imagination.
As much as Taru society emphasizes the benefits of mutual cooperation, it’s no surprise that the little creatures go through great lengths to find companions and even greater ones to keep them. While not as outright distrustful of advanced technology as the Mithra, Tarutaru do tend to be wary in the presence of non-magical machinery; to them, grinding gears, steam, and clockwork are ruthless, soul-less things, lacking the innate warmth and vitality of a magic-driven device.
It’s a testament to the race’s long-lived mystic traditions that even Taru names are steeped in occult significance. Male naming pairs similar-sounding words drawn from ancient ritual incantations, giving rise to monikers like Yung-Yaam, Jatan-Paratan, Baren-Moren and Kyume-Romeh. Such names are not only chosen for aesthetic value; the Taru believe that granting a boy a particularly powerful spell-name increases his chances of becoming an accomplished spellcaster in later years. Females have single rather than double names, ending in two rhyming syllables chosen by parents according to the child’s time of birth. These ending syllables are said to be an indicator of future personality and career, and girls born during auspicious times are groomed from early on for high office. Examples of female Taru names include Finene, Chomomo and Kerutoto.
Sometimes mistakenly referred to as ‘Werewolves’, the Varg are lean and powerful wolfmen, a mixture of human and bestial characteristics. Though they walk upright, long tails, lupine heads, and elegant fur leave little doubt as to their origins. In comparison to humans, Varg enjoy enhanced seeing, smell. and hearing; they can clearly recognise objects and movement at far greater distances, though their ability to sense color is significantly weaker.
Like humans, Varg are at home in a wide range of habitats. While most commonly encountered in temperate climates, sub-species of this race can be found roaming sweltering tropical savannas, scraping out a minimal existence on misty moors, or braving arctic conditions. Fur colors and thicknesses vary accordingly, simultaneously serving as insulation and camouflage appropriate to a Varg’s adopted surroundings.
Representatives: Kelger Vlondett (FFV_), Lone Wolf (_FFV, FFVI)
Height: 1.7–2.1m (Male) / 1.5–1.9m (Female)
Weight: 85–120kg (Male) / 60–100kg (Female)
Fur Colors: Grey, tan, brown, white, red, black
Eye Colors: Yellow, green, brown
Habitats: Forests, Hills, Mountains, Grasslands, Tundra, Deserts, Marshes
Lifespan: 50–65 years
- Young: 5–10 years
- Average: 15–25 years
- Old: 40–50 years
Varg are hunters tamed by the slow encroachment of civilisation; where their ancestors fought with tooth and claw, today’s wolfmen place their trust in a stout shield and well-honed sword. The hunting pack still remains the basic building block of Varg society, creating a social unit ranging in size from five to fifty, depending on the environment and available food sources. Packs that forsake the nomad’s life tend to be secretive, building as far from other races as possible; potential homes are chosen as much for their natural resources as defensive properties. Given the choice, Varg gravitate towards geographic features like ravines and caves; buildings are often constructed in suitable cracks and openings to take advantage of the sheltering rock-face. Other habitats require a little more ingenuity; in highlands, hillocks are converted into dwellings, while in swamps and forests large trees serve as the basis for most buildings. Walls, however, are omnipresent, erected out of whatever material may come to hand.
On a social level, packs are tightly knit associations where the good of the community always comes before that of the individual. The entire pack is expected to work together to ensure that every member’s needs are met in full; selfishness is treated as a cardinal sin, and ‘parasites’ quickly expelled into the wild to fend for themselves. Conversely, those who contribute most to the pack enjoy the highest status, a fact that allows larger, stronger males to dominate communal affairs. However, their influence can be fleeting if they fail to keep up their achievements; should their contributions slip, they too risk being cast out by their fellows. Matters of importance to the pack as a whole—such as punishment of individuals or mediation of disputes—are resolved on a communal level, with every pack member of age casting a vote towards a decision.
Varg as a whole are rarely warlike, preferring to settle their disputes through mediation. Direct competition between packs is rare; if two groups of Varg find themselves contesting the same resources, one of the two will cede their claim in exchange for help in relocating to a more suitable area. Packs will, however, take up arms if the situation demands it, using their hunters as a first line of defense.
Though not innately religious, Varg keep close ties to the nature spirits surrounding their homes for personal security, calling on spiritual protection through a variety of crude rituals and dances. These are conducted by pack members that are not yet old or strong enough to hunt, usually under the tutelage of an older, magically gifted supervisor. Other, more animalistic ceremonies accompany births and deaths; funerals in particular can be a chilling affair for outsiders as the pack joins together in a ‘death howl’ audible for miles.
Culturally, the Varg borrow heavily from other races. As craftsmen, the wolfmen are capable, if ultimately mediocre; many of a village’s luxuries and manufactures are likely to originate from outside the pack. Tailoring poses an exception, though other races are unlikely to find much use for the Vargs’ idiosyncratic sense of fashion; due to their underdeveloped color vision, the wolfmen routinely turn out clothing many shades brighter than most races would find comfortable, let alone acceptable. As most colors are imported at great expense, the most flamboyant outfits are reserved for senior members of the pack; when dealing with Varg, adventurer wisdom has it, “look for the one who leaves your eyes watering.”
Adventuring Varg can be neatly divided into two categories: outcasts and everyone else. Those who have been rejected by Varg society at large, usually for ‘anti-pack’ crimes like idleness, theft, or deliberately inflicting bodily harm on another pack member, have little choice but to adopt a nomadic lifestyle. Other packs tend to be innately distrustful of ‘strays’, and only take them into the fold in the rarest of circumstances.
Some outcasts wear their independence like a badge of pride, falling in with those they regard as fellow ‘free spirits’: brigands, criminals, rebels, and everything in between. Others feel genuine regret for their exile, and attempt to reform themselves through deeds of merit and valor. Either of these paths can bring an outcast Varg into contact with an adventuring group, though they can both pose problems for the group; free spirits refuse to do anything that doesn’t serve their own interests, while reformers zealously oppose anything they deem morally dubious or reprehensible.
Traditional Varg are reluctant to set foot outside of their villages, except in large numbers. Their isolation makes them distrustful towards outsiders, if not other races in general; even friendly visitors are treated as potential enemies and subjected to intense scrutiny until their motives become clear. Once someone has earned the pack’s trust, there’s little the Varg won’t do to assist them, though getting there can be an uphill battle. Strength and age earn a certain degree of respect in Varg circles, but selflessness is the cardinal virtue—any adventurer with a reputation for chivalry and charity will find herself well-positioned to make friends among the wolfmen. Canny negotiators can also exploit colors to their advantage, as the Varg instinctively regard eye-searing clothing as a mark of stature.
Varg speak Common Tongue with a deep, guttural emphasis on the R’s. Their own language, a remnant of their feral days, predominantly uses growls, barks, and howls to communicate. By casually slipping these into ‘normal speech,’ Varg can incorporate coded messages in almost any conversation. Varg names tend to be Germanic or Nordic-sounding; possible examples include Arnlaug, Eriulf, Horst and Vegeir. Family names are not used in Varg society, though some Varg are awarded a second name to commemorate a particular accomplishment. Where necessary, nicknames such as ‘Fang’ are used to distinguish between several wolfmen sharing the same moniker
The enigmatic Viera are slender, silver-haired forest-dwellers, almost physically identical to humans save for a few notable differences. The most prominent of these is also the most visible: the large rabbit-like ears that protrude from the top of a Viera’s head, granting them hearing keen enough to hear the voices of spirits, of nature itself. Combined with unusually sharp vision, this allows the Viera to track movement as far as away as ten kilometers with unerring accuracy—a feat most other races can only dream of.
Other distinctive features include limber legs, long fingers, and three-toed, pawlike feet with an arch large enough to make high-heeled shoes an orthopedic necessity. Viera skin colors can range from tan to brown, depending on species; the ‘pure-blooded’ Veena Viera have light brown skin, while the Rava Viera are darker in coloration.
Representatives: Fran (FFXII_), Shara (FFTA_), Mydia (FFXIIRW)
Height: 1.6–1.8m (Male/Female, excluding ears)
Weight: 70–90kg (Male/Female)
Hair Colors: Universally silver
Eye Colors: Red, green, blue
Lifespan: 220–240 years
- Young: 8–15 years
- Average: 40–130 years
- Old: 180–200 years
The Viera have been forest-dwellers for many generations, living in elegant, sex-segregated platform villages suspended far above the ground. Such settlements are designed with defense as a first priority, hidden away from prying eyes by a thick veil of hallucinogenic powders and protected against invasion by barricades placed at regular intervals, allowing the village’s archers to mount a defense at almost any location.
Though led by a chieftain, Viera take their directions from the Laws of the Wood, rigid rules and regulations every Viera is expected to follow. The Laws demand the forest be treated with care and respect, and forbid any villager from ever leaving the forest, regardless of reason; in return, the forest will shelter and nuture the Viera for as long as they remain under its boughs. As a result, the majority of Viera live out their entire lives in the confines of the wood, content to remain ignorant of the world beyond. Due to this self-imposed isolation, Viera generally do not associate with other races; visitors are spurned and invaders annihilated by claw, bow, or the mystic energies of the forest itself.
A few, however, desire more from their lives. Driven by longing or curiosity, they abandon that sheltered existence to pursue a more uncertain, unpredictable one. Such acts carry severe consequences; those who venture into the outside world are no longer considered Viera by their fellows, and are treated as harshly as any other race, if not worse.
Due to their physical beauty, outcast Viera have little trouble melting into human societies; they readily strike up relationships with humans, and may even become romantically involved with them. Still, expatriate Viera are ultimately closest to one another, thanks to their shared history and long lifespans; any city with significant Viera presence will see them form tight, insular communities in a surprisingly short span of time.
Viera can be grouped into two broad categories—those who abide by the Green Word, and those who have abandoned it to explore the world and expand their horizons. There is little love lost between latter and former; outcasts usually view their forest-dwelling counterparts as blind, hidebound xenophobes, while the traditionalists refuse to acknowledge the existence of their wandering, city-dwelling brethren out of hand. Adventuring Viera tend to be outcasts, though it is possible for a party to battle alongside traditionalist Viera under extraordinary circumstances.
An outside observer would find the Viera coolly intelligent, perhaps excessively so. Their long lifespans give them the ability to pursue knowledge in an orderly, focused manner; they have time enough to concentrate on mastering a subject in its entirety before moving on to the next, gradually building a wealth of abilities over the course of several decades. Viera age slowly, giving them a deceptively youthful appearance; a Viera with the face—and body—of a thirty-year-old can easily have the experiences and memories of two human lifetimes. As such, they can be creatures of many secrets and surprises, with a depth and breadth of knowledge that is often bewildering to other races unaware of their longevity.
All Viera are born with the ability to hear and speak the ‘language’ of their native forests through a form of psychic communication known as the Green Word. Using this talent, a Viera can communicate with local plants and trees, allowing them to track the passage of individuals within the forest as well as happenings at its outskirts. This ability, however, begins to atrophy once a Viera leaves the forest; the longer the absence, the greater the risk that the Green Word will be muted entirely. Viera are also sensitive to the ebb and flow of magic, and may find themselves overwhelmed by strong ambient energy. In the presence of particularly powerful magic, the resulting assault on their senses can cause them to lose control altogether, driving them into a berserk frenzy.
Viera speak Common Tongue fluently and eloquently, albeit with a slight accent. Due to the fact that they have little interest in lineage, Viera have only a single four-letter name; the letter ‘j’ is frequently used in place of a vowel. Sample Viera names include Rena, Ktjn, Jote, and Rael.
Huge, muscled, and shaggy, the Yeti is as powerful and relentless as an avalanche. Dwelling at the very fringes of civilisation, these ape-like humanoids are perfectly adapted to life in bitter tundra and icy mountain peaks; their limbs are strong, their hands powerful enough to keep a grip on sheer ice, their claws capable of digging all but the hardest of rocks, their teeth adept at tearing flesh and crushing bone. Large feet provide extra traction on frozen ground and prevent them from sinking into snow drifts; for this reason, the Yeti is also known as Bigfoot in places. Other names given to Yeti include Sasquatch, Snowman, and Wendigo.
Though they are insulated by thick, leathery skin and a layer of long fur, a Yeti’s true defense against the cold is a low natural body temperature; the colder the environment, the lower the temperature dips. Members of this species who live in sub-zero climates are actually capable of breathing ice particles, and can even exhale miniature blizzards from their freezing lungs.
Representatives: Umaro (FFVI)
Height: 2.0–2.2m (Male) / 1.9–2.0m (Female)
Weight: 180–220kg (Male) / 170–190kg (Female)
Fur Colors: White, brown, red, gold
Eye Colors: Yellow, black, brown, red
Habitats: Mountains, Forest, Tundra, Underground
Lifespan: 25–30 years
- Young: 1–2 years
- Average: 4–15 years
- Old: 20–25 years
Yeti society begins where most other races give up entirely—treacherous mountain peaks and howling, snow-covered wastes where only the hardiest of life forms survive. In these conditions, civilisation is superfluous; food is hunted down and killed, shelter comes in the form of natural caverns and burrows hastily dug out of the heaped snow, and possessions are limited to what can be carried—sometimes no more than a club or a necklace of trophies.
Harsh conditions serve to keep numbers small. Nomadic tribes rarely number more than ten to fifteen at a time, hunting in groups of two or three, though Yeti are far more common as individuals than as groups. Even families are temporary arrangements, lasting only from mating until such a time as the couple’s offspring are capable of fending for themselves—typically between one and two years. At this point, the young Yeti usually strike out on their own, and the couple separates until the next mating season.
Because of their isolated habitat, Yeti rarely come into contact with other races, giving them something of a mythical status among naturalists. Those living in the coldest, bleakest areas typically attack other humanoids on sight, treating them no differently from any animal or monster. In more hospitable environments, that aggression is traded for reclusiveness, albeit justifiedly so; because of their monstrous natures, it is not uncommon for Yeti to be used as sport by unscrupulous hunters or fall victim to frightened villagers. Yeti who dwell within reach of a community tend to be excessively cautious creatures, staying far away from prying eyes and emerging from their safety of their lairs only under cover of night or fog.
Yeti are straightforward, uncomplicated thinkers. Some would characterise them as stupid, but it is better to think of them as guileless; the brutal simplicity of day-to-day existence in Yeti society does not reward any thinking more intellectual than “Where I get food?” Their strength and exceptional vigor makes force a natural and regular part of the communications process; debates are frequently resolved by who can land the heartiest blows. To gain a Yeti’s respect requires the strength to beat him in a man-to-man battle, though bravery is an acceptable substitute—Yeti figure that anybody with enough confidence to stare them down without quailing is probably worth listening to.
In the same vein, Yeti simply do not have the imagination or sophistication for culture shock. If dropped into high-tech society, they are more likely to shrug at—or smash—the devices they encounter rather than stare in rapt amazement. This unflappable attitude can be a great boon to adventuring parties; faced with an unfamiliar situation, Yeti are far more likely to keep their heads on straight than other races.
As they have little use for language, their take on the Common Tongue is somewhat crude. Yeti prefer to put what others say with words into a mighty roar or a swing of a club. Conversationally, they are creatures of little subtlety, always searching for the fastest resolution to a situation; poor diplomats, if excellent interrogators. Yeti names are short, built of one-syllable blocks each ending in a vowel. This construction is deliberate, allowing those names to be bellowed—one syllable at a time—across mountaintops and gorges to maximise the echo effect, and with it the distance the sound carries. Examples of this style of naming include Akuna, Kisatu, and Nuka.
For simplicity’s sake, the *FFRPG*’s races differ only in their Attributes, appearance, and background. This allows the races to be balanced against each other in campaigns where non-humans are the norm, making no one race decisively better than the rest. In campaigns where non-human characters are a novelty rather than a fact of life, however, it may make sense to differentiate them, giving their physiology and abilities actual gameplay implications. The optional rules in this section offer some suggestions on how GMs can accomplish this.
Because of fundamental differences in physiology, some races are better—or worse—at certain activities than others. A tiny Tarutaru, for instance, would have more trouble lifting a boulder than a hulking Yeti, while an agile Mithra has better hand-eye coordination than a lumbering Qu. Most of these differences are reflected by the races’ Attributes, but there are some things that go beyond the scope of a simple statline. To reflect this, non-human characters can be given a Racial Modifier to certain Task Checks. A Racial Modifier can be either a bonus or a penalty, and stacks with Synergy and Enhancement Bonuses. Suggested Modifiers for several races are listed below.
Thanks to the structure of their legs, Creimire can jump further and survive greater falls than other races. Creimire gain a +20 Racial Modifier on any Acrobatics and Climbing rolls where these abilities are beneficial.
Dwarves have intense difficulty swimming due to the natural density of their bodies. Dwarves suffer a -30 Racial Modifier on all Swimming rolls, regardless of the circumstances.
A Dwarf can endure higher temperatures than most, flourishing even in the midst of molten lava. Dwarves gain a +40 Racial Modifier on Survival rolls made in desert and volcanic environments, though only when their personal survival is concerned.
Due to their diminutive size, Moogles gain a +20 Racial Modifier on Stealth rolls and Attribute Checks in situations where their small stature is beneficial.
A Qu can find nourishment in anything, digesting rocks and sands as readily as a fine roast. Qu gain a +40 Racial Modifier on Survival rolls made for foraging food, though only for the Qu itself—other races simply don’t have the stomach for it.
Due to their high body temperatures, Ronso can weather far colder climates than most other races. Ronso gain a +20 Racial Modifier on Survival rolls made in arctic and cold environments, though only when their personal survival is concerned.
Due to their diminutive size, Tarutaru gain a +20 Racial Modifier on Stealth rolls and Attribute Checks in situations where their small stature is beneficial.
A Yeti is capable of living comfortably in sub-zero temperatures, and have little to fear from such environments. Yeti gain a +40 Racial Modifier on Survival rolls made in arctic and cold environments, though only where their personal survival is concerned.
In situations where the senses come into play, FFRPG characters use their Awareness Skill to determine what they pick up. As this Skill covers every sense, a character’s sight, smell, and hearing are all assumed to be equally good. As the descriptions given over the course of this chapter make clear, though, this is not strictly the case for every race. To reflect this, GMs can apply Racial Modifiers to non-human characters’ Awareness rolls depending on the senses being used. A table of suggested modifiers has been given below, breaking Awareness down into the six senses used by monsters in Appendix II and offering appropriate Racial Modifiers for each. Any sense with a strikethrough (—) is not naturally available to the race in question.
|Table 3-2: Racial Senses|
Finally, races may be differentiated by use of Traits. While some of the unique attributes of certain races can be covered by the Advanced Traits given in Appendix IV, others are best represented by the new Advanced Traits presented below.
Effect: Moogles have small wings on their back, though they cannot fly, only hover—and even then only when unencumbered. Doing so is a tiring process, limiting the amount of time a Moogle can feasibly spend airborne.
- -1 Point (Spontaneous): By spending 1 Point, a Moogle character can use her wings to pass over obstacles, avoid traps, cover impassable terrain, or escape a treacherous situation.
Effect: Though not potent enough to use as a weapon, a Yeti’s breath is still cold enough to freeze objects, provided these are no larger than a tankard of ale or a puddle of water.
- -1 Point (Spontaneous): By spending 1 Point, a Yeti character can use his cold breath to aid himself or the party.
Child of the Forest
Effect: Viera have a close relationship with their native woods, and are at a significant advantage when in their ‘home turf’.
- -1 Point (Spontaneous): By spending 1 Point, a Viera character can recognise and bypass the powers used to cloak Viera villages from outsiders.
- -1 Point (Spontaneous): By spending 1 Point while in her native forest, a Viera character can communicate with the woods to locate any other Viera native to the forest, even if they are not currently in the area. Locations obtained in this manner will be vague rather than direct (“Esle has passed through the cold mountains into the rift of ancient battle.”) and may require interpretation to be of any use to the party. Alternately, the Viera can find the exact location of any and all non-Viera life forms currently within the forest, as well as ones that have recently passed through the woods. This effect should be limited to Viera who have recently left their forest, and not be available to long-term exiles.
The following list recaps some of the most important concepts introduced in this chapter for quick reference.
- Racial Modifier
- A modifier imposed to a Task Check as a result of a race’s unique physiology.