Massive Meeting Moves Moogles to Mambo!

This page has been archived here from official Square Enix sources. It was originally posted on 13/09/2012.

Cloppin' along and down, down on the range, the MHMU once again steadfastly supports the fan-favored festivals of late summer.

This year, we have strived to set up a kupo-tacular barbeque bonanza for weary wanderers to kick back and insatiably ingest grilled goodies.

What a relaxing respite from everyday expeditions! And even more magnificent, this carnivalesque cornucopia is an optimal opportunity for us to reap rewards of glittering gil, kupopopo!

…Oh dear. My candid contemplations have sordidly sullied the MHMU's remarkable reputation.

Never mind. One meager moogle's momentary mistake is of no certain concern to an able adventurer. After all, our fatal flaw is an inferior inability to heartily hold dutiful deliberations, kupo…

"Dutiful deliberations?" You ponder, perplexed. Right as rain! I moderated moogle meetings to decidedly determine how to publically promote this exquisite extravaganza! Depressingly difficult, I assure you… Yet this wonderful where-it's-at will surely satisfy your yearly yearnings!

"The moving motto of the fabulous festival has gotta be this, kupo!"

So intoned the owner and rancher of the farm at which this year's Blazing Buffaloes Festival was to be held. With that, he held up a placard containing two slogans scribbled in writing that could only be generously defined as chicken scratch.

"Braised Bison Banquets Only Obtainable Thanks to Remarkable Ranches!"
"Mouthwatering Milk Always Available from Perfect Pastures!"

"That stupefying scrawl won't attract the attention of picky patrons."

"You're missing the mark! My woeful writing is beside the point. These contrived catchphrases can be infinitely improved with your own opinions."


The moogle cowpokes were at a loss, yet the smoke pouring out of their ears was a sure sign that their little brains were working overtime to accommodate his request.

And then, one moogle whose puffball was of a particularly vibrant moogle timidly raised her hand.

"Sir, an idea!"


"These beautiful bison ostensibly originate in upper Uleguerand."

"Astute assertion," the rancher responded, "Yet outstandingly obvious. Warriors with wanderlust caught the creatures, and hauled them here, where we blissfully breed them."

"Maybe. Yet content citizens and vacuous villagers nearly never enjoy the experience of mirthfully mingling with the boisterous bovines."

Her head bobbed up and down, pleased with herself at the realization that she may, for once, have contributed something to the discussion. After all, most people only set eyes on the wild beasts once per year.

Live beasts, that is. Steak has been enjoyed throughout the three nations and beyond, and none could question the quality of the milk.

She blabbered on and on about what a perfect opportunity to have the world at large learn of the wondrous buffalo.

"Well? In what way do we present them to the public?"

"Hmm…try transformation and parade the paths as divine bovine?"

"Interesting idea."


One moogle, who had been hiding in the corner staring at his notebook, poked his head out in objection. It was the MHMU's financial auditor…or what passes for a financial auditor if you're a moogle.

"You'll break the budget! First moogle masks, now cow costumes? Our profits will go poof!"

"Not even a buffalo belt?"

"No, nincompoop! Our most meaningful mission is to get our books in the black!"

Her puffball sagged in disappointment. She had hoped to be of some service to her superior.

"Money making moves moogles to moonlight as morons," the rancher huffed in exasperation. "But your concerns are clear."

"So bundling up as bovines will cause excessive expenditures…" sighed the female moogle.

"An unfortunate understatement, to be sure. Let's alternatively assess other options."

The rancher furrowed his brow. This was getting them nowhere! Yet with the absence of a better plan, he had no choice but to continue down this line of thought.

A grave silence fell over the room, all moogles lost deep in contemplation. Suddenly, one excited moogle—the one in charge of the buffalo buffet—smiled and thrust his hand skyward.

"A tremendous taste testing table! Finicky festivalgoers favor fresh flesh, so why not dazzle and delight them with delectable delicacies!"

"Interesting idea. We set up a store so savvy shoppers shuffle off satisfied. What an outstanding observation!"

Unfortunately, not all was well with this plan, the restaurant coordinator explained.

"What is it?"

"Standards state that such soirees consist of scores of steak. Our current cow capacity would certainly be consumed in seconds."

"Kupo! If you lackadaisical lackeys lack interesting ideas, dinner will be delayed indefinitely!"

The atmosphere was starting to take a turn for the worse. Little of what the workers said caught the fancy of the rancher, and those that displayed promise were shot down as cost inefficient.

But where in their bylaws did it state that the workers do all the planning? The committee, sensing that time was of the essence, urged the rancher himself to come up with a proposal, because it was becoming increasingly clear that deliberations were at an impasse.
With the tables turned, the rancher realized just how unreasonable he was being to his staff. He thought, and he thought, and he thought, but nothing came to mind.

Just as all hope was lost, his eyes began to twinkle. A possible idea had him at last.



"A Puh? An ape, you opine?"

"P-poster? A super special poster, kupo!"

The moogles sat still, heads cocked to one side.

"Imagine it, kupo! Multitudes masticating mounds of mouthwatering meat! Moogles and more guzzling gallons of magnificent milk! What an auspicious advertisement for attracting adventurers!"

The moogles sat silent for a brief moment, pondering the rancher's words.

"Would it work?"

"Unexpectedly efficient and effective…"

"It obeys budget boundaries," sniffed the accountant.

The rancher smiled proudly as, one by one, the moogles voiced their assent. Thought it may have come to him in the heat of the moment, the idea might just be one worth pursuing.

His joy, however, was short-lived.

"Get going, then!" The restaurant runner intoned.

"M-me? Get going with what?"

"The promotional poster, pinhead! We'll need marvelous models—like you—and daring drawings, kupo!"


"Well? Why are we waiting?"


The others stared at him as he sat silently, inwardly sobbing in resignation.

Yet he was left without any other choice. He must have struck hundreds of poses, his eyes glazing over with ever-increasingly fake glee as he gorged on slab after slab and filled his stomach with pitcher after pitcher. His workers, however, were not pleased with his efforts, and made request after request.

"Sunny smiles, with pomp and pizzazz! Turn those lemons into lemonade!"

"Pizzazz? Lemonade? Like this?"

"Yes! You look radiant and resplendent! Now turn twice. Time for take thirty-three!"

And so the rancher twisted and turned, trying to give just the right impression. Satisfaction, however, was just out of reach. His cheeks puffed out more and more with each steak he was made to eat, and milk began dribbling down his chin. As he spun and twirled even harder and faster, he found himself dizzier than a mandragora in a windstorm.

When the drawings were finally finished, he went home and passed out, sleeping for three days straight.

His efforts were not for naught. The end result was a fabulous poster sure to capture the attention of thousands. In fact, the posters had such appeal that raving fans asked for more and more copies, ripping them out of the hands of those placing them throughout the three nations. After all that work, not a single copy was seen on the streets of Bastok, San d'Oria, or Windurst…


Story: Miyabi Hasegawa
Illustration: Mitsuhiro Arita

Category: News

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