Minecraft Forums

Quote from worldhero1»

OOC:

Minecraft Username: MuseofHeart

Age: 19

Definition of meta gaming: Using info gained in OOC to your advantage IC

Definition of power gaming: Doing an action to a player instantly without them being able to retaliate.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I have roleplayed for years, I'm not even sure myself how long I have been but it's been as long as I can remember. It was mostly just textwise rping but about a year ago I was introduced to roleplaying in minecraft. I was told about this server by UofMTigerFan who explained the history of fallout to me since I have not played the games.

IC:

Name: Nathaniel Kenway

Age: 19

Appearance: Nathaniel is albino so he has mostly colorless white hair that looks like it is in a permanent state of bedhead due to not caring about taking care of his appearance. His skin barely has any pigment in it whatsoever, it looking almost as white as snow. His eyes are a very pale green that tend not to show emotion. He wears a long black hooded jacket over a beaten up white shirt with jeans and sneakers. On rare occasions he wears thin framed reading glasses, mostly for aesthetic purposes.

Personality: When you first meet him, Nathaniel is very kind and selfless. He will usually go out of his way to help those who are in need even if it endangers himself. However the longer one is around him the more he seems... off. When his true colors laced with dementia and obsession give way he tends to say more and more unusual things that most wouldn't really understand. He has an obsession with those who have ability and has a major inferiority complex.

Backstory:

Nathaniel spent his early life in a Vault in Maine with his guardian, having not known his parents. The last Overseer had matched the children up to different guardians and general caretakers. He was born with albinism as well as frontotemporal dementia, a mental disorder. He spent the rest of his childhood in the same Vault as he was born in. Nathaniel's life was truly one of difficulty and struggling due to the Vault's experiment. The experiment was that the Vault was filled with people with mental illnesses and left them completely untreated, with obeying and watchful sociopaths as security guards and a schizophrenic Overseer. The only real form of recreation there was was in the form of the guards taking the residents to a firing range and teaching them how to use a gun, amongst other survival education, but that was mostly when one of the residents got… ‘antsy’, which Nathaniel was considered much of the time. And only having one guardian to raise him didn't really help too much with that. He barely had anything to do to preoccupy himself with, mostly spending his days alone or talking to the other insane residents in a twisted sort of optimism. When he was in his teens he was at his worst. It was almost impossible to get the boy to stop rambling about justice, hope, talent, and his own worthlessness. The majority of the people that shared the Vault with him grew disdain and disgust towards him, cutting off what social life he had. One of them attempted to beat him, but the guards of the Vault would end up ceasing what attempt of a punch they had.

One day something in his mind snapped and when someone approached him, screaming at him and telling him to "shut the f**k up or I'll kick your a**!" he just laughed loudly. A somewhat weak, raspy, breathy laugh. The resident stopped, obviously taken off guard. The man who almost assaulted him and some of the others that were watching obviously saw it in his eyes that whatever bit of sanity that was left in him was taken away. Though the man himself and the others were mentally ill as well, they still seemed shocked. They were even more shocked when Nathaniel kicked the man between the legs causing him to crumple to the ground. They were speechless, having thought he wouldn't actually hurt anyone. They were even more taken aback when he brought his foot down to stomp on his chest, letting out another wordless laugh and shaking his head. The man on the ground began yelling back up at him, telling him to get the hell off and that everyone hates him. He finally spoke up. "I will if you lick my shoes like the filthy man you are." But then of course, the guards shoved him off the man and life went on, no matter how tense it was. Years passed by as the other residents either wanted to befriend him only to manipulate him or in solitude.

Eventually, at the age of 18, the before tense situation hit its inevitable boiling point. It was not him that caused it however… he woke up one day to screaming, both in anger and fear, alarms, and someone yelling in his ear to get up. “N….” the sound in his ears blurred together. “Nathan! Damn it boy, get up!” he identified the voice as his foster father, eyes springing open and trying to get up as fast as possible. When asked what happened, he shakily responded with, “Some...some b*stard killed the Overseer. Sh*t went to hell ever since. Hide over by the reactors, kid. I’ll catch up with ya’.” Nathaniel, still processing everything that was happening, was only able to give a quiet nod, running as fast as he could to the lower levels, the sounds of anguish, anger, and delirious laughter around him. He finally made it to the lower level of the Vault, catching his breath though he ran plenty times before, mostly away from other people. He ducked down by a reactor, pale eyes flitting around in… is what he is feeling fear? He hardly cares for the lives that are being lost, and he doesn’t think that he himself is going to die, but the feeling, the pressure was overwhelming, unlike anything he’s ever felt. His eyes raised to a rather large circular door that seemed very worn. A panel was hanging off of it. It had to be the way to open it… but his eyes, for a moment, went back to the way back upstairs. “I’ll catch up with ya’.” his foster father’s words come over him again. To someone who was normal, this decision would take much more time than the very small amount of time it took for Nathaniel to choose to leave him behind. He rushed over to the panel, fueled by panic and adrenaline, gripping onto it and pulling down. The door pulled back, and it rolled open.

He saw the world outside for the first time. Well, mostly just Maine. Due to him realizing the sun's rays being harmful to his health, he mostly stayed underground in metro tunnels, wandering around aimlessly and using the pistol he had taken to defend himself from mutated creatures and feral ghouls. Eventually rumors came to his ears of the all mutant faction in New York City, this somewhat striking his interest, wishing to find a place to finally be able to fit in. After a very long time walking through the tunnels, stopping to rest, killing whatever would attack him, and emerging to walk on the surface occasionally at night, he entered the city.

"Ah, so there are snakes in these tunnels...? Oh well, minor problem. They likely rule."

Chuck Hale here, I'll be your whitelist reviewer. Your OOC is solid enough for me, that's all good. However, I'm already seeing a flaw in your character. You claim Nathaniel does not care about his appearance and doesn't take care of his hair, but wears glasses for aesthetic purposes? That doesn't line up. After reading his backstory, it's not exactly a backstory to me. It reads to me like a series of events, vs a 'story,' if you will. And he just escaped? Just with the a little flick of the wrist and a flick of a lever and he was out? Nobody tried to stop him? Yes, the Vault was in anarchy, but NOBODY tried to stop him? And why didn't anybody else follow him? Was he the only one who thought of leaving?

To me this doesn't exactly add up as a great backstory and it'd be much appreciated if you could either clarify or change this. Until then, you are unfortunately

Quote from Wolfie_seekar»

Whitelist application:

OOC:

Minecraft Username: Wolfie_Seekar

Age: 16.

Definition of meta gaming: Unless I'm expected to go terribly in depth with a concept that any RPer should know, I'll break it down swiftly. 'Meta gaming' is using information acquired out of character to influence and determine what you do in character.

Definition of power gaming: Performing acts your character would not realistically be able to accomplish. That, or the other widely accepted meaning of forcing actions on people.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I'm so heavily irradiated from all the toxicity people who come near me need to wear hazmat suits.

IC:

Name: Hughbert Goldstein, otherwise known as 'Texas Red'

Age: 225 years a ghoul.

Appearance:

He's about 5'7 with a long dusty red coat on and eyes that don't quite seem to have colour any more. His shirt's a standard affair long-sleeved black polyester with a few tears and holes in the fabric.. His pants are crisp blue jeans with several holes in them around the knees and calves, some looking to be bullet holes and others just weathering from a hundred years of use.

Personality:

Hughbert's your stereotypical western villain with a heart of gold. He's quick to anger and quicker to draw his gun in any instance where there's danger. In terms of how he acts with 'others', there's not much to it. Zilch. Nada. He really hates most meatbags for being useless sacks of loot that have no use and no skill with anything in this absolute trashbin of a world.

Backstory:

October 23rd 2077.

In the time before this day, Hughbert was nothing more then a cog in the great and expansive machine that was the industrialist and capitalist haven known only as 'America, land of the free'. Even to himself little about Hughbert's 'first' life is known by himself, having been lost to the ever-grasping claws of time and failing cognitive abilities. At the date that will be remembered throughout all mankinds records as the beginning of the most cataclysmic events in Human history, a certain strapping young lad working in the economic sector of the Big Apple'd been visiting his mother in Albany on one of the few 'personal days' he's granted every year. In fact, they'd been in the middle of a particularly enthralling conversation regarding the state of the Silverbergs, old friends of the Goldstein Family with the soothing tones of the radio on in the background playing "Big Iron" when there was the jarring screech that signaled an emergency broadcast.

"This is the Emergency Broadcast System. Important information and a message from the President of the United States will follow this tone." The first reaction for both mother and descendant was a stunned shock and following silence as he looked towards his mother with fear in his eyes and slowly rose to his feet, knees shaking. "Keep listening, I'm going to go see if anyone knows anything outside.."

Huhghbert's mother called out behind him, "Just wait, Hughbie! The president'll tell us what happened in a moment!" The words were simply water running through one ear and out the other, failing to hear the sound words of reasoning. With quick feet pattering against the comfortable carpet and tile mixture of the decidedly middle class house's floor he scurried to the doorway and wedged it open, where many others were doing the same. Quick flits of observation between each group'd came up with no new information besides confusion among the populace scattered about the streets of town. On the hunt for a police vehicle or something - anything - that'd tell him what the matter is, time almost seemed to stop existing to him. Why he didn't just turn around nobody'll ever know, but he eventually found what he was looking for. The black and white of a police cruiser, one door open with no officer in sight but the soothing tones of the radio still playing as he keeled over it's hood, out of breath..

Moments later came one of the many warheads that hit all across the seaboard, wiping out a large portion of the city in the blast. Where the impact hit didn't occur to him as the earth shook, throwing him off his feet and causing him to smash headfirst into a wall, sending him into a never ending veil of darkness.

Within 48 hours of the impact.

When he awoke, there was a terrible pain encompassing him. He couldn't see, he could barely breathe, and it felt as if every bone in his body had been snapped in two every time he moved. A thick layer of dust coated him, black residue. It was clear that something'd happened, a particular smell in the air and many building seeming to have been hammered. The police car, gods preserve it, was still there when he woke up, though much worse for wear.

Hughbert crawled - no, dragged himself towards where it had been, vomiting up what he could only assume (and felt like) were his internal organs onto the ground. His hands clawed along as he left that precious moisture behind him, sight slowly starting to come back. As he looked down at this hands he saw them raw and bloody from where they'd scratched against the pavement, chunks of flesh left behind where pink and bloody skin was on his hand. Managing to pull himself into the seat of the vehicle he gasped in agony, taking a few long moments to think but found only searing agony in the back of his mind, unable to recall even his own name, or the name of his mother who he had been visting - even of the visit in total.. Bloody and raw hands scrabbled over the dashboard of the police vehicle, failing to close around the nob and further bloodying it for many a try till he locked his digits about it and twisted, the faint static of a dead radio station flickering to life.

"..widespread damage across the coa-.." He turned the dial once more.. "..messages from the president, communication dead.." and so he turned and twisted many times till the soft tunes of Marty Robbins flickered on... "To the tone of Agua Fria a stranger rode one day, nobody asked his business..." It was followed by many hacks and subsequent vomitting as he checked the dials on the dashboard once more, seeing if any fuel was left over.

A hundred years later.

For Texas Red, watching the world slowly piece itself together from atomic ash was slow and as boring as hell and every second he watched people quibble over idiotic arguments pained him. Watching a world that could be so cruel to itself carry on slicing it's fingers off to spite the hand. As the god-in-the box told him back when, it wasn't the job of Texas Red to communicate with ignorant Humans excessively, for he was an outlaw born from the ruins of whatever the hell they called the concrete jungle. Though, he never understood where this 'Ranger' who was hunting him was - it made him even more careful then God-in-the-Box says, never putting himself at risk to make money in the wide hilly wastelands of New York.

As for his time in between cities and the occasional roadside mugging, he'd picked up some souvenirs in his wide and long travels, having covered much of the North-Eastern region of the USA. On a trip to the ruins of something called 'Philly' he'd stumbled upon an ancient antique revolver on the corpse of some insignificant bum on the road. Thinking back to God-in-the-Box, he picked it up and clicked on the safety, sliding it onto a notch between his pants and belt.

Present Day

The 'Big Apple.' A place as good as any for Texas Red to find new targets and let the heat he'd gathered out west die down. A new start to the same old adventure was all he'd thought about. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he's swung by this city - but hey, who knows? Maybe the people here'll be just well.

Sup. I'll review you.

OOC Information

IC Information

Descriptive! I can see what Hughbert looks like in my mind. Love the backstory, and all your dates and specifics seem to be on point. Quality writing style. Great application overall!

Quote from Eyedeaus»

ChuckHale, firstly, I appreciate the feedback, I'll be sure to include more to the personality of the character when/if I put in another application. Thank you.

But, I said the character retains sociopathic behavior, this does not mean he is a sociopath. Secondly, I don't really understand why the concept of living in a vault is far-fetched to you. I didn't include dates because I didn't want to interfere with the years/specifics (and to avoid comments like yours, which I still don't quite understand, as I never used dates...) I kept it ambiguous intentionally. Also you say "The way it seems to me is that your character and his party of pals went out only a couple years after the bombs dropped. The world would still be full of deadly radiation. And the server is set in 2285." Sure, this is the way it seems, but it's not what it really is. Fallout 3 takes place in 2277, yes. I'm aware the server takes place 8 years after the setting of Fallout 3, but is it really plausible that my character would die of the "deadly radiation" you mentioned if the main character in Fallout 3 doesn't die of radiation (and isn't a ghoul). I mean if it works in the actual game Fallout I see no reason why it wouldn't here. This server is based of the game, no?

one last thing to mention, my OOC information is almost identical to tjt98's which is funny to me, since her definitions were seen as acceptable, anyways that's besides the point.

I hope you look over this and comprehend what I'm trying to say in my app. Thanks for your time bro

First of all, I don't appreciate the passive-aggressive tone you have there. Second of all, no, that's wrong. You seem to not understand timelines. Fallout 3 takes place two HUNDRED years after the initial bomb drops. That means, which should be obvious to anybody, means that the Lone Wanderer is not the first generation in the vault. Most likely, over 200 years, a 3rd or 4th generation. This means that the radiation has subsided, by quite a bit. But the way you are saying in your character's backstory implies that it had been only a couple years after the bombs dropped, and your character was the first generation in this bunker. This means that the world is still full of deadly radiation, and also 200 years before the events of Fallout 3.

Quote from Eyedeaus»

OOC:

Minecraft Username: Tarmogoyf_Player

Age: 16

Definition of meta gaming:

Knowing something out of character and applying that knowledge in character. Knowing something your character could not possibly know.

Definition of power gaming:

Forcing your actions to happen, and denying other players their emotes from occurring, even if its extremely unlikely they will succeed.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?:

Wild Wasteland, Ruined World, Year 2065, Asamular, Akavir. too many to name.

IC:

Name: William Park

Age: 22

Appearance:

Buzzed blond hair, 6 feet 2 inches, light beard.

Personality:

He displays perfect signs of a sociopath due to his lack of expression and character as well as his tendency to take things he wants. (Which often leads him to trouble.) Park also displays addictive behavior. He has superb acting skills, which he uses to persuade his fellow wanderers/wastelanders. Park is a exceptional fighter, he prefers melee weapons opposed to guns, although he can be pressured into using guns depending on the circumstances. He is particularly proficient in the use of a baseball bat.

Backstory:

Born Into a sheltered world beneath the torn Skies of what had been the Nevada Desert. His father, a wealthy CEO of a flourishing technologies company was never a risk taking man. Seeing that the world was becoming more unstable everyday-and fearing the worst, He set about the construction of a bunker for him and his family underneath his estate, five or so miles outside of Vegas. After the completion of the Bunker, he sold his stocks, and became a recluse. One year and a few months later, the world went further downhill than it had already been. The parks transferred to a vault some years later.Luckily for William, his father had also saved some of his closest friends, and people who had "suitable Gene pools for re-population" from the mysteries of the outside world. His life was often dull and uneventful. The same routine commenced every day. Out of all of this, his survival training was the most entertaining. After he received my first "weapon" (An old sword used in the war of the old world) He spent most of my free time at the Vault gym sparring, or else in the medical Sciences department, which he had taken a great interest in. But the Vault was in serious trouble by the time he had turned 19. The vaults Life Support System was on its last legs. With all the spare parts inside the vault consumed already, his father, had hand-picked a few to head in search of replacement parts. His father reluctantly picked William, knowing that he was the most trained individual available, although he feared for his life. The vault split into groups of two, and headed out. As the elevator took them to topside, William became ecstatic. Just the thought of the outside world joyed him to his core. He had wondered about your whole life. As the doors of the vault reluctantly opened, William viewed the outside world through the tinted orange of his hazmat suit. He saw barren waste, death, nothingness. Just a first glance of what the wasteland had to offer made William want to stay in the vault for eternity.

Soon enough the two groups were torn apart, struggling for survival William and the others who had survived took shelter in uninhabited ruins of the old world. Disease reached the conglomerate which only offered more of a struggle. They moved constantly, members dropping like flies each time, whether it be disease or insanity. Soon the group turned on each other, some left, others looked to suicide. Williams became unstable. He parted from the group onto the dirt and rubble of the wasteland which he now recognized as home.

Eyedeaus, your OOC information, while fairly solid could be improved as it lacks a couple of details. Your character's appearance description is rather poor. Buzzed blonde hair, 6'2, and a light beard. What's his complexion like? What about the colors of his eyes? What does he wear? How does he stand? Is his relaxed expression angry? Scared? Any particular scars? Details! I need details!

His personality is also strange. Why is he just a sociopath? That's coming off as the strangest thing I can see.

Your backstory, to be blunt, is extremely poor. The majority of it is wrong, just so plain wrong, I don't know if you know the history of Fallout, but, the bombs dropped in 2077. The way it seems to me is that your character and his party of pals went out only a couple years after the bombs dropped. The world would still be full of deadly radiation. And the server is set in 2285. Unless your character is a ghoul, there's no possible way that William Park is still alive. The way you are writing implies he is fully human.

Until you correct these errors, you are denied.

And lastly, read the rules.

Quote from ElecB0ogalo0»

OOC:

Minecraft Username: ElecB0ogalo0

Age: 17

Definition of meta gaming: The use of OOC knowledge IC. Such as your friend telling you they’re being cornered by a gaggle of savages, and you hoofing it over to help.

Definition of power gaming: Making an action without giving someone a chance to respond, or making an action for the other party. An example of such could be “Bob stabs Bill 47 times and Bill dies”

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: Numerous Skype RPs, both incarnations of Akavir, Sands of Alikr/Iliac Bay (My server), and Toro League.

IC:

Name: Kane Ryker

Age: 27

Appearance:

It’s rare for one to see what lies beneath Ryker’s armor, which consists of a thick, pre-war suit that might have been a radiation suit, or worn by miners and/or those who worked in the steel mills, that has been modified with steel plating (Raider Iconoclast Armor). His mask appears to be made of leather, with bulging lenses, a filter, and a hard-hat on top with a light attached (Supervisor Helmet). Beneath his covering, Ryker is a man of Hispanic descent with a trimmed black beard, shaved head, and dull green eyes. Being from The Pitt, Ryker is afflicted with Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, or TCD for short. As with others, this has caused skin lesions to cover his body, taking the form of vein like bulges, scabbed over sores, and discolored skin.

Personality:

Ryker is a man who believes nothing is simply handed to you. What you get, you earn. No matter what. Whether it be through wit, deceit, respect, or good old fashioned labor, you earn all that you have somehow, his preference being the latter two. One quick way to get yourself full of lead or on his dinner plate, is by taking credit for something you didn’t do. He can not, and /will/ not stand for someone taking credit from someone else. Someone more deserving, and the guilty party will pay dearly for it. Ryker is also the sort of man you could imagine ****ting out a diamond if you stuffed a lump of coal up his ****. For a raider, he’s surprisingly uptight about everything. Though, that could have to do with the fact he doesn't see himself or his fellow Pitt Raiders as savage beasts in mortal skin. No, to him, they are industrialists. Every slave he captures and sends off to The Pitt, every brutal torture he inflicts on an incompetent or strong willed worker, he simply sees as a business deal that some might consider a tad cut-throat. Not to say that Ryker doesn’t relax sometimes. He has a hobby of watching old movies stored on holodisks. Some of the men that have served under him even say that his has a soft-spot for Lord Ashur’s daughter, Maria, and that any toys they might come across he sends back to The Pitt with instructions for them to be given to her.

Backstory:

Ryker was born in the ruins of Philadelphia to a couple chem addicts that lived in a rundown slum inhabited by even more chem addicts. Needless to say, it was definitely not the sort of place a child should be living, Luckily for him, he wasn’t there long. No, when he was only five he was sold to a local group of a slavers to help fund his parent's Jet addiction. He didn’t mind though. The slavers were (nominally) nice to him, mainly because of his incredibly young age. His only complaint was that his necklace (slave collar) was a bit too tight, and pinched when he turned his head.

He was stuck in that slaver camp, working as a servant to the slavers for 10 years. By this time, his innocent, childish perception on everything had already shattered, allowing him to see the atrocities of the world, and accept them. It was at this time, he was finally sold. Deemed fit enough for hard labor, he was sold of to the Pitt Raiders, and taken to The Pitt as a slave. Though most children would buckle under the pressure of the harsh reality that is the hell hole, Ryker did not. Ryker worked, and he worked hard. He was determined, driven by the stories of freedom to those who did so. However, his hard work didn’t only draw the attention of his masters, but other slaves as well. One slave inparticular, one which towered over the bow with barely a hair on his chin, thought it wise to try and take credit for his work, and he did...for a while. Eventually, Ryker grew tired of the man, and when he had back turned, decided to see if the Auto-Axes they cut the steel with cut through flesh and bone just as well. Turns out they do.

This show of brutality and willingness to kill earned Ryker a spot in the hole, fighting for his freedom, and he’d be damned if his was going to allow what he craved so badly slip through his fingertips. Three slaves and three warriors entered, and one-by-one they fell the the child with an Auto-Axe, and Ryker, for the first time since his childhood, felt happy. That is, until he was told his freedom was in the form of becoming a Pitt Raider himself. Ryker was furious, and demanded his freedom. He swung his Auto-Axe through the chainlink fence at those watching, yelling in anger, until a voice broke through the noise, and all went silent. The crowd of dirty raiders parted as a man in modified Power Armor walked towards him. Ishmael Ashur. He explained why he did what he did. That the only way to restore The Pitt, restore industry, is if we all worked together. However, for everyone to work together, there needed to be a social order and strong men and women to fill it. Ryker fell silent, having never thought of it like that. Lord Ashur had successfully tamed his fury, and Ryker joined the Pitt Raiders.

Ryker’s fame within The Pitt only grew after he became one of the Raiders. He started out as a bridge guard, being handed the duty with making sure no one got in or out through use of landmines and a DKS-501 Sniper Rifle. Under his watchful eye, no slave ever made it farther than the overturned bus in the center, and few even made it that close to freedom. After that, he was moved to the mill to act as the foreman, where is brutality with the slaves that once were his brothers in binds and friends insured that productivity was at it’s peak. It was during this time he did away with the Auto-Axe and Sniper Rifle, gaining a preference for the N91 Urban Assault Rifle, which was in ample supply. He stayed in his position as Foreman for six years before being moved to the Raiding Parties. He wasn’t terribly happy with the change at first, but the raiding parties /had/ been slacking off lately, and were in desperate need of some improving. This is when the full extent of Ryker’s “dedication” would be seen. After a potential slave managed to escape the group when one of their number managed to be bribed with Psycho, a chem that said raider happened to be addicted to, Ryker decided that severe punishment was in order.

He knocked the addict out via a well placed hit with the butt of his AR, and ordered the other two to tie him up. They proceeded to camp there for three days, leaving the addict lying out in the middle of their camp, begging for mercy and chems, until he died from dehydration. After that, they returned to The Pitt. The brutal punishment of one of his own sent a message to those that might be placed under his command. He will not tolerate failure. In current, he still leads Raiding parties, and often comes back with some of the most bountiful hauls that reach The Pitt. Recently, he has been instructed to carry out a special mission; travel to the ruins of New York City, begin salvaging metal from the destroyed buildings, and as usual, bolster the ranks of their workers. Always the loyal follower, Ryker has set out to the Empire Wasteland, trekking through the metro tunnels to uncharted territory.

Tunnel Snakes Rule!

Quote from codycg»

OOC:

Minecraft Username: codycg

Age: 20

Definition of meta gaming: Meta gaming is taking knowledge out of character, and using it in character with no real means for your character to have that knowledge ICly. Also the tunnel snakes suck, they don't rule.

Definition of power gaming: Power gaming is when you force an action upon another player.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I've lost count on how many years or how many server's I've been enlisted in. I used to have my own post apocalyptic roleplay server a few years ago like Ruined World and Year 2065 or something like that. I've been an administrator on a few as well. I've been roleplaying on GTA SAMP (Red County RP), as well as Xbox 360 RP's on the GTA games though console RP is way too difficult so I just stick to RPing on computers. I'm into heavy RP so usually when my mood is good I do just that. I don't know why RP is in bold but okay. BlueScope will know me. Sup buddy.

IC:

Name: Cody Holloway

Age: 23

Appearance: Black combat pants, tattered undershirt and brown hair.

Personality: Ignorant, cautious, loyal and hard working. He's built settlements from the ground up and doesn't like to take crap from anyone. He's seen enough people come and go which made him not like to get attached to people. He isn't quick to trust but is one of the most loyal allies one can ask for.

Backstory: (You asked for it)

Your character's story so far:I was born and raised in a small shanty town called "Taipei". It was a small and dirty town llike all others. There were kids for me to play with most of the time and the towns folk were friendly. Up around the age of 13 I told my dad that I want to go out side the town walls. Go on an adventure some day. and he said "Son, one day you ARE going outside these walls, and you'll find the unimaginable out there. But theres something I need to teach you first" and that's where I picked up my basic fighting. He trained me for a year and a half so I could hold my own. I would practice day in and day out training myself, and with my father for that time. Around 14 since I had set my goal at such a young age. I worked for some money so I could buy gear when I'm ready to leave the community. I knew that time wasn't near but I wanted to be prepared. So for two years I worked for my money in a local Merchant shop cleaning the place. It wasn't fun but If I wanted to leave I had to. I would check stock, some times be in the store on my own, cleaning, and when something broke the owner would teach me on his spare time how to fix things. I learned some skills during my time there. Talking to people, learning the tricks of the trade. I met many people. Some better then other's of course.

But then, in the middle of it all. Tragedy struck. My mother had developed lung cancer. I think she had it for a while but the symptoms weren't there until she was older I suppose. It was like my world was spinning. I mean, she's my mother after all. How could I not care? She was always there for me when I needed her. Day in and day out. She was sick and in bed most of the time coughing, sometimes blood. It was heart breaking to see someone in so much pain. I didn't think she was going to die, figured she would come out of it like everyone usually should. But not this time. This time it was different. She only survived 2 months after. And we had to put her to rest. My father and I were distraught, but we had to carry on. We knew that we couldn't just stay in the past. We had to continue forward. So almost everyday from then I knew I had to make her proud.

I kept working as hard as I could until I had hit the age of 18. And yes. I mean still working in that little shop. Of course I took any other odd job that was around back then. Looking after animals, running errands, helping teach at the school. I took anything really just to get another buck. By then I was ready to explore the world. I took all my money I had saved up and went to the merchant I worked for. I bought things like water, medical supplies, a baseball bat, a spade, some food, and a sleeping bag to keep me warm at night. I said my goodbyes to my father Nathan and everyone in the town. And went on my way.

It was pretty scary at first. Not knowing what was out there. I thought there were a lot more people. I looked in all directions and there was just......Nothing. Like my town was the only thing for miles as far as the eye can see. So I headed in one direction and walked for several hours until finally I came upon a small settlement. I think it was called....Fort Glen. Don't know why. Didn't look like much of a fort. I met some people there though they weren't that friendly either. If I hadn't told them how long i had been walking they would had kicked me out of the place. I restocked some supplies. Stayed the night and was on my was the next morning. I don't even think anyone knew I left. I didn't take to any specific direction to go in other then the one I had just walked from. But on the way I found this spider like creature, I knew it didn't look good and I was right. Within seconds it was running towards me full speed so I got my bat at the ready. At first it jumped at me and I didn't expect it, I was knocked down almost within the blink of an eye. I used my forearm for protection and it crunched down on it, I screamed in pain but I knew if I just sat there I was dead. So I kicked it off, it came at me again. This time it didn't jump and I had a clear shot. I swung that batas hard as I could and nearlytook its head off. It wasn't dead but pretty close. It wasn't in any condition to move so I ran to a safe distance, took some medical supplies out of my satchel and began treating the wound. I noticed that my arm was broken and cut up bad. So I used some disinfectant and splint and carried on to where I was going.

You wouldn't believe what I saw. This place was HUGE. I had never seen a town so big in my life! I had come across Las Vegas! There were still some neon lights working around the city still it was amazing! High class people and a really nice town! Thankfully there was a doctor there to patch me up for a price. Real sinister looking guy too I mean he looked just like he came out of one of those old films. But looks can be deceiving. We spoke for a bit during and after he fixed me up. And was actually a family man with his own house just outside of the city. I told him my story and he even let me have a drink of some water he had around. I stayed there for about four days or so. That way I would have time to heal up. The place was beautiful but I just couldn't stay. I mean to come all this way to stop here? Not going to happen.

I met some pretty bright characters during my time there. One of them I remember. Went by the name of Shotte Latte. He said he got the name from shooting a drink right out of someone's hand! Said something about the person disrespecting him. Man the measures people will go through for such little things. If I were to go on, I would write for hours! But. I just don't have the time, nor the patients to do so. I packed up once again and left the glimmering city.

After I left I walked through the desert until night came. Though by that time I had found my way to some mountains. Where I spotted a cave. I took my flashlight and baseball bat and ventured in for shelter. My arm was still a bit beat up, so I was really hoping nothing was in there. Probably wouldn't have won the fight if there was. I was pretty surprised that there wasn't though. The cave didn't go very far in, so I set up camp and rested the night. In the morning...Well you know the story. Kind of like a broken record with me I suppose.

Some time later I came upon a guy named Danher. He made a very small place he ran by himself. He offered if I could move in and I accepted. I built my first house there. Hell that's where everything started. We lived in the same.. Well tiny town for a few weeks. But then raiders attacked us. I made it out. But he didn't. I went back a few hours later and they were gone. So I took over. I stockpiled up on supplies like metal scraps and pieces. And built up walls and an entrance. To ensure that it would never happen again. Then a stranger came by. I spoke with the man for a bit before letting him in. Good thing too. I offered for him to stay if he wanted and he accepted. I gave him Danher's old house. What a weird name..."Danher".. Not a name I have ever heard of before in my life I kept expanding on the town until I had made an inn. Some houses and walls high enough that you'd probably die if you fell off.

Eventually I actually made a roof over the town. Which was perfect. Like a private community to live in though it probably wasn't a good idea in the long run. You could certainly see the place from every direction. By this time about five people or so moved in the town. And before I knew it I had a community! My own town with people living inside of it! I had become mayor. A few weeks pass and.....Danher came back.. I couldn't believe it. I wasn't sure to attack him or talk to him but..He wasn't himself.. He looked decayed and distorted. I don't remember what he said or how it happened. But..Yeah... I let him stay, but before I knew it he starting trying to kill people in the town. And I had to kill him myself. So when it was dark, and no one else was around. I confronted him and we initiated battle. He didn't put up much a fight. As his hand fell off giving me an opportunity to strike. Look at me.. I'm babbling off again.. On wards towards the present.

That town. Which I called Petrova. Got raided a few months after I killed Danher. It was blown to bits. I tried to fix everything but the damage was just too much for me to handle. The occupants of the town left and I was all alone. I had no other choice but to leave. So I went off to start a new town. I searched for around a week or so searching the wastes until I came upon an old small settlement. Pre-war too. It even had it's own Nuclear Reactor! I couldn't believe my eyes it was absolutely untouched. The town had no walls around it. No protection. But it had complete possibility for it's own power. So I moved into one of the houses. It had a hole blown out of the side, so I fixed the hole and lived there. I took the items I had with me to build the walls. At least then I felt a bit safer.

A guy by the name of J came by and he seemed to be sane, even a bit intelligent, I let him in after a brief conversation and he was in awe of the place. He was fascinated by the reactor and the fact that it was still intact, let alone almost running. He offered to help repair it so power could be restored and within a few weeks we had figured it out. With a lot of hard work and dedication we were able to repair it.

Just like last time, people came and went. Moved in and moved out. Even after all of this I eventually left myself. I gave ownership to my friend "J". I must have been walking around for a few weeks when I came upon an old vault. It had three small "apartment" like things to live in. An incinerator, furnaces, it's own greenhouse. This was the first vault I had ever seen in my life. I wonder if all vaults had those things? When you walked into the lobby there's a glass floor under your feet. When you looked down there was a fully grown tree underneath. I found that quite amusing. My room had a fireplace. Storage area, bed, kitchen, you get the rest. Fit for a king. Two of three rooms had that, don't know why the third one didn't. Beyond me... But then out of no where. And I do mean no where. My friend "J" showed up. I was surprised as he was. He left the town the same as I. The odds of us meeting up with each other was extremely low. He was also out exploring. And I told him about my recent discovery. I told him to live with me in the vault. After all; I would probably go insane living in that thing alone. We lived in the vault and maintained it for a few years. He moved out. And not long after I did the same thing. I don't stay in the same place too long. Guess it's in my nature. Who know's though. People change right? Just like everything. I'll have to cut this short. So the bottom line here is. I have run over three towns, kept people in secret. Became what no one would have ever expected. Met more strangers then a hooker, covered more land then an Eagle. I've been through a lot, seen things like you couldn't even imagine. And it's only getting started. Thank you for reading. Though you probably shouldn't be. Unless you found my journal....

Both of you are approved! Sorry for the late reviews, I've been a bit lazy and busy recently.

Quote from joshua1029384756»

OOC:

Minecraft Username: Josh_Changeling

Age: 21

Definition of meta gaming: To assume one knows info and law instead of considering what exactly your character would know in this world.

Definition of power gaming: To either push an action or to attempt an act one can not realistically accomplish.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I've spent the last three years on forums, Skype and a MLP rp sever.

IC:

Name: Jacob

Age: 21

Appearance: Young, Caucasian, short brown hair and vault jumpsuit labelled 99.

Personality: Well meaning and attempts to do the right thing, although is also flawed suffering from mistrust, greed and fear. A simple way of looking at it is being emotional both from a positive and negative view.

Backstory: Basically Jacob, identified by a nametag on his jumpsuit, pretty much found himself on a rock, with no memory of how he got there. To expand Jacob was part of vault 99, an experimental vault with a simple test. Drugs would be ejected into the ventilation to give an amnesian effect overnight, the test to see If the vault dwellers could take care of themselves when they were incapable of remembering anything almost as if reliving the same day over and over. This was accomplished, barely, though notes and holotapes although this made life and maintenance difficult only keeping critical systems working thanks to a supply of maintenance robots supplied to the vault for this exact reason. Overtime however these robots rusted, they broke and while they had a sizable amount of machines when the vault was closed these robots simply broke down over time and unable to be repaired by the dwellers who were incapable of remembering anything lead to a radiation leak killing the majority of the population besides a small handful on the highest levels who escaped into the wasteland, Jacob being one of them. No long breathing in the chemicals, the amnesian effects recovered, though he is now lost and alone.

Tunnel stakes rule, Overseer drool.

OOC:

Minecraft Username: LucinaLatrans

Age: 14, 15 later this year.

Definition of meta gaming: Taking information you would only know OOC, and using it IC.

Definition of power gaming: Trying to force unrealistic or unreasonable actions on one another.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I've put many hours in to Fallout: New Vegas, and a few dozen into Fallout 3. I don't have much roleplay experience, but I'm interested in it.

IC:

Name: Lucina (based lightly on the character from Fire Emblem: Awakening)

Age: 24

Appearance: 5'9", Dark blue hair, blue eyes. usually wears medieval-themed clothing, as she is somewhat obsessed with the medieval theme.

Personality: Quiet, stealthy, keeps to herself. doesn't like to start fights that don't need to be started. she prefers melee weapons, but can use a gun if she needs to. she loved to read Grognak the Barbarian comics as a child, which is why she likes to use swords, and wear rather strange clothing.

Backstory: Lucina was stolen from her parents after they were shot dead by raiders. she was then raised by raiders in a somewhat cruel and harsh environment. she was forced to fight wild animals and other children in an arena, for the raiders' entertainment. one night, the raiders were attacked by a mysterious group of men, which she assumed were somehow related to the Brotherhood of Steel, as they looked like they were wearing some type of power armor. she used the opportunity to escape, and she's been running ever since, looking for a place to settle down, or maybe just a good place to die.



oh, and, Tunnel Snakes rule! suck it Anata! wait, her name was Anata, right?


Both of your applications are denied for the following reasons

joshua1029384756: Your OOC and IC information are both very lacking in the actual information department. Your OOC definitions could do with some more elaboration. Your IC descriptions are very lacking as well.

LucinaLatrans: Your OOC definitions are straight and to the point, they're good. However.. your backstory for Lucina is very cliche. Parents killed by raiders, and being raised by said raiders afterward. Very, very cliche. Why did the raiders raise the child? Most raiders are strung-out junkies.

You're both denied, but are able to re-apply at your discretion.

Quote from DendoNeko»

OOC:

Minecraft Username: DendoNeko

Age: 15

Definition of meta gaming: Using information you gathered OOCly, and using it Icly

Definition of power gaming: Forcing your actions against another player, without giving them a chance to react.

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: Well, I've Rped in multiple games, and a few servers before this. I have also played Fallout New Vegas, and have knowledge of stuff in the other games.

IC:

Name: Jay (Shortened form of Jayden) Riley

Age: 20

Appearance: He has long, dark brown hair, green eyes, and white skin. He's 5'10", and skinny. He wears a black duster jacket he found over his Vault 127 jumpsuit.

Personality: Curious, quiet, and usually content.

Backstory: He was born and raised in Vault 127, outside of what used to be Manhattan. On his 18th birthday, his father and mother were accused of 1st degree murder. He testified in a makeshift court, bu they wouldn't believe him, and his parents were executed by Electric chair. He watched the entire thing, and in rage, he left Vault 127. For good. He had been wandering throughout the Manhattan wasteland for a year, and eventually made it to New York City. He's been scraping together whatever he's needed for about a year now.

Let's take a peek here. Your meta and power gaming definitions are a little shaky.

Your appearance could do with a bit more detail. Scars? Does Jayden usually look calm and collected or furious and ready to burst in a second?

Personality could be expanded upon. A lot.

The backstory. Too short, too little detailed. What was his life like in Vault 127? Was he a troublemaker? Was he a nice guy? He just up and left the Vault?

For now, this is

OOC:

Minecraft Username: coolman166

Age: 15 going on 16.

Definition of meta gaming: Knowing and applying information gained out of character and using said information in character, or IC, to your character's advantage.

Definition of power gaming: Denying somebody's actions and forcing another without allowing the recipient to react, regardless of the likelihood that they would succeed

What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I've had multiple experiences in roleplay. An old server called Crafthammer, another called Avitus, which I was involved in, and another one called Akavir, along with Iliac Bay and Ashes of Our Fathers.

IC:

Name: Jason Wright

Age: 24

Appearance: He wears, like always, his Official Vault 21 Jumpsuit. Above it the science lab coat with the pocket on the left. He pulls the sleeves down really low, and always wears the boots that go with the Official Vault 21 Jumpsuit.

Personality: Jason, like all children coming from Vault 21, has a gambling addiction. He will gamble for anything, even if it's his life. Never been a coward, he is never going to become one. He rarely shies away from an opportunity to make a few caps. Extremely sarcastic, but this proves to get him in trouble sometimes.

Backstory: The holotape crackles to life in your Pip-boy 3000. It starts with the sound of heavy breathing, and a "plump" sound. A voice starts talking, "What a life yours has been so far, Jason. Tell us aaaaalllll about it." The sound of a switchblade being drawn is heard. The voice continues, "Quickly now, friend. Before any blood is shed."

A sigh is heard, and who you assume is this 'Jason' fellow starts speaking, "Pablo, my friend, it all started during my birth. As the doctor cut the umbilical cord from my mother's 'ahem' womanly-parts, I started crying. The bright light hurt my eyes, I suppose. During that time I was only an infant, incapable of speaking, of course. I'll skip to my younger years of childhood. My dad, good old dad.." Outside of the little fortification you have made out of spare metal plates you hear a scratching noise. No need to care, though. You continue to listen to the holotape. "Dad taught me all I know about gambling. Especially because his dad was. And so was his dad. And his before him. All gamblers. So he decided to teach me what everybody else in the vault did. If you are too dim, it was gambling." Jason takes a quick breath. "I was about 4 or 5 at the time, so I was more interested in the Fancy Lad Snack Cakes he would reward me with for winning a game against him. I know now that he was letting me win, but it gave me a sense of confidence against other opponents. I knew if I kept my thoughts clear of anything but winning the game and the rewards, I'd do well."

You are surprised to hear the other man, Pablo, speak again, "You're an ass Jason. You're keep us away from what you know we want."

"I'll get to that."

"It's not quick enough."

"Fine! My teenage years it is then. When I was 14, I was in a very heated session of poker of who had possession of such a beautiful girl. She was quite a sight, that one. But my memory fails me to remember her name now. Sarah? Maybe. I don't care, though. She must be long gone. Anyways, during this poker game- Ouch! Stop poking me with that damn knife you nit-wit!"

A deep chuckle is heard, "Heh-heh. The boss said I can do what I want to you, and I want to poke you."

"Whatever! During this poker game, I was clearly winning. My opponent, or should I say, late opponent, failed to keep a calm head. He slammed his balled fists on the table, knocking my cards out of my hand. Showing my winning hand, he slapped me across the face. Despite this, I kept my poker-face, stepped up to him, and knocked him out cold. Unfortunately he held a grudge for many years and attempted to -eh- murder me in my sleep. Failure of an operation that was. He tripped on the baseball I had lying by my bed. I took said bat, and beat him to death with it in the middle of the night. Vault security walks in, and sees me beating somebody with a bat, like *I* was the bad guy here. That was what they though, and kicked me out of the vault. Didn't even let me say good bye to anybody! Just opened the door and pushed me out! There! You happy now, Pablo?"

Pablo speaks with a now more obvious accent to you, "No. Tell me why you came here."

A quick cough is heard and Jason continues talking, "Fool, Pablo. You are a fool. You know you have what you want. Let me go."

"Never! You'll tell your story and die!"

The snapping of a chair leg is heard and the "OOMPH!" of a man is heard. Gun shots are heard, and the 'click' sound of a holotape shutting off is heard. You fumble around with the second holotape and pop it in and listen. All you hear at first are footsteps and heavy breathing.

"Fools will never find me. If my Pip-Boy is right, I'm nearing Utah. I think I'm getting close to Salt Lake City... Traveling for weeks, now. If I can get one more traveling caravan to let me stay with them.."

The holotape makes the broken skipping noise, and clicks back off. After fumbling with it for a few minutes, it remains broken. Oh well. You have more important things to do.



Tunnel Snakes Rule.

C

OOC:
IGN:coolman166
Age:15
Time you can dedicate: All summer long.
Why us?: Because I already know a lot of the community from Akavir. And I want to experience a Fallout RP that is not a cluster of.. everything.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Assuming control of a character of your imagination in an imaginary (Or real) world and playing out their actions and life.

Define Meta-gaming in your words:Using information you found out OOC and applying it IC.

Define Power-gaming in your words: Doing something not humanly possible; forcing action upon another player.
Did you join our website?: Yep. Been there for a while now.

IC:
Name: Jason Wright
Nickname: Jas *pronounced Jace.
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Appearance: He wears, like always, his Official Vault 21 Jumpsuit. Above it the science lab coat with the pocket on the left. He pulls the sleeves down really low, and always wears the boots that go with the Official Vault 21 Jumpsuit. Despite ripping the Pipboy off his arm years ago, he still keeps the version he tinkered with down to more of an electronic camera in his pocket of the lab coat.

Personality: Jason, like all children coming from Vault 21, has a gambling addiction. He will gamble for anything, even if it's his life. Never been a coward, he is never going to become one. He rarely shies away from an opportunity to make a few caps. Extremely sarcastic, but this proves to get him in trouble sometimes.

In-game RP example:
Jason Wright: Jason slams his hand down on the table, revealing a full house.

James Queen: "Pah! Jason you're a cheating *******!"

Jason W: "No, my dear friend Queen, you're just terrible."

James Queen: James draws a switch blade and holds it menacingly in the air.

Jason W: "How rude of you, James. Unfortunately I pack a bit more higher caliber." Jason draws his .357 from the inside of his lab coat.

James Queen: James backs off, running from the table, leaving behind his bag of caps.

Jason W: Jas takes the bag of caps inside of his coat and leaves the building.

Background: The holotape crackles to life in your Pip-boy 3000. It starts with the sound of heavy breathing, and a "plump" sound. A voice starts talking, "What a life yours has been so far, Jason. Tell us aaaaalllll about it." The sound of a switchblade being drawn is heard. The voice continues, "Quickly now, friend. Before any blood is shed."

A sigh is heard, and who you assume is this 'Jason' fellow starts speaking, "Pablo, my friend, it all started during my birth. As the doctor cut the umbilical cord from my mother's 'ahem' womanly-parts, I started crying. The bright light hurt my eyes, I suppose. During that time I was only an infant, incapable of speaking, of course. I'll skip to my younger years of childhood. My dad, good old dad.." Outside of the little fortification you have made out of spare metal plates you hear a scratching noise. No need to care, though. You continue to listen to the holotape. "Dad taught me all I know about gambling. Especially because his dad was. And so was his dad. And his before him. All gamblers. So he decided to teach me what everybody else in the vault did. If you are too dim, it was gambling." Jason takes a quick breath. "I was about 4 or 5 at the time, so I was more interested in the Fancy Lad Snack Cakes he would reward me with for winning a game against him. I know now that he was letting me win, but it gave me a sense of confidence against other opponents. I knew if I kept my thoughts clear of anything but winning the game and the rewards, I'd do well."

You are surprised to hear the other man, Pablo, speak again, "You're an ass Jason. You're keep us away from what you know we want."

"I'll get to that."

"It's not quick enough."

"Fine! My teenage years it is then. When I was 14, I was in a very heated session of poker of who had possession of such a beautiful girl. She was quite a sight, that one. But my memory fails me to remember her name now. Sarah? Maybe. I don't care, though. She must be long gone. Anyways, during this poker game- Ouch! Stop poking me with that damn knife you nit-wit!"

A deep chuckle is heard, "Heh-heh. The boss said I can do what I want to you, and I want to poke you."

"Whatever! During this poker game, I was clearly winning. My opponent, or should I say, late opponent, failed to keep a calm head. He slammed his balled fists on the table, knocking my cards out of my hand. Showing my winning hand, he slapped me across the face. Despite this, I kept my poker-face, stepped up to him, and knocked him out cold. Unfortunately he held a grudge for many years and attempted to -eh- murder me in my sleep. Failure of an operation that was. He tripped on the baseball I had lying by my bed. I took said bat, and beat him to death with it in the middle of the night. Vault security walks in, and sees me beating somebody with a bat, like *I* was the bad guy here. That was what they though, and kicked me out of the vault. Didn't even let me say good bye to anybody! Just opened the door and pushed me out! There! You happy now, Pablo?"

Pablo speaks with a now more obvious accent to you, "No. Tell me why you came here."

A quick cough is heard and Jason continues talking, "Fool, Pablo. You are a fool. You know you have what you want. Let me go."

"Never! You'll tell your story and die!"

The snapping of a chair leg is heard and the "OOMPH!" of a man is heard. Gun shots are heard, and the 'click' sound of a holotape shutting off is heard. You fumble around with the second holotape and pop it in and listen. All you hear at first are footsteps and heavy breathing.

"Fools will never find me. If my Pip-Boy is right, I'm nearing Utah. I think I'm getting close to Salt Lake City... Traveling for weeks, now. If I can get one more traveling caravan to let me stay with them.."

The holotape makes the broken skipping noise, and clicks back off. After fumbling with it for a few minutes, it remains broken. Oh well. You have more important things to do.

*Powers up Vault-Boy 3000*


((On a note, I was already accepted. I edited three things from the original. You can find that one on page 2))

OOC:

IGN: coolman166

Age:14, will be 15 Nov 6, 2013

What RolePlay experience do you have, other than Akavir?:I played on multiple RP servers.

Define Meta-gaming in your words: Applying OOC acquired information whilst IC.


Define Power-gaming in your words:Forcing actions upon another player without giving him a chance to react or fight back.

Define God-Modding in your words:Doing something inhuman or impossible. I.E Lifting a tree straight out of the ground.



IC:
Name: Jurien
Nickname: N/A
Age:34
Gender: Male
Race: Nord

Appearance: Jurien wears a brown overcoat ontop of a tan-gray undershirt. On his shoulders lay pads that protect him from minor wounds, which also assist him in holding heavy objects on his shoulders. He stands about 6'5 up tall. He has shaggy red hair, and a completely magnificent beard.

Personality: Jurien is quiet most of the time. When he does talk, it's sometimes useful, sometimes something stupid. His stands tall most of the time to keep himself looking like the bigger man.

Example of in-game RP conflict between two characters:
Jurien: /me draws his steel sword from his belt

Bandit: /me draws his iron dagger from his sheathe

Jurien: /me stabs forward, aiming at the Bandit's left arm.

Bandit: /me gets hit, and steps back, holding his left arm in agony.

Jurien: /me advances forward, kicking at the head of the Bandit

Bandit: /me gets kicked in the head, forcing him onto the ground.

Jurien: /me swings downwards on the Bandit's neck, hoping to decapitate him.

Bandit: /me is defenseless and is decapitated.

Background: Jurien was born in Skyrim, the hold of Whiterun in Rorikstead.. His mother's name was Gustafa and his father's name was Hock. Gustafa was an intelligent woman with black, flowing hair and gray eyes, like Jurien's. She was often in the kitchen, preparing the most delightful meals the family ever tasted! It went from pastas to meats that Hock hunted. Hock was a hunter. He was the one who showed Jurien everything he knows about hunting. From elks to bears, Jurien can kill one. Hock was a large man, broad shoulders and red hair, like Jurien's. Jurien was just a young lad when his father gave him a bow and a dagger. Hock said, "Son, if you ever want to make it anywhere in this world, you have to be good at something. I am giving you the option of hunting." They went off to hunt together, Hock finding things to hunt and having Jurien shoot them dead. Jurien describes the best days of his life hunting with his father. Many years passed, and Jurien was 15. His life had been pretty uneventful, as you imagined. He woke up in the morning, put on his boots, got his bow and dagger (which had been upgraded as he got older), and set out to hunt. Each and every morning. One morning, it was different. He waited to wake up, and when he did, his father was waiting for him.

"Why are you not out hunting, son?" Hock said, not angrily, but curious. Jurien replied, "I want to see the world, father. Visit Windhelm, Whiterun, and maybe even Markarth!" His father sighed, knowing this day was going to come eventually. "Come with me," Hock said, turning around and unlocking the basement door. Jurien was never allowed in the basement. "The world is a tough place, Jurien. You know that by now. Catch!" Hock threw a sword at Jurien, which Jurien caught, due to his reflexes from all the years he hunted. "I'm going to teach you to fight. You are going to need the skills out in the world." And so Hock, like before, taught his son another skill. Jurien was soon proficient in the blade as he was in archery. Mind you, this took months for him to perfect. Hock went to the town stables, and got his horse, handing the reins to Jurien. "You will need him. His name is Murdey."((Mur-day))"He was once mine, though I do have another." Hock indicates to a white horse. "Murdey knows Skyrim like no other horse I have ever ridden upon. He will take you anywhere in the fastest time he can." Jurien said, "Thank you, father, for all you have given me, and now I must pay you back in kind." He drew a blade from his side, the steel glimmering in the sunshine. He hands it to Hock, who inspects it carefully. "You tempered this yourself? It looks as if it was made by a professional." Jurien shrugs his shoulders, indicating it was no big deal for him. "This is why you wanted to leave.. to become a smith." Jurien makes a simple 'Mmhm' sound. "You could have just asked. I'm no smith, but I know a few tricks." Jurien digs in his pocket, "Have a look at this." He hands Hock a letter. It reads:

Dear Jurien, it has come to my attention that you want to be a smith! Laggerd told me that, if you are not sure how I knew. If you want to learn my trade, come to Whiterun. I run a smith that used to be run by my aunt. I can teach you everything I know.

-A friend from Whiterun

"If this is how you want it." Hock says, "Then go ahead. Just make sure you visit!" Jurien hugs his father, and rides away on his horse. He learned the trade of being a smith from the friend in Whiterun. After he learned to be a smith, disaster struck. He fled with the rest of Whiterun, to Akavir.

During his time in Akavir he had quite an experience. Becoming involved with the Tuktura Ugakta hardened the man into a warrior. He worked with Ka'zaad and Kargar, until the latter died. Ka'zaad and Jurien were the last surviving members of the Tuktura( OOC: Unless you want to count those who were afk 5ever). Ka'zaad one day came to Jurien and said, "I have your share, Jurien."

"My share?"

"Aye. Come with me"

Ka'zaad led Jurien to a room with two chests. They were equally full of gold. Jurien smiled, and patted one of the chests.

"It's yours. Do with it what you want."

And he did. Jurien set sail on a barge back to Skyrim, his homeland to visit his family. He said hello to his father and his mother, and went off and purchased a farm. He immediately learned he did not know how to properly farm. He spent about two years milling about on his farm, without actually farming. He just wandered about, reading books and poetry. It was after those two years that he started thinking about Akavir again. The idea only sparked in his mind because of the lack of Akavir trade ships. When Akavir trade ships starting coming and going again, he did exactly what any rationally thinking man would do.



He burnt down his farm and left on the next ship to Akavir. He spent weeks on the ship, eagerly awaiting to get to Akavir.


How your character survived Akavir: Jurien was in Skyrim at the time of the start of the Infernal Age, so he had nothing to worry about. Jurien had planned to leave weeks before the floods in Valguard, and he had. His ship and his gold has left with him to go back to Skyrim weeks before the flooding. The entire time on his ship, nobody knew about what was happening in Akavir. The only thing the crewmates knew was that Valguard was under new rule by a Redguard. Jurien would just chuckle when he heard people talking about that. He'd frown, however, when they talked about the death of the Orsimer that was King. He knew King Kargar Gro'Valguard was assassinated by the Imperials.

Jurien stepped off the ship, onto the docks of Solitude. His first decision was to purchase a farm. His second decision was to never, ever try to farm again, seeing as he was awful at it. He had a farmhouse, books, poetry, and food. Not much else was required for him. Jurien was a simple man. He spent two years in Skyrim. What got him wondering about Akavir again was the fact that trade ships stopped arriving in Skyrim. He waited for news of ships to arrive once more, and paid for passage from Skyrim to Akavir.


How your character survived Akavir: Jurien was in Skyrim at the time of the start of the Infernal Age, so he had nothing to worry about. Jurien had planned to leave weeks before the floods in Valguard, and he had. His ship and his gold has left with him to go back to Skyrim weeks before the flooding. The entire time on his ship, nobody knew about what was happening in Akavir. The only thing the crewmates knew was that Valguard was under new rule by a Redguard. Jurien would just chuckle when he heard people talking about that. He'd frown, however, when they talked about the death of the Orsimer that was King. He knew King Kargar Gro'Valguard was assassinated by the Imperials.

Jurien stepped off the ship, onto the docks of Solitude. His first decision was to purchase a farm. His second decision was to never, ever try to farm again, seeing as he was awful at it. He had a farmhouse, books, poetry, and food. Not much else was required for him. Jurien was a simple man. He spent two years in Skyrim. What got him wondering about Akavir again was the fact that trade ships stopped arriving in Skyrim. He waited for news of ships to arrive once more, and paid for passage from Skyrim to Akavir.


The poor fools who take skooma do not know that it usually ends in their demise.

IGN: coolman166

Looking at your channel, my heart filled with glee when I read "Battlefield 4"

Time to get the popcorn.

My first Minecraft day?


DAY 1

As I awoke on the beach, I looked about. I was mad at my mouse sensitivity so I put it all the way up. The grass is neon green. (R.I.P Alpha Grass) The trees leaves are not quite fond of the human eye. It also appears to have no sound (something I'd fix later). I wandered about, spamming left click. I finally learned to hold it down, by testing on dirt. Figuring trees can be used for something I got punched wood until my knuckles bled. I excitedly held a newly acquired stack of logs. That was the bright side. The bad side was the fact it was starting to become night. I couldn't really see, so I made a 1x3 hole, and covered the top of the hole. I made a little hole to see when it was day every so often.

DAY 2

Hopping out of my hole, I attempt to make a makeshift cabin/hut/another hole in the side of a mountain by punching with my fist. Going into my inventory after going to the options-> controls, I figured out 'I' was inventory(duh!). I put various things into the 'crafting' boxes, finally getting the option for wooden planks. Using all my wood for these planks, I tried crafting with my wooden planks. I made a crafting table, and placed it on the ground. I got some more wood from the forest next to me, and made some sticks from when I made a crafting table, but had the option to make sticks. With these sticks and planks, I made some top-quality wooden tools. I ventured into a cave and attempted battle with a green camouflaged monster. He blew up, and as did I.



R.I.P Me.

Call wolves dogs. I think it is something everyone does.

I also call diamonds "raw sword"

Our spawn, from an aerial view.



We are Royal Tussle! A UK hosted server, but with great ping to most people in America! (I am an American posting on behalf of the owners, just to prove that ping is great no matter where you are.)

To achieve certain ranks and gain privileges, you must play on the server for a certain amount of hours.

Newbies: 0 Hours
Regular: 12 Hours
Builder: 72 Hours


Moderator and Admin are able to be acquired through playing often and being a helpful player to others often.

Plugins:

AreaProtect
Lockette
PlayerHeads
MobHeads
Spleef
iConomy
(And a bunch more boring ones not really worth mentioning.)

We have Survival, Creative, and a Mining world!

Minigames:

Prophunt
Survival Games
Spleef
Piggy Races (Coming soon!)
Parkour
Mob Arena( Coming Soon!)
Taking suggestions for any more minigames!



RoyalTussle.nn.pe:25595


Hope to see you there!