Wonderful app, very interesting character! Note that you won't be able to start with your character's lute, unfortunately. Can't wait to see you online!
If accepted, will contact a mutually known member of staff for this
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Oh man, I’ve been roleplaying for almost 5 years now. I used to moderate on Aeonis way back in the day, and I’ve been between servers as they come and go since then.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words:
Power gaming is like an action form of Mary Sue/Gary Stu, in which a character is made out to be much more powerful than they actually are. This can include anything from forcing other players to do actions by strongarming them (e.g Gary: *Gary slices off Guy’s head. Guy is dead now*) or doing actions their character wouldn’t be able to do otherwise (e.g Gary: *Gary conjures up the energy of those around them, holding his arms above his head as he prepares for a massive attack*). Death avoidance can peek into the realm of power gaming occasionally.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
Meta gaming is as simple as using information that your character would not know otherwise for IC reasons. This could be as simple as your character knowing a tidbit of history they wouldn’t or couldn’t know (e.g the history of the ancients), or as complex as knowing the location and passcode to your friend’s secret base hidden far beyond reach.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Kidron
-Character race: Dark Elf
-Character age: 100
-Character Occupation:
Hunting, mercenary work, guard, whatever sends extra coin his way (as long as it doesn’t involve excessive entanglement). His curiosity may get the better of him on occasion, however.
-Character description:
Standing at six feet, one inch in height, Kidron is not a small man when compared to his rather human dominated dwellings. His over-all muscle structure resembles that of a well-practiced human; he is no hulking brute, however. A darker complexion hides him well in shadow, although his white hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail, often proves a disadvantage. Like most Elves, his facial features are of those sought after by the usually rather ugly human race, something that he often takes advantage of for fun, or work.
He hides his scars of war and hardship underneath clothing and armour, and has unusually (but not drastically) pointed incisors.
-Character personality and traits:
His personality is often best equated to the dark hurry of winter waters. Quick, silent, curious to open opportunities, and deadly if not respected. With no real affiliation, he keeps to himself and tends to be neutral to all happenings, although he may entangle himself if he feels it will be entertaining or worthwhile for future ventures. His central personality would best be described as “Exception driven”, for he may not steal usually, but there could arise a situation where it would benefit him too much to pass the opportunity. Although seemingly immoral, deviant, and often plainly selfish, he maintains empathy highly to those he may find acquaintance in (rarely does this happen however). His nearly dominating senses of curiosity and sport leave him to enjoy taverns, and he often populates them as a guard, or even a bartender on one occasion.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Formerly a simple man from a simple family, Kidron refuses to remember the mundane tranquility that existed before the war. His life before existed of keeping the land, hunting, and other various homestead tasks. His father was a traveler in his days, and shared with his sons often the knowledge and wisdom of his travels. Kidron was the youngest of the 3 brothers, and by the time the war hit his own homestead, he was already a man. The first interaction with the Pact was small, and merely consisted of Goblins that were too quick to stop from destroying their crops before escaping. Being the best hunter in his family, he took it upon himself to track down the then-unknown culprits and bring them to responsibility for their actions. What he discovered was a full wave of Pact monstrosities, with creatures he had only heard from far-off legends that his father had heard on his former travels.
With the speed, force, and gracefulness of rushing wind, he returned to his home as soon as he possibly could. What he found was incomprehensible; his entire family was gone, uprooted. Only his belongings remained. With little time to dwell on the implications of this, he simply gathered his belongings and what little supply was left and made way towards a human town he vaguely knew the location of due to former trade trips with his father.
He could tell when he arrived that conflict was in the air. The war panic had caused the humans to be on edge, and incredibly militant against freeloaders. So, he leant himself out as a mercenary, a rather active job opportunity at that time, as the humans still had money to spend on cannon fodder. It was that year he fought his first battle, and nearly lost his life. Had it not been for his speed, he would have never escaped. He continued this cycle of travel, battle, and defeat for decades, staying nearly constantly on the front lines of the retreating front of war.
When the Elves finally joined the war, he retreated from his job as a sell-sword and took a personal vendetta against the Pact, arranging an attack with other sell-sword comrades that killed every single one except for him. So he moved on to the path of isolation, removing his antiquated pre-war morals with ones that would suit his needs, and his needs alone. He would take jobs that others would not do, which seemed to be common in more places than others. The impending doom upon some human townships caused massive infighting, and Kidron allowed himself to be a tool to such practices, as long as the coin was right and the job was somewhat entertaining.
As the war drew to a close, however, Kidron feared for his life as there were little settlements that had not been overtaken. At the word of the fall of the Dwarven capital, he vanished from all sight, retreating far into the woods where he may train and study. Some had tried to sing him what he thought was a siren’s song, telling of a safe haven of refugees where the defeated would end up, and decades in seclusion, made his travels to discover Barkamsted.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios.:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
An instant frown found it’s home as he felt the deft, but untrained and amateur hands brush against his side. With a few long strides, he was upon the child as the child attempted to escape in an alleyway. His arm lifted him as a strong wind would lift paper, holding him by the offending arm: “It is stupid to steal from those more experienced than yourself. Explain your actions, child.”
The child, nearly soiling himself in the powerful presence of an otherwise ordinary looking man, struggled to find words, drowning in the fear of the soon to come. “M-my family…”
Kidron smirked and gave a brief chuckle: “Is your family worth the loss of your hands?” He shook his head and removed the coin purse from his clutching, disgusting hands, and threw the child aside forcefully. “Do not steal from me again, or you will have no hands to steal.” He tossed aside two coins, worth a small amount, but just enough to help the boy. With a silent force, Kidron turned and strode out of the alleyway, back into the throng of the crowd.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Kidron crouched low, approaching the situation with a mindful eye. His eyes found themselves upon a wolf with fur not too dissimilar to his own hair, caught in a trap that he oft has to avoid in these parts of the woods; far enough out to be beyond the average travel of a layman that would get trapped in it, but close enough to be within a somewhat safe distance from Barkamsted. He knew this part of the woods well, and the generally favorable reaction to those who kill wolves.
Aware of the way that wolves often act as pest, Kidron plotted his actions. Pulling his dagger, his silent feet led him to his target.He went unnoticed, for the pups attention had been consumed by the danger of the mother. It was only when he was upon them did the mother finally realize the approach, and by then it was too late. With a swift action, he stuck out and dispatched all four of the wolves in a fashion so that he would damage their pelts in a very minor way.
Kidron quietly gathered the animals onto a spare piece of twine after being field gutted, and made his way back to the city with his hunt, making sure to pass by a farm or two on his way back, assuring himself a free meal if not a trade offer.
Country of residence and time zone:'Murica (USA) : CST
Define role playing in your own words, do you have any past role playing experiences? Role playing is the portraying of a 'role-play' persona or character through text, action, or game medium. I have about... 2 years of RP experience, most of it coming from my time on the now closed server 'Kingdom of Aeonis', on which I was a moderator for a time (the server shut down about 3 or 4 months after I became a moderator). Other than Aeonis, I've had constant time to RP on smaller, more underground servers (*server hipster right here*).
What is your reason for applying to this server? I saw an old community that really introduced me into RPing come back to life, and being intelligent as I am, I said to myself; "... There isn't any other good servers with people I know out there, and I don't want to go through having to get to know everyone again, so I'll RP here. It looks pretty chill."
Have you been banned before, if so why? That would be a nope.
Do you agree with our rules, how about the lore? Lore is fine, but could use a bit of refining so it doesn't look like a massive glob of text. I tried getting some friends into this server and they were intimidated by the main wall of lore. I, myself, had no problem with it, but others might be scared away by it. Rules are also fine, but I'd suggest adding a couple more RP-breakable items (dirt, wood, wooden doors, ect. ).
Will you use the server's official texture pack? Damn straight I will. That thing is so nostalgic it's nostalgia has nostalgia.
Define Powergaming in your own words, example: Powergaming is essentially force-RPing without consent of the other party/parties involved in said RP. Example; "Bob jumps down from the tree, slitting Joe's throat. Joe proceeds to bleed out and die."
Define Metagaming in your own words, example:
Metagaming is using OoC knowledge in IC situations, also known as 'Breaking the Fourth Wall'. Example: Bob tells his skype friend Joe over call where his character's base is, and the secret code to the door of the base. Joe then heads home, gets on Minecraft, and ICly goes to Bob's base, enters the code, and steals all of this things (which Bob also told him about over skype). His character had no IC knowlege otherwise to the situation. In Character
Character name: (Last names aren't required) Marcus Allen
Your character's story so far: Pain. So much pain. Marcus awoke amid a blaze, his whole box of a room filling with the deadly smoke of a hot, painful death. What was happening? He shot up from his bed, confused as why his room was on fire. But he didn't have time to think, as he soon took notice to the chorus of screams that sounded over the seemingly maniacal cackle of the flames. Taking action, he threw on his favorite overcoat and lifted his empty side-table, tossing it through the wall, providing an opening for fresh air in the furnace that was once his room. He ran outside, his clothes and hair being singed by the still-burning flames that came from the wall. He looked around; raiders. Rebels everywhere, tossing Molotov's and essentially raiding and decimating the small already-ravaged town. He was not the only one that was thrown into this situation, however. In the time when radio and electric was lost, most of the once some-what organized chaos that was their world collapsed into a hell of raiders and collapsing societies as the world tried to hold onto the strands of organization it had left. He was 18 at the time.
Marcus always thought that perhaps it was for the best that organized society ended. Perhaps the corporate machines that ran the world would see that greed only brings death and destruction. And the survivors of the years after would pay the sins for the years to come. The ultimate atonement for the sins of the greedy. And perhaps it would lead to a better world. A world were all are free and none are left to rot. Or perhaps history would repeat itself, and humans would finally destroy this planet once and for all. Who is to say? Certainly not Marcus. For he was just a wanderer in the shadows.
After the fire that consumed his small town and presumably his family, who he had lost in the chaos of that night, Marcus soon sought for permanent shelter from the fallout of meteors and destruction to come. He found an underground shelter, presumably made by the people who spent their lives prepping for situations like this. It was likely that the owner of the shelter died in the chaos that consumed the planet before he could make his way to the shelter. It didn't really matter to Marcus, however. It was shelter, and it lasted him through the years of radiation. Every day in the tiny shelter, however, he felt a small pang of sorrow for those who had to suffer through the horrible conditions that the machinery in the shelter described in menacing text and numbers.
It was on his 8th year in the shelter, marked year 2056 by the calender that provided the only sense of date, that the shelter ceased functioning. Taking all he could, including radiation sickness pills, water cleansers, a gas mask, among other things, he left the shelter into the radioactive hell that became the planet. Due to a surface survival book that he found in the 'library' of the shelter, he knew how to avoid radiation and starvation. And so it was that he lasted on the surface for a number of years, being blessed with the gift and burden of life. He would carry around a small hand-cranked radio and flashlight combination, in hopes that he found a signal one day. That day would not come for 6 more years, and for those 6 years he gathered the skills and weapons that accompanied him to this day. It was mostly a blur, being constant with the struggles of life and the wandering of scorched Earth.
In the midst of the year 2062, he found what he had hoped for; Civilization. A place to trade, rest, and hone his skills without the constant moving and struggle of night. Along with civilization came the realization that radio was operable again. The small transceiver he owned was enough to get him a small, friendly programmed bat that a local shop owner had put together personally. Marcus bought it, seeing it as a valuable and useful companion. It could perform recon ahead while he walked behind. It was perfect for his line of work.
The next 3 years passed by uneventfully, but Marcus was relieved to find that his somewhat silly thought that he was the only one left was not true. He didn't really expect it to be true, either. If he had that shelter, who else would? There was bound to be more than just one apocalypse shelter. It was no matter however. He soon left the town, traveling on and finding a new one to stay at. After a while, he would leave again and travel to a new one. It was a constant cycle, and it was doubted it would be interrupted. Only time would tell.
Does or did your character have any companions or family? Besides the lovely company of his mechanical bat, his swords, and his pistols, that would be a no for now. His family, as said in the bio above, disappeared and is presumed dead.
How old is your character? 35
Describe what your character looks like, any distinctive physical features? Marcus is a muscular, well-built man. His shorter, grey hair resembles someone of older age. Other than scattered scars of earlier battles with the night, his appearance is unremarkable.
How does your character act? He acts like a lone wolf, and will usually avoid petty troubles of others. If someone's life is endangered or it is a more serious trouble, he will step in to intervene, but not at the cost of his own life. He works in the shadows, silent and steadfast.
Character's occupation: Marcus is mostly a wanderer, but will bunker down every once in a while and do mercenary or guard work. He won't stay in one place for long, however.
Does your character have an education? (Read or write): He has intermediate reading skills, and can write. This is due to his parent's 'home-tutoring'.
Any special skills that your character has, nothing unbalanced: Marcus is agile and strong, being able to 'stalk' people for somewhat extended periods of time. His swordsmanship and marksmanship are not mastered, but he has skill.
Does your character hate or fear anything? He hates the creatures of the night, and people who act like them. Though shady in his own appearance, he despises thieves and murderers. He is fearful of fire and burning things, thought to be a complex from when his house burnt down.
Describe an example of your character in great suffering and pain (RP, and Long): It was the midst of night. Marcus was stalking along, careful to avoid the creatures of the night; robot, human, and mutant alike. It was a normal night for him. A night filled with suspense and danger, his only accomplices being his swords and his dual Colt 1911's chambered in 45 ACP. He didn't need anyone else. He was fine with this, because having anyone else with him would me responsibility for another person.
A 'hss' sounded from behind him, and he spun around to see a deadly SAB. Jumping out of the way just in time, he was only clipped by the shockwave of the blast. None the less, he let out a shout of pain, being thrown to the ground.
As he tried to get up, the familiar sounds of mutants joined by raiders filled the forest around him. It was a trap. He should have seen this! He got up quickly, running into the treeline as he pulled out one of his 'kanto's, and began to slash at anything that moved.
He was scraped and pounded by mutants that he passed, and he almost made it out if it weren't for the raider that suddenly appeared from behind. He of course couldn't see the far-gone human, but he certainly felt the sting of a bullet entering his leg.
Marcus toppled forward, as blood began to leak from his wound. He didn't hesitate to pull out his guns, and fire at the creatures that soon surrounded him. His guns soon clicked for ammo, and in his blood deprivation, his mind was too foggy to remember where he kept his spare mags. His vision began to fade, darkness threatening to take over his mind.
Marcus could only hang on for what seemed to be an eternity, and he drifted into a dreamlike state. He dreamed of his family, his childhood. How well his life was and how this hell that he lived in now was once make-shift serenity. He was sitting at his rag-tag kitchen table, coloring on recycled fliers that described curfew hours on the other side. He was too young at the time to know what it meant.
Suddenly, the house around him began to flame, and it burned like leaves in a furnace. Marcus sat, choking in the smoke for a seemingly infinite time. He closed his eyes, and as the small child he was in the dream, he begged for the pain and suffering to stop. The flames seemed to consume him, burn every inch of skin he had. The ashes seemed to melt his lungs, burning and scaring them painfully. He continued to beg in hoarse gasps, though no words came out.
Marcus awoke from his dream, looking around slowly. He was still alive. It was day. He tried to sit up, and flinched hard as he felt his wounds pull at themselves and the bandages that were now on him contact. He slowly lifted his hand, feeling a small paper note inside of his palm. He unfolded the note, slowly and painfully, and it read; 'You're welcome - A stranger". Marcus had an epiphany at this point. He now vowed to help anyone in need of help, to repay the kind deeds of a stranger that day.
Anything else to add? Marcus can and will disappear for extended periods of time, due to the rather large porkchops in mah earlobes
Country of residence and time zone:'Murica (USA) : CST
Define role playing in your own words, do you have any past role playing experiences? Role playing is the portraying of a 'role-play' persona or character through text, action, or game medium. I have about... 2 years of RP experience, most of it coming from my time on the now closed server 'Kingdom of Aeonis', on which I was a moderator for a time (the server shut down about 3 or 4 months after I became a moderator). Other than Aeonis, I've had constant time to RP on smaller, more underground servers (*server hipster right here*).
What is your reason for applying to this server? I saw an old community that really introduced me into RPing come back to life, and being intelligent as I am, I said to myself; "... There isn't any other good servers with people I know out there, and I don't want to go through having to get to know everyone again, so I'll RP here. It looks pretty chill."
Have you been banned before, if so why? That would be a nope.
Do you agree with our rules, how about the lore? Lore is fine, but could use a bit of refining so it doesn't look like a massive glob of text. I tried getting some friends into this server and they were intimidated by the main wall of lore. I, myself, had no problem with it, but others might be scared away by it. Rules are also fine, but I'd suggest adding a couple more RP-breakable items (dirt, wood, wooden doors, ect. ).
Will you use the server's official texture pack? Damn straight I will. That thing is so nostalgic it's nostalgia has nostalgia.
Define Powergaming in your own words, example: Powergaming is essentially force-RPing without consent of the other party/parties involved in said RP. Example; "Bob jumps down from the tree, slitting Joe's throat. Joe proceeds to bleed out and die."
Define Metagaming in your own words, example:
Metagaming is using OoC knowledge in IC situations, also known as 'Breaking the Fourth Wall'. Example: Bob tells his skype friend Joe over call where his character's base is, and the secret code to the door of the base. Joe then heads home, gets on Minecraft, and ICly goes to Bob's base, enters the code, and steals all of this things (which Bob also told him about over skype). His character had no IC knowlege otherwise to the situation. In Character
Character name: (Last names aren't required) Marcus Allen
Your character's story so far: Pain. So much pain. Marcus awoke amid a blaze, his whole box of a room filling with the deadly smoke of a hot, painful death. What was happening? He shot up from his bed, confused as why his room was on fire. But he didn't have time to think, as he soon took notice to the chorus of screams that sounded over the seemingly maniacal cackle of the flames. Taking action, he threw on his favorite overcoat and lifted his empty side-table, tossing it through the wall, providing an opening for fresh air in the furnace that was once his room. He ran outside, his clothes and hair being singed by the still-burning flames that came from the wall. He looked around; raiders. Rebels everywhere, tossing Molotov's and essentially raiding and decimating the small already-ravaged town. He was not the only one that was thrown into this situation, however. In the time when radio and electric was lost, most of the once some-what organized chaos that was their world collapsed into a hell of raiders and collapsing societies as the world tried to hold onto the strands of organization it had left. He was 18 at the time.
Marcus always thought that perhaps it was for the best that organized society ended. Perhaps the corporate machines that ran the world would see that greed only brings death and destruction. And the survivors of the years after would pay the sins for the years to come. The ultimate atonement for the sins of the greedy. And perhaps it would lead to a better world. A world were all are free and none are left to rot. Or perhaps history would repeat itself, and humans would finally destroy this planet once and for all. Who is to say? Certainly not Marcus. For he was just a wanderer in the shadows.
After the fire that consumed his small town and presumably his family, who he had lost in the chaos of that night, Marcus soon sought for permanent shelter from the fallout of meteors and destruction to come. He found an underground shelter, presumably made by the people who spent their lives prepping for situations like this. It was likely that the owner of the shelter died in the chaos that consumed the planet before he could make his way to the shelter. It didn't really matter to Marcus, however. It was shelter, and it lasted him through the years of radiation. Every day in the tiny shelter, however, he felt a small pang of sorrow for those who had to suffer through the horrible conditions that the machinery in the shelter described in menacing text and numbers.
It was on his 8th year in the shelter, marked year 2056 by the calender that provided the only sense of date, that the shelter ceased functioning. Taking all he could, including radiation sickness pills, water cleansers, a gas mask, among other things, he left the shelter into the radioactive hell that became the planet. Due to a surface survival book that he found in the 'library' of the shelter, he knew how to avoid radiation and starvation. And so it was that he lasted on the surface for a number of years, being blessed with the gift and burden of life. He would carry around a small hand-cranked radio and flashlight combination, in hopes that he found a signal one day. That day would not come for 6 more years, and for those 6 years he gathered the skills and weapons that accompanied him to this day. It was mostly a blur, being constant with the struggles of life and the wandering of scorched Earth.
In the midst of the year 2062, he found what he had hoped for; Civilization. A place to trade, rest, and hone his skills without the constant moving and struggle of night. Along with civilization came the realization that radio was operable again. The small transceiver he owned was enough to get him a small, friendly programmed bat that a local shop owner had put together personally. Marcus bought it, seeing it as a valuable and useful companion. It could perform recon ahead while he walked behind. It was perfect for his line of work.
The next 3 years passed by uneventfully, but Marcus was relieved to find that his somewhat silly thought that he was the only one left was not true. He didn't really expect it to be true, either. If he had that shelter, who else would? There was bound to be more than just one apocalypse shelter. It was no matter however. He soon left the town, traveling on and finding a new one to stay at. After a while, he would leave again and travel to a new one. It was a constant cycle, and it was doubted it would be interrupted. Only time would tell.
Does or did your character have any companions or family? Besides the lovely company of his mechanical bat, his swords, and his pistols, that would be a no for now. His family, as said in the bio above, disappeared and is presumed dead.
How old is your character? 35
Describe what your character looks like, any distinctive physical features? Marcus is a muscular, well-built man. His shorter, grey hair resembles someone of older age. Other than scattered scars of earlier battles with the night, his appearance is unremarkable.
How does your character act? He acts like a lone wolf, and will usually avoid petty troubles of others. If someone's life is endangered or it is a more serious trouble, he will step in to intervene, but not at the cost of his own life. He works in the shadows, silent and steadfast.
Character's occupation: Marcus is mostly a wanderer, but will bunker down every once in a while and do mercenary or guard work. He won't stay in one place for long, however.
Does your character have an education? (Read or write): He has intermediate reading skills, and can write. This is due to his parent's 'home-tutoring'.
Any special skills that your character has, nothing unbalanced: Marcus is agile and strong, being able to 'stalk' people for somewhat extended periods of time. His swordsmanship and marksmanship are not mastered, but he has skill.
Does your character hate or fear anything? He hates the creatures of the night, and people who act like them. Though shady in his own appearance, he despises thieves and murderers. He is fearful of fire and burning things, thought to be a complex from when his house burnt down.
Describe an example of your character in great suffering and pain (RP, and Long): It was the midst of night. Marcus was stalking along, careful to avoid the creatures of the night; robot, human, and mutant alike. It was a normal night for him. A night filled with suspense and danger, his only accomplices being his swords and his dual Colt 1911's chambered in 45 ACP. He didn't need anyone else. He was fine with this, because having anyone else with him would me responsibility for another person.
A 'hss' sounded from behind him, and he spun around to see a deadly SAB. Jumping out of the way just in time, he was only clipped by the shockwave of the blast. None the less, he let out a shout of pain, being thrown to the ground.
As he tried to get up, the familiar sounds of mutants joined by raiders filled the forest around him. It was a trap. He should have seen this! He got up quickly, running into the treeline as he pulled out one of his 'kanto's, and began to slash at anything that moved.
He was scraped and pounded by mutants that he passed, and he almost made it out if it weren't for the raider that suddenly appeared from behind. He of course couldn't see the far-gone human, but he certainly felt the sting of a bullet entering his leg.
Marcus toppled forward, as blood began to leak from his wound. He didn't hesitate to pull out his guns, and fire at the creatures that soon surrounded him. His guns soon clicked for ammo, and in his blood deprivation, his mind was too foggy to remember where he kept his spare mags. His vision began to fade, darkness threatening to take over his mind.
Marcus could only hang on for what seemed to be an eternity, and he drifted into a dreamlike state. He dreamed of his family, his childhood. How well his life was and how this hell that he lived in now was once make-shift serenity. He was sitting at his rag-tag kitchen table, coloring on recycled fliers that described curfew hours on the other side. He was too young at the time to know what it meant.
Suddenly, the house around him began to flame, and it burned like leaves in a furnace. Marcus sat, choking in the smoke for a seemingly infinite time. He closed his eyes, and as the small child he was in the dream, he begged for the pain and suffering to stop. The flames seemed to consume him, burn every inch of skin he had. The ashes seemed to melt his lungs, burning and scaring them painfully. He continued to beg in hoarse gasps, though no words came out.
Marcus awoke from his dream, looking around slowly. He was still alive. It was day. He tried to sit up, and flinched hard as he felt his wounds pull at themselves and the bandages that were now on him contact. He slowly lifted his hand, feeling a small paper note inside of his palm. He unfolded the note, slowly and painfully, and it read; 'You're welcome - A stranger". Marcus had an epiphany at this point. He now vowed to help anyone in need of help, to repay the kind deeds of a stranger that day.
Anything else to add? Marcus can and will disappear for extended periods of time.
So yeah, me and my friend are looking for a small, nice little survival server. And when I say small, I mean around 1-10 people. Not much, but something to play around with. Neither of us have the machinery or the knowledge on how to host a server, so anyone willing to share a server would be a pretty awesome dude/dudette in my book.
IGN:Zach_Is_Awesome Age (Don't lie): 13 Timezone:Central Standard Time Skype: I will message you this if I'm accepted Building style: *shrug* Underground, hidden, and effective? Previous milestones and feats:I've build many things, most of them with legit materials. Mansions, underground bases, piston doors, novice redstone, that kind of thing. A short bio about yourself: *shrug* I'm a okay builder, I guess. I'm fun-loving, but serious when I need to be. I loved RW, and it was really the gateway of RP for me, so it's kinda sentimental to me, so I'm always willing to help with it, and I see this as a way to help. VIVA LA RUINED WORLD!~
Seriously -.-' That sucks Will it be coming back up?
It won't. Ruined World's family line has been killed off. The only thing that remains is a possible cousin. (AKA, the server Black_Doom was talking about )
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----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN:
MetallicMediator
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat):
If accepted, will contact a mutually known member of staff for this
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Oh man, I’ve been roleplaying for almost 5 years now. I used to moderate on Aeonis way back in the day, and I’ve been between servers as they come and go since then.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words:
Power gaming is like an action form of Mary Sue/Gary Stu, in which a character is made out to be much more powerful than they actually are. This can include anything from forcing other players to do actions by strongarming them (e.g Gary: *Gary slices off Guy’s head. Guy is dead now*) or doing actions their character wouldn’t be able to do otherwise (e.g Gary: *Gary conjures up the energy of those around them, holding his arms above his head as he prepares for a massive attack*). Death avoidance can peek into the realm of power gaming occasionally.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
Meta gaming is as simple as using information that your character would not know otherwise for IC reasons. This could be as simple as your character knowing a tidbit of history they wouldn’t or couldn’t know (e.g the history of the ancients), or as complex as knowing the location and passcode to your friend’s secret base hidden far beyond reach.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Kidron
-Character race: Dark Elf
-Character age: 100
-Character Occupation:
Hunting, mercenary work, guard, whatever sends extra coin his way (as long as it doesn’t involve excessive entanglement). His curiosity may get the better of him on occasion, however.
-Character description:
Standing at six feet, one inch in height, Kidron is not a small man when compared to his rather human dominated dwellings. His over-all muscle structure resembles that of a well-practiced human; he is no hulking brute, however. A darker complexion hides him well in shadow, although his white hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail, often proves a disadvantage. Like most Elves, his facial features are of those sought after by the usually rather ugly human race, something that he often takes advantage of for fun, or work.
He hides his scars of war and hardship underneath clothing and armour, and has unusually (but not drastically) pointed incisors.
-Character personality and traits:
His personality is often best equated to the dark hurry of winter waters. Quick, silent, curious to open opportunities, and deadly if not respected. With no real affiliation, he keeps to himself and tends to be neutral to all happenings, although he may entangle himself if he feels it will be entertaining or worthwhile for future ventures. His central personality would best be described as “Exception driven”, for he may not steal usually, but there could arise a situation where it would benefit him too much to pass the opportunity. Although seemingly immoral, deviant, and often plainly selfish, he maintains empathy highly to those he may find acquaintance in (rarely does this happen however). His nearly dominating senses of curiosity and sport leave him to enjoy taverns, and he often populates them as a guard, or even a bartender on one occasion.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Formerly a simple man from a simple family, Kidron refuses to remember the mundane tranquility that existed before the war. His life before existed of keeping the land, hunting, and other various homestead tasks. His father was a traveler in his days, and shared with his sons often the knowledge and wisdom of his travels. Kidron was the youngest of the 3 brothers, and by the time the war hit his own homestead, he was already a man. The first interaction with the Pact was small, and merely consisted of Goblins that were too quick to stop from destroying their crops before escaping. Being the best hunter in his family, he took it upon himself to track down the then-unknown culprits and bring them to responsibility for their actions. What he discovered was a full wave of Pact monstrosities, with creatures he had only heard from far-off legends that his father had heard on his former travels.
With the speed, force, and gracefulness of rushing wind, he returned to his home as soon as he possibly could. What he found was incomprehensible; his entire family was gone, uprooted. Only his belongings remained. With little time to dwell on the implications of this, he simply gathered his belongings and what little supply was left and made way towards a human town he vaguely knew the location of due to former trade trips with his father.
He could tell when he arrived that conflict was in the air. The war panic had caused the humans to be on edge, and incredibly militant against freeloaders. So, he leant himself out as a mercenary, a rather active job opportunity at that time, as the humans still had money to spend on cannon fodder. It was that year he fought his first battle, and nearly lost his life. Had it not been for his speed, he would have never escaped. He continued this cycle of travel, battle, and defeat for decades, staying nearly constantly on the front lines of the retreating front of war.
When the Elves finally joined the war, he retreated from his job as a sell-sword and took a personal vendetta against the Pact, arranging an attack with other sell-sword comrades that killed every single one except for him. So he moved on to the path of isolation, removing his antiquated pre-war morals with ones that would suit his needs, and his needs alone. He would take jobs that others would not do, which seemed to be common in more places than others. The impending doom upon some human townships caused massive infighting, and Kidron allowed himself to be a tool to such practices, as long as the coin was right and the job was somewhat entertaining.
As the war drew to a close, however, Kidron feared for his life as there were little settlements that had not been overtaken. At the word of the fall of the Dwarven capital, he vanished from all sight, retreating far into the woods where he may train and study. Some had tried to sing him what he thought was a siren’s song, telling of a safe haven of refugees where the defeated would end up, and decades in seclusion, made his travels to discover Barkamsted.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios.:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
An instant frown found it’s home as he felt the deft, but untrained and amateur hands brush against his side. With a few long strides, he was upon the child as the child attempted to escape in an alleyway. His arm lifted him as a strong wind would lift paper, holding him by the offending arm: “It is stupid to steal from those more experienced than yourself. Explain your actions, child.”
The child, nearly soiling himself in the powerful presence of an otherwise ordinary looking man, struggled to find words, drowning in the fear of the soon to come. “M-my family…”
Kidron smirked and gave a brief chuckle: “Is your family worth the loss of your hands?” He shook his head and removed the coin purse from his clutching, disgusting hands, and threw the child aside forcefully. “Do not steal from me again, or you will have no hands to steal.” He tossed aside two coins, worth a small amount, but just enough to help the boy. With a silent force, Kidron turned and strode out of the alleyway, back into the throng of the crowd.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Kidron crouched low, approaching the situation with a mindful eye. His eyes found themselves upon a wolf with fur not too dissimilar to his own hair, caught in a trap that he oft has to avoid in these parts of the woods; far enough out to be beyond the average travel of a layman that would get trapped in it, but close enough to be within a somewhat safe distance from Barkamsted. He knew this part of the woods well, and the generally favorable reaction to those who kill wolves.
Aware of the way that wolves often act as pest, Kidron plotted his actions. Pulling his dagger, his silent feet led him to his target.He went unnoticed, for the pups attention had been consumed by the danger of the mother. It was only when he was upon them did the mother finally realize the approach, and by then it was too late. With a swift action, he stuck out and dispatched all four of the wolves in a fashion so that he would damage their pelts in a very minor way.
Kidron quietly gathered the animals onto a spare piece of twine after being field gutted, and made his way back to the city with his hunt, making sure to pass by a farm or two on his way back, assuring himself a free meal if not a trade offer.
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Hmm... That P_Oxide guy and that Thedoomed guy look really fishy. Idk if you want them on your staff team honestly
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Whoops xD My bad.
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Minecraft account name: Zach_Is_Awesome
Country of residence and time zone: 'Murica (USA) : CST
Define role playing in your own words, do you have any past role playing experiences? Role playing is the portraying of a 'role-play' persona or character through text, action, or game medium. I have about... 2 years of RP experience, most of it coming from my time on the now closed server 'Kingdom of Aeonis', on which I was a moderator for a time (the server shut down about 3 or 4 months after I became a moderator). Other than Aeonis, I've had constant time to RP on smaller, more underground servers (*server hipster right here*).
What is your reason for applying to this server? I saw an old community that really introduced me into RPing come back to life, and being intelligent as I am, I said to myself; "... There isn't any other good servers with people I know out there, and I don't want to go through having to get to know everyone again, so I'll RP here. It looks pretty chill."
Have you been banned before, if so why? That would be a nope.
Do you agree with our rules, how about the lore? Lore is fine, but could use a bit of refining so it doesn't look like a massive glob of text. I tried getting some friends into this server and they were intimidated by the main wall of lore. I, myself, had no problem with it, but others might be scared away by it. Rules are also fine, but I'd suggest adding a couple more RP-breakable items (dirt, wood, wooden doors, ect. ).
Will you use the server's official texture pack? Damn straight I will. That thing is so nostalgic it's nostalgia has nostalgia.
Define Powergaming in your own words, example: Powergaming is essentially force-RPing without consent of the other party/parties involved in said RP. Example; "Bob jumps down from the tree, slitting Joe's throat. Joe proceeds to bleed out and die."
Define Metagaming in your own words, example:
Metagaming is using OoC knowledge in IC situations, also known as 'Breaking the Fourth Wall'. Example: Bob tells his skype friend Joe over call where his character's base is, and the secret code to the door of the base. Joe then heads home, gets on Minecraft, and ICly goes to Bob's base, enters the code, and steals all of this things (which Bob also told him about over skype). His character had no IC knowlege otherwise to the situation.
In Character
Character name: (Last names aren't required) Marcus Allen
Your character's story so far: Pain. So much pain. Marcus awoke amid a blaze, his whole box of a room filling with the deadly smoke of a hot, painful death. What was happening? He shot up from his bed, confused as why his room was on fire. But he didn't have time to think, as he soon took notice to the chorus of screams that sounded over the seemingly maniacal cackle of the flames. Taking action, he threw on his favorite overcoat and lifted his empty side-table, tossing it through the wall, providing an opening for fresh air in the furnace that was once his room. He ran outside, his clothes and hair being singed by the still-burning flames that came from the wall. He looked around; raiders. Rebels everywhere, tossing Molotov's and essentially raiding and decimating the small already-ravaged town. He was not the only one that was thrown into this situation, however. In the time when radio and electric was lost, most of the once some-what organized chaos that was their world collapsed into a hell of raiders and collapsing societies as the world tried to hold onto the strands of organization it had left. He was 18 at the time.
Marcus always thought that perhaps it was for the best that organized society ended. Perhaps the corporate machines that ran the world would see that greed only brings death and destruction. And the survivors of the years after would pay the sins for the years to come. The ultimate atonement for the sins of the greedy. And perhaps it would lead to a better world. A world were all are free and none are left to rot. Or perhaps history would repeat itself, and humans would finally destroy this planet once and for all. Who is to say? Certainly not Marcus. For he was just a wanderer in the shadows.
After the fire that consumed his small town and presumably his family, who he had lost in the chaos of that night, Marcus soon sought for permanent shelter from the fallout of meteors and destruction to come. He found an underground shelter, presumably made by the people who spent their lives prepping for situations like this. It was likely that the owner of the shelter died in the chaos that consumed the planet before he could make his way to the shelter. It didn't really matter to Marcus, however. It was shelter, and it lasted him through the years of radiation. Every day in the tiny shelter, however, he felt a small pang of sorrow for those who had to suffer through the horrible conditions that the machinery in the shelter described in menacing text and numbers.
It was on his 8th year in the shelter, marked year 2056 by the calender that provided the only sense of date, that the shelter ceased functioning. Taking all he could, including radiation sickness pills, water cleansers, a gas mask, among other things, he left the shelter into the radioactive hell that became the planet. Due to a surface survival book that he found in the 'library' of the shelter, he knew how to avoid radiation and starvation. And so it was that he lasted on the surface for a number of years, being blessed with the gift and burden of life. He would carry around a small hand-cranked radio and flashlight combination, in hopes that he found a signal one day. That day would not come for 6 more years, and for those 6 years he gathered the skills and weapons that accompanied him to this day. It was mostly a blur, being constant with the struggles of life and the wandering of scorched Earth.
In the midst of the year 2062, he found what he had hoped for; Civilization. A place to trade, rest, and hone his skills without the constant moving and struggle of night. Along with civilization came the realization that radio was operable again. The small transceiver he owned was enough to get him a small, friendly programmed bat that a local shop owner had put together personally. Marcus bought it, seeing it as a valuable and useful companion. It could perform recon ahead while he walked behind. It was perfect for his line of work.
The next 3 years passed by uneventfully, but Marcus was relieved to find that his somewhat silly thought that he was the only one left was not true. He didn't really expect it to be true, either. If he had that shelter, who else would? There was bound to be more than just one apocalypse shelter. It was no matter however. He soon left the town, traveling on and finding a new one to stay at. After a while, he would leave again and travel to a new one. It was a constant cycle, and it was doubted it would be interrupted. Only time would tell.
Does or did your character have any companions or family? Besides the lovely company of his mechanical bat, his swords, and his pistols, that would be a no for now. His family, as said in the bio above, disappeared and is presumed dead.
How old is your character? 35
Describe what your character looks like, any distinctive physical features? Marcus is a muscular, well-built man. His shorter, grey hair resembles someone of older age. Other than scattered scars of earlier battles with the night, his appearance is unremarkable.
How does your character act? He acts like a lone wolf, and will usually avoid petty troubles of others. If someone's life is endangered or it is a more serious trouble, he will step in to intervene, but not at the cost of his own life. He works in the shadows, silent and steadfast.
Character's occupation: Marcus is mostly a wanderer, but will bunker down every once in a while and do mercenary or guard work. He won't stay in one place for long, however.
Does your character have an education? (Read or write): He has intermediate reading skills, and can write. This is due to his parent's 'home-tutoring'.
Any special skills that your character has, nothing unbalanced: Marcus is agile and strong, being able to 'stalk' people for somewhat extended periods of time. His swordsmanship and marksmanship are not mastered, but he has skill.
Does your character hate or fear anything? He hates the creatures of the night, and people who act like them. Though shady in his own appearance, he despises thieves and murderers. He is fearful of fire and burning things, thought to be a complex from when his house burnt down.
Describe an example of your character in great suffering and pain (RP, and Long): It was the midst of night. Marcus was stalking along, careful to avoid the creatures of the night; robot, human, and mutant alike. It was a normal night for him. A night filled with suspense and danger, his only accomplices being his swords and his dual Colt 1911's chambered in 45 ACP. He didn't need anyone else. He was fine with this, because having anyone else with him would me responsibility for another person.
A 'hss' sounded from behind him, and he spun around to see a deadly SAB. Jumping out of the way just in time, he was only clipped by the shockwave of the blast. None the less, he let out a shout of pain, being thrown to the ground.
As he tried to get up, the familiar sounds of mutants joined by raiders filled the forest around him. It was a trap. He should have seen this! He got up quickly, running into the treeline as he pulled out one of his 'kanto's, and began to slash at anything that moved.
He was scraped and pounded by mutants that he passed, and he almost made it out if it weren't for the raider that suddenly appeared from behind. He of course couldn't see the far-gone human, but he certainly felt the sting of a bullet entering his leg.
Marcus toppled forward, as blood began to leak from his wound. He didn't hesitate to pull out his guns, and fire at the creatures that soon surrounded him. His guns soon clicked for ammo, and in his blood deprivation, his mind was too foggy to remember where he kept his spare mags. His vision began to fade, darkness threatening to take over his mind.
Marcus could only hang on for what seemed to be an eternity, and he drifted into a dreamlike state. He dreamed of his family, his childhood. How well his life was and how this hell that he lived in now was once make-shift serenity. He was sitting at his rag-tag kitchen table, coloring on recycled fliers that described curfew hours on the other side. He was too young at the time to know what it meant.
Suddenly, the house around him began to flame, and it burned like leaves in a furnace. Marcus sat, choking in the smoke for a seemingly infinite time. He closed his eyes, and as the small child he was in the dream, he begged for the pain and suffering to stop. The flames seemed to consume him, burn every inch of skin he had. The ashes seemed to melt his lungs, burning and scaring them painfully. He continued to beg in hoarse gasps, though no words came out.
Marcus awoke from his dream, looking around slowly. He was still alive. It was day. He tried to sit up, and flinched hard as he felt his wounds pull at themselves and the bandages that were now on him contact. He slowly lifted his hand, feeling a small paper note inside of his palm. He unfolded the note, slowly and painfully, and it read; 'You're welcome - A stranger". Marcus had an epiphany at this point. He now vowed to help anyone in need of help, to repay the kind deeds of a stranger that day.
Anything else to add? Marcus can and will disappear for extended periods of time.
Provide an image of your character's skin:
http://i1121.photobu...zps1782d815.png
http://i1121.photobu...zps773d1366.png
His usual, wandering outfit. He wears this the most.
http://i1121.photobu...zps13c27c0b.png
http://i1121.photobu...zps1908a8af.png
His more casual, resting outfit. He wears this when he knows he won't be traveling much, or if he wants to travel light.
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With Andrew and his insane biowarfare ****, and his 6-foot-long Anti-Tank rifle? Those were some good times right ther.
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Age (Don't lie): 13
Timezone: Central Standard Time
Skype: I will message you this if I'm accepted
Building style: *shrug* Underground, hidden, and effective?
Previous milestones and feats: I've build many things, most of them with legit materials. Mansions, underground bases, piston doors, novice redstone, that kind of thing.
A short bio about yourself: *shrug* I'm a okay builder, I guess. I'm fun-loving, but serious when I need to be. I loved RW, and it was really the gateway of RP for me, so it's kinda sentimental to me, so I'm always willing to help with it, and I see this as a way to help. VIVA LA RUINED WORLD!~
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It won't. Ruined World's family line has been killed off. The only thing that remains is a possible cousin. (AKA, the server Black_Doom was talking about )
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