The Mog Who Sold The World

By allowing the player access to these optional cutscenes, ATE invites him/her to engage with FFIX’s supporting cast. These additional segments characterize the crew on their own terms and not as extensions of Zidane and his exploits. This builds player relationships while simultaneously delivering non-intrusive exposition and world-building. Children in Dali taunt and annoy Vivi, foreshadowing the revelation of black mages as artificial constructs. Eiko empathizes with a stunned Dagger, acting outside of her role as Zidane groupie. Amarant discloses his backstory to Freya, explaining his animosity for Zidane while conveying his newfound respect for the Burmecian Dragon Knight. The player opts in or forgoes as suits his/her leisure.

Some ATEs, however, are mandatory. At such times, a greyed-out ATE pop-up alerts the player to events elsewhere and the scene cuts away. In this manner, the game uses established mechanics to break the flow of protracted cutscenes, interspersing them with comedy, action or drama before returning right where it left off. JRPG cutscenes are of notorious breadth, but here an excuse is given to present them in bite-sized chunks. Meanwhile, what would be a jarring cut-away is legitimized by the use of internal game logic. Accustomed as the player is to opting in to ATEs, a reflexive press of the select button signifies consent regardless of redundancy.

If ATEs describe Gaia one scene at a time, Mognet makes it a connected world. Acting as save and rest points, moogles can be found in every city and dungeon throughout the game. The iconic Final Fantasy creatures here offer a new narrative function in the form of a letter-writing community. As Zidane travels the Mist Continent and abroad, he serves as a postman for each moogle’s correspondence as they discuss personal relations, plot beats or simply local news. 

Not only does this turn the fuzzballs into one elongated subquest, it draws a line between each consecutive story location and connects the characters in one area with those in another. These are NPCs with names, with friends and families delighting in their communications and relating to the world around them. Even if it wasn’t tied to such an adorable community, Mognet would still dismantle the trend of a disconnected, autonomous population.

On the other side of things, through the use of Mognet Final Fantasy IX enroots player-specific events to the virtual world at large. As with ATEs, correspondence between moogles depicts a world relative to the participants, momentarily dethroning Zidane (and the player) as the centre of the universe. Mopli’s letter to Serino advertises his fear at Cleyra’s impending invasion; should the player excel at the jump rope, Kupo namedrops Vivi to Monty as Alexandria’s new skipping champion. 

Despite the player being central to most news mentioned this way, it is the event itself and not Zidane’s often nominal presence that garners each moogle’s interest. In the face of the medium’s limitations and the game’s streamlined map structure, solipsism is averted.

In thematic terms, moogles epitomise the endearing spirit of Final Fantasy IX which delivers gravitas to its narrative of destruction. Stretching the length of Gaia and beyond, this thinly spread transnational society represents a pacifistic and nurturing culture united against the backdrop of war by the quaintest of things – a postal service. Through their letters the player sees terror at the dread power of Kuja and sorrow for the refugees left behind in his wave. From this perspective, it is easy to rally against the story’s villain if only in seeking to protect the moogle’s cherishable community.

Though Gaia may be incomprehensibly populated and senseless in structure, in establishing a narrative between interconnected denizens it is presented to the player as one contiguous world. Above all else, even if you don’t agree that the world needed saving, how could anyone not love a moogle?

Header credit: Randis/DeviantArt