There are a few small mistakes in the main app, (at one point you say he was born after the war, which would make him an infant, and at another you amend yourself and say that he was born during the end of it. You also call Falkvard Ealvard.) However, none of these really require changing to be accepted considering the semantic nature.
I enjoyed reading about Beldain and his brother, looking forward to see where they fit in and where he gets his pants from.
Your magic app is good to go now. Enjoy Saphriel, and welcome!
I'm very sorry to say that the only acceptable parts of your application are your character name and occupations. I understand that you likely wish to make the changes necessary so that you can start playing as soon as possible, but I can tell you that the mistakes you have made are easily avoided by reading the lore, rules, and application format requirements, and I highly recommend reading through all of these thoroughly to avoid any more issues. As there is more wrong than right here, I will save you time by listing the issues with bullets:
Your definition of powergaming is incorrect.
Your definition of metagaming is incomplete. We're looking for something more specific. If you need help with either of these definitions, I recommend looking over some of the applications that we have accepted.
Dark-elves are no more a sub-species of elf than High-elves. They are two equal halves of a whole, despite what most High-elves would say to debate that.
Dark-elves reach adulthood at 30 due to their increased lifespans. 18 years old would put your character squarely in a developmental stage equivalent to a human 12 year old. If this is what you intended, that's fine, but I thought you should know.
Dark-elves are generally short. 6'2'' is not short, and the tallest generally cap out at 6'0'' with anything more being freakish for their race.
Dark-elves all have white hair, grey to black skin, and some shade of red eyes. Your character cannot have grey irises or extremely pale skin, and if they have indigo/black hair it would have to be dyed.
The character description section requires 1-2 paragraphs. You have provided us with 3 sentences, one of which is you mentioning that you don't know what else to put. I recommend fleshing your character out a bit more. What does she wear? Does she walk around with a permanent scowl? Any scars or missing limbs? Be descriptive and thorough.
The character personality and traits section requires 1-2 paragraphs. You have provided us with 2 sentences. See above.
The character biography section requires at least three paragraphs. You have provided us with one. I like that you included the worship of Udero, as this shows me that you have read some of the lore. It's a good attempt at working her into the server. Character backstory is something that is made easier when you read the lore and gain a better understanding for the world you'll be playing in. I want to know more about this character, and the devil is in the details, details, details. What's the deal with the necromancer? Why did they kill her mother? What happened to the robber who killed her father? Was he ever caught? Was that what led her to pursuing guard work? Which parent was she closer to, if either? How did the recently ended war affect her and her family?
Both of the short RP response scenarios require at least one paragraph each.
Dark elves are incapable of using magic. They are the only race that cannot use magic.
Magic is not a part of everyone. Every race lists a percentage chance of a child being born with the ability to use magic, and even High-elves are often born without the talent.
There is no "shadow element." There is dark magic, which includes the manipulation of shadows, but dark magic is not limited to or encapsulated by this. It also includes the summoning and binding of demons, necromancy, and all other manner of wicked and vile things.
There is no "shadow dimension."
The magic biography requires at least three extremely well-crafted paragraphs. You have provided us with one.
Your description of the limitations of magic is unfinished and does not touch on issues with trinkets/artifacts at all.
Everything you described about the magic system is incorrect. Please read the lore.
Your description of the weak trinket and how it can be used is not an accurate representation of how trinkets work. What you described is certainly possible with some trinkets, but you imply that this trinket is very narrowly capable of just this one feat. Also, the trinket you use as an example must be one of the listed elements. I'm going to assume that "Sgàileag" was meant to be a dark or illusion trinket. The response to this section must also be at least one paragraph long.
That about covers everything that needs to be addressed and corrected. As I said, more is wrong than right here, and you may save yourself some time by starting with a fresh app rather than attempting to edit this one. I cannot stress this enough: read the lore and rules. All of the information I have provided you and more is available for your perusal, and it will help you. If you choose to edit this existing app, please post and let us know once you have done so in case it gets buried. I want to thank you for your time and effort going into this. Your interest is always appreciated and I don't want you to be disheartened by this denial. We look forward to hearing from you again once Skye or her replacement is in shape to play.
Hello, Allot. Thank you for your application and your interest in the server. It's nice to hear from a fellow Aeonian.
Unfortunately, there are a few issues that need to be addressed with your application before it can be accepted. As these are relatively small changes and the basic idea for Artemis can remain intact, you're not outright denied. Let's go over some of the problems:
Your definition of powergaming is incomplete. While this is certainly one aspect of powergaming, we're looking specifically for how powergaming tends to manifest in a multiplayer setting and when interacting with other characters. If you're stumped, I recommend taking a look at some of the applications we've accepted.
Also, the only institution that would pass for any kind of 'university' within Artemis' lifespan would actually be the mages guild. Allow me to elaborate some on how they operate: Presently, the modus operandi of the current archmage Syralei Arrynlocke is the dissemination and instruction of all kinds of knowledge, especially magic. They actually regularly rub elbows with known dark mages, so long as those mages use their power responsibly, and even when they don't the guild is sorely lacking for any kind of elite task force that specializes in breaking down doors for a search and seizure. They are an open and accepting force for knowledge. If you're dead set on him being hunted for his practices, I recommend using the law as your antagonist.
Your entire magic application is a bit lacking, especially the section on the description of how the magic system works. I recommend considering and mentioning as many things as possible: What happens when you try to use a spell too powerful for a weak trinket? What can go wrong if a mage tries to use more than one trinket at once or generally pushes themselves too hard? While the idea of separating magic and artifacts is an intriguing one, I ask that you bear in mind that the art of intrinsic magic has been lost for over 25,000 years. If this is his goal, Artemis would not be the first or greatest to make a try at it. While we encourage creative thinking in the use of magic, there are limits. For example, energy and matter are very different things. You would simply not be able to accomplish what you described with a lightning trinket. There are aspects of magic that would allow this, but none of them elemental.
Lastly, as a footnote, I would ask that when you go over your application and work on these changes you re-read and edit your work with small revisions to improve the grammar, format, and sentence structure of it. This isn't as important as having an understanding of your character and how he fits into the world, and we understand that you're probably very excited to get on as quickly as possible, but doing nothing halfway will take you far here. You may also find yourself referring back to your application in the future to remind yourself of your vision for Artemis, and that could certainly help with ease of reading!
Overall, it's a good attempt but it needs some work. I like Artemis, and I think you've captured the snooty scholar very well in him. I particularly enjoyed your example with the street urchin, and once the necessary changes are made I look forward to seeing how he will go about putting the common rabble of Saphriel in their place.
Thank you for your application and your interest in the server.
While Godric certainly seems an interesting sort, and what you've written about his personality paints him in a very amicable light, I'm afraid that many parts of your application have left me unsure as to whether you have read the entirety of this server's lore and rules. It is imperitive that you read through all of the lore and rules so that you have a strong understanding of this world and how it works, and I highly recommend that you do so before editing your application or submitting a new one.
That said, let's get into the details of where you went wrong. Your definition of power-gaming certainly does cover one aspect of the issues that power-gaming presents and how it manifests, however it is incomplete. As the key difference between roleplay in a setting like Saphriel and something like Skyrim is the involvement of other people, I will stress that what you are missing has to do with how power-gaming can affect interactions between characters. Beyond that, I recommend looking over some of our accepted applications or doing a bit of research to brush up on what power-gaming means in a setting like this.
The main issue with your application is that it shows a clear lack of understanding of dark elves and magic as they exist in this setting. You describe your character as being 6'5'' with blonde hair and blue eyes, however dark elves in Saphriel always have white or very light grey hair and some variant of red eyes. Also, dark elves are usually very stout and short. The tallest of them usually tops off well below where Godric stands. The biggest misunderstanding, however, is that dark elves are completely incapable of performing magic of any kind. As a race and with no known exceptions they are unable to perform magic, and so Godric and his ancestors would not be the excellent mages that you have written about.
Also, enchanting in particular is not a form of magic that exists in the world at the present. The art of imbuing items with magical properties has been lost to the ages and died with the Frol. These magical artifacts still exist in the world, but new ones have not been created for quite some time. In fact, all magic is only possible by focusing raw magical talent through one of these ancient artifacts which is aligned to a certain school of magic, which is another factor that you seem to be missing from your lore as you mention several times that Godric is a natural mage. I cannot stress this enough: magic requires an artifact and cannot be performed by the mage alone.
"Magic is used through the users emotions and feelings and their knowledge and skill. If for say a wizard with lots of anger inside them were to try and heal someone, it may not work as well as a mage who is a happier person. If a person who has a dark, brooding personality who is only trained in dark arts, try to use white magic it may not work so well."
Everything about that statement is completely incorrect. That is not at all how magic works on this server.
That covers everything wrong with your application. I have a few suggestions for you so that your next attempt will be more successful and see you on the server making friends and having adventures in no time: First and foremost, read through the lore and the rules. Secondly, I would recommend when you read the lore consider how Godric would fit into the world of Saphriel. How did the war effect him and his family? How are things for him now that it's over? Where did he live before, and where is he living now? I strongly encourage you to make the places and history of Saphriel a part of your character and his backstory, as this will help your character to be a part of the world.
All that said, it was a good attempt. What you gave was well-written, and Godric in and of his personality and traits seems very interesting and easy to get along with. You simply need to do the research and take steps to make him a part of Saphriel and its rules. Make sure to notify us if and when you update your application.
(Previous post seems to have been completely removed. Not sure why, as there is no reply post and I received no messages. Posting again with some language toned down, in case that was the issue.)
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN:Ryycracker
-Skype name(Optional, for server chat):outlikehendrix
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I haven't been playing D&D since it was a pamphlet, but yes quite a bit. I've both run and played in several 3.5e D&D games (I'm currently in two), and I'm just breaking into the beautiful world of whitewolf with VtM (in one VtM game at the moment.) I've also rolled and played characters in two other Minecraft RP servers, Kingdom of Aeonis and Swords of Abreth. Neither left me aquiver and thirsty for more, but I'm crossing my fingers for a golden goose here.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words:
In my own words? "Heeeeuuurrghck." Power gaming is the roleplay equivalent of playing at dollies, or even solitaire. The key being that it takes other participants out of the equation. A power gamer removes agency from other players and gives it to themselves. The meat and bones of power gaming is always, without fail, *doing* rather than *attempting* where other characters are concerned, and power gaming taken to an extreme is essentially godmode.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
In short, it's the use of out of character knowledge to make in character decisions, deductions or power grabs. The scariest thing about meta-gaming, to me anyway, is how often it can get its hooks into decent people and great players. Often it starts innocently, say you need a very thinly veiled excuse to meet and travel with a party member, but it's a bad habit that can even put people in a situation where they forget how much information their character is actually privy to.
----IC Info----
-Character name:Rejora Magro de' Salvatici
-Character race:Dark Elf
-Character age:44
-Character Occupation(optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. Also be sure to give previous applications a glance before deciding your job, we don't need 5 bartenders!):
Currently jobless, Rejora has a history with the war effort in Barkamsted. He has since left the resistance army of his own volition, however, for reasons described below.
-Character description(At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Regrettably, the most noticeable physical trait to Rejora is the size of him. Standing at 5'3'', he has been considerably shorter than the other boys and men he counts among his peers for the duration of his life. Never the type for sloth and gluttony, nor heavy lifting, years of keeping on his toes and running from fights have rendered him quite thin with passable musculature at best. Strong and adept where jumping, climbing or running are concerned he falls far *short* ( ;D ) of handy where bearing the burden of anything greater than his own body weight is concerned. His eyes are a very deep red, the color of a garnet or deoxygenated blood, and his skin is a warm and earthy grey, just barely on the darker side of the spectrum between black and white. He has a rather thin and sharp face, and while he lacks the square features and strong jaw that make men, well, men, his elven blood still gave him his own sort of handsome in that he appears rather clever and mischievous. Some would liken him to a cat or bird, others would call him a rat. Several have.
Ever a convoluted personality, he favors simplicity in some aspects and complexity in others where his personal style and grooming are concerned. His hair is stark white, and he generally keeps it short. He's partial to an undercut hairstyle, the sides of his head shaved or sheared very close while growing out the top and slicking it back with perfumed oils. His only facial hair is a pair of very closely cut sideburns, which he shaves lines out of at intervals to create a striped look. He has a stylized tattoo of a star on his left bicep, elongated and done in white while forgoing the traditional five-pointed doodle to illustrate the sort of thing that stands out in the heavens, a guide star. He prefers function over form where clothing is concerned, and generally garbs himself in brown or black leather and cloth that fits snugly enough to avoid snagging but loosely enough to allow freedom of movement. When appearances are wanting and present or future company is worth the trouble, he has a few nicer and more vivid silk garments in his collection, as well as a modest assortment of silver and white gold jewelry. Whatever the occasion, however, one element of his dress remains universal. His boots are always platformed, with bottoms one or two inches thicker than the work of most cobblers. It's far less subtle than he thinks it is, and he ardently denies it whenever they are mentioned.
-Character personality and traits(At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Rejora carries with him a temper shorter than he is, and has a whole basket of chips slung over his shoulder. He's wondered more than he cares to admit whether life is a conspiratory force dedicated to denying him the things he desires. With the high elves ever overhead, the glow of their lanterns lighting his dreams and aspirations afire each night, he has always had an intense passion for all things magical, and likewise a fascination with ancient artifacts. However, being a dark elf, it was made painfully clear from a very young age that he would never be capable of bending reality in such a fantastic manner. It was not long before the magical gleam of his high elven brothers and sisters became a source of resentment, rather than inspiration. They were living above it all whilst he was dragging his feet in the dirt, and it certainly didn't help that they were so tall.
His height is a constant and physical reminder of his shortcomings (hah!), and an incredibly hot button for him. He often overcompensates for his stature by taking unnecessary risks, biting off more than he can chew, and generally writing checks with his mouth that his ass can't cash. Born to an old family with high blood but little coin and no land since The Pact invasion, and even then the third son in line, he feels he has been three times cheated by his birth. A runt with no gold and no magical talent.
Despite his bitterness and short fuse, he's a good sort at heart. Still, he recognizes the line between kindness and folly, and always errs on the side of caution and pragmatism over altruism. A true utilitarian. If not for his own battered ego and pride he would be a very careful elf indeed.
-Character biography(At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
"Look, just there Rej. Lankies are putting out the lights for the night. Time for bed."
Childhood was a rough but important time for Rejora. It was in games and scraps with the other elven children that he learned his place. He was the last in line, the least of his kind, and the bottom rung on a ladder riddled with splinters. Not everything was sour in his youth, however. When bitterness is all someone has, they have two choices. They can make their own joy, or, in Rejora's case, find it. Fate is the master of irony, and so it happened that this joy came in the form of a young high elven boy. The child's name was Corinaith Arrynlocke, eldest and only son of the Arrynlocke clan. Corinaith was well liked by the other children. He was handsome, tall, smart, quick, and strong. It helped that his parents were just as well liked by most adults, and the whole family was wealthy to boot. Despite all this, the high elf was a very humble child, and quick to befriend even the pariah that was Rejora, the runt of the broken house Salvatici. The pair became very close indeed, and grew into young men in good company.
"Get up, you lazy ****! Don't you do this, I'll drag you back to Syra if I have to!"
When at last the two friends were grown they arrived squarely at a crossroad. Rejora's education had been nothing spectacular. He was a bright boy, but his family wasn't able to afford many opportunities for the third son. Still, old blood has some connections, and he had options for apprenticeship with a handful of craftsmen in Barkamsted. Corinaith was another story, however. His father had an illustrious military career behind him, and gold enough to set Corin on the path to a rich future in mercantile endeavors. The young men had other plans, however. They had talked extensively of joining the resistance army since they were boys, and no amount of pleading from the parents Arrynlocke nor Salvatici could avail. They were still young, brash, and hungry for glory. Drunk on dreams of reclaiming the old forests they enlisted together. Despite his initial warnings against his son's joining, Corinaith's father had his son's safety first in his mind. He used his pull with the military to have Corin made an officer, hoping this would help to keep him out of the ugliest fights. Rejora, due to his size, build, and natural darksight was a natural candidate for the scout corps. To his glee, he found this actually earned him a considerable deal of respect, which served as a pleasant surprise. The scouts were widely considered equal parts brave and insane. They were the first line, alone and ahead of even the vanguard. Horror stories reached Rejora of scouts who had ridden over hills only to find scores of orcs, bored and thirsty for blood. They spoke of bodies wearing the scout regalia mangled, flattened and oozing at the bottom of depressions that could only be the footprints of thirty foot trolls. Young Rej was scared, certainly, but he could never let it show. He was finally a part of something larger than himself and Corin, and accepted by his brothers and sisters in arms. He would ride into a troll's mouth if it meant he could feel that tall forever.
As luck would have it, Rejora's branch of the scout corps were assigned to field ahead for the regiment that was under the command of Corinaith, so even now the two were never far from one another. They spent several years in service of reclaiming the old territories, but each time they had laid claim to a swathe of land The Pact was quick to reclaim it, always pushing back against the meager forces under Alliance command. Still, hope lay ahead. Though they spent several months at a time afield, they were often recalled to Barkamsted for rest and resupply. On one such return trip they had caught word of the development of cannons. Command gave the order to scout and mark small, defensible areas which could be fortified with makeshift walls and cannons to serve as bases of operation and lines of defense for the reclamation effort. Rejora's branch was one of the few assigned to this task, with Corinaith and his regiment overseeing the defense of the areas they found.
It was on a foggy evening in the plains that Corin learned of the impending disaster. Word had just come into camp, a report from a different scout corps branch. Visual contact with the enemy had been established, a contingent of a couple dozen orcs and a troll. Normally this was no cause for concern, a blip in The Pact army and easily routed if the move was planned properly and executed with enough bodies. However, upon reflection, Corinaith recognized the area the enemy was spotted in. If they continued as they were, Rejora's branch was sure to encounter them. Matters were made worse by the terrain. The plains had many hills, and a fair number of them lay between the scouts and The Pact. They would not be wise to the danger until The Pact was upon them, and it would be far too late for them at that point. Seeing no other course of action, Corinaith rallied his men and personally led them against the enemy.
This, however, would prove a grave mistake. Rejora woke with a start in his makeshift shelter to the sounds of battle. The glow of fire was just over the hill, and he was up and running the moment his brain had processed what was happening. He came upon a scene of butchery. Perhaps a dozen orcs lay dead or dying in the tall grass, and easily two score soldiers for the resistance army were decomposing with them. The hill was aflame, the blaze spreading through the tall brown grass at an alarming rate, already consuming some of the bodies and filling the air with the stench of death. A handful of orcs were fleeing the scene, eager to get away from the flames. They did not notice the scout. His eye was drawn to a huge mass of grey flesh and grisly wounds. He waited a few moments for the last of The Pact to run off, and when they did quickly made his way down the hill, skirting the flames and checking for survivors along the way to what he soon saw was the corpse of a troll. It was there that he saw the limp figure of Corinaith, hand still clinging to a longsword lodged in the great beast's gut. He rushed to the soldier, checking him for signs of life. He still drew breath, though it was shallow. His pulse was weak. Rejora could find no obvious wounds. No cuts, no gashes, no missing limbs. He spent the remainder of that night fleeing the fire as he weakly half-carried, half-dragged Corinaith with him all the way back to camp.
"I don't want to be a burden, Rej. I'm sorry. Don't let Syralei throw everything away for me. Keep her on the straight and narrow."
Corinaith lived, but he was a broken, shattered man. What Rejora's eyes had missed soon everyone could see. The dark elf's childhood friend would never walk again, never even sit up on his own. Once the apple of everyone's eye, now useless from the neck down. Rej took it upon himself to bring the now retired officer, and the news, home to the Arrynlocke family. Being used to dark looks and disdainful reproach did nothing to prepare him for what awaited them upon their return. Corinaith's father had the full story, and naturally laid the blame at Rejora's feet. It was him, after all, that Corin had been trying to save. Corin was defending Rej all the while, but it did little good to try and be heard over the sound of his father's screaming, and his sister and mother's wails.
Time, they say, heals all wounds. It did nothing for Corinaith's condition. Rejora couldn't bear to visit for some time, not for the wroth of his friend's parents but because he simply couldn't bear to see the high-elf in that condition. A great man, bedridden and soiling himself. His room stunk of sweat, tears, and ****. He couldn't stay away, though. He'd resigned from the army months ago, and he couldn't bear the guilt or the loneliness any longer. Despite his misgivings, these visits helped, and time at least healed some wounds. At Corin's bedside Rej began talking extensively with his sister, Syralei, as well as the cripple himself. As a boy Rejora hadn't thought much of Syra. She had often seemed in a world of her own, distant and often in the background, or speaking of old and dusty things that had little bearing on the present day. Now, though, with the both of them tied to that horrible room he found some comfort in her. She was every bit as amicable as her brother, to be sure, if a bit less outgoing. She poured herself into her studies, always, and her willingness to get her hands dirty in the field for the sake of her research earned her a great deal of respect from the dark elf. It helped that they had like interests, and though she was curious at to why he was interested in magic and the ancients despite being unable to use them, she did not laugh when his answer was simply that he wished he could.
So it was that Rejora found another friend, once more amongst the people he so often spited out of envy. Given time, the pair began to speak of searching for these ancient artifacts together. Syra was excited at the prospect of new finds, advancements in her field, and contributions to Barkamsted's struggle. Rej too saw the value in this. After what had happened he couldn't commit to joining up with the army again, but he was eager to do what he could all the same. All said, the pair made a natural team when it came to their searches. Between Syralei's time in academia and magical talent, and Rejora's military, combat, and scouting experience their skillsets complimented one another, and both shared a passion for the uncovering of ancient truths and treasures. Together they set out with these ends in mind, and often come home to Barkamsted with a story or two for Corinaith.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios.(At least one paragraph for each.)
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.
The dark elf spun on heel to try and catch the urchin by the arm. Failing that, he watched him go. The child had picked the wrong person to rob, and he was like to find less copper in that purse than he would in a begging tin. In truth Rejora had room for a bit of pity in his heart. His guard against such things was usually superb, and a child that adept at sleight of hand had to have a mighty need. Still, he'd seen him come and go, and he had a face. Where raw dexterity had failed him his wits would see that the same child wouldn't catch him on a day more flush.
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.
A mix of fear and excitement crossed Rejora's features at his latest discovery. He had to be careful about how he approached this, an animal is never more dangerous than when it's cornered or defending young, and both cases were true here. He couldn't get close enough for a clean cut, an arrow would have to do. A hole in the head meant a lower price, this mother wouldn't be anyone's rug. Still, if his hand was steady enough she could be someone's coat. The string strummed and the shaft whistled to signal a clean shot between the wolf's eyes. The dark elf gave it a moment to be sure it was well dead, and got to work. He had to travel light if he wanted to make good time, and the amount of meat on the mother would either go bad before he got back to Barkamsted or simply never be eaten. He settled for her skin, leaving the rest of her for the pack that was doubtlessly nearby. The pups would come in handy, light but fatty from mother's milk. He thought as he gave them quick deaths by his knife that Syra might think less of him for it, but were the roles reversed they certainly wouldn't be nursing him to health, let alone their mother. Inside the city walls were one thing, but out here in the trees and hills a snack was a snack. At least he could give them the mercy of steel, a measure of shelter from the cold and hungry death they faced otherwise.
0
Main app: Accepted.
Magic app: Accepted.
There are a few small mistakes in the main app, (at one point you say he was born after the war, which would make him an infant, and at another you amend yourself and say that he was born during the end of it. You also call Falkvard Ealvard.) However, none of these really require changing to be accepted considering the semantic nature.
I enjoyed reading about Beldain and his brother, looking forward to see where they fit in and where he gets his pants from.
Your magic app is good to go now. Enjoy Saphriel, and welcome!
0
Denied
I'm very sorry to say that the only acceptable parts of your application are your character name and occupations. I understand that you likely wish to make the changes necessary so that you can start playing as soon as possible, but I can tell you that the mistakes you have made are easily avoided by reading the lore, rules, and application format requirements, and I highly recommend reading through all of these thoroughly to avoid any more issues. As there is more wrong than right here, I will save you time by listing the issues with bullets:
That about covers everything that needs to be addressed and corrected. As I said, more is wrong than right here, and you may save yourself some time by starting with a fresh app rather than attempting to edit this one. I cannot stress this enough: read the lore and rules. All of the information I have provided you and more is available for your perusal, and it will help you. If you choose to edit this existing app, please post and let us know once you have done so in case it gets buried. I want to thank you for your time and effort going into this. Your interest is always appreciated and I don't want you to be disheartened by this denial. We look forward to hearing from you again once Skye or her replacement is in shape to play.
(This denial approved by Dahlea)
0
Pending,
Hello, Allot. Thank you for your application and your interest in the server. It's nice to hear from a fellow Aeonian.
Unfortunately, there are a few issues that need to be addressed with your application before it can be accepted. As these are relatively small changes and the basic idea for Artemis can remain intact, you're not outright denied. Let's go over some of the problems:
Your definition of powergaming is incomplete. While this is certainly one aspect of powergaming, we're looking specifically for how powergaming tends to manifest in a multiplayer setting and when interacting with other characters. If you're stumped, I recommend taking a look at some of the applications we've accepted.
Also, the only institution that would pass for any kind of 'university' within Artemis' lifespan would actually be the mages guild. Allow me to elaborate some on how they operate: Presently, the modus operandi of the current archmage Syralei Arrynlocke is the dissemination and instruction of all kinds of knowledge, especially magic. They actually regularly rub elbows with known dark mages, so long as those mages use their power responsibly, and even when they don't the guild is sorely lacking for any kind of elite task force that specializes in breaking down doors for a search and seizure. They are an open and accepting force for knowledge. If you're dead set on him being hunted for his practices, I recommend using the law as your antagonist.
Your entire magic application is a bit lacking, especially the section on the description of how the magic system works. I recommend considering and mentioning as many things as possible: What happens when you try to use a spell too powerful for a weak trinket? What can go wrong if a mage tries to use more than one trinket at once or generally pushes themselves too hard? While the idea of separating magic and artifacts is an intriguing one, I ask that you bear in mind that the art of intrinsic magic has been lost for over 25,000 years. If this is his goal, Artemis would not be the first or greatest to make a try at it. While we encourage creative thinking in the use of magic, there are limits. For example, energy and matter are very different things. You would simply not be able to accomplish what you described with a lightning trinket. There are aspects of magic that would allow this, but none of them elemental.
Lastly, as a footnote, I would ask that when you go over your application and work on these changes you re-read and edit your work with small revisions to improve the grammar, format, and sentence structure of it. This isn't as important as having an understanding of your character and how he fits into the world, and we understand that you're probably very excited to get on as quickly as possible, but doing nothing halfway will take you far here. You may also find yourself referring back to your application in the future to remind yourself of your vision for Artemis, and that could certainly help with ease of reading!
Overall, it's a good attempt but it needs some work. I like Artemis, and I think you've captured the snooty scholar very well in him. I particularly enjoyed your example with the street urchin, and once the necessary changes are made I look forward to seeing how he will go about putting the common rabble of Saphriel in their place.
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Denied
Thank you for your application and your interest in the server.
While Godric certainly seems an interesting sort, and what you've written about his personality paints him in a very amicable light, I'm afraid that many parts of your application have left me unsure as to whether you have read the entirety of this server's lore and rules. It is imperitive that you read through all of the lore and rules so that you have a strong understanding of this world and how it works, and I highly recommend that you do so before editing your application or submitting a new one.
That said, let's get into the details of where you went wrong. Your definition of power-gaming certainly does cover one aspect of the issues that power-gaming presents and how it manifests, however it is incomplete. As the key difference between roleplay in a setting like Saphriel and something like Skyrim is the involvement of other people, I will stress that what you are missing has to do with how power-gaming can affect interactions between characters. Beyond that, I recommend looking over some of our accepted applications or doing a bit of research to brush up on what power-gaming means in a setting like this.
The main issue with your application is that it shows a clear lack of understanding of dark elves and magic as they exist in this setting. You describe your character as being 6'5'' with blonde hair and blue eyes, however dark elves in Saphriel always have white or very light grey hair and some variant of red eyes. Also, dark elves are usually very stout and short. The tallest of them usually tops off well below where Godric stands. The biggest misunderstanding, however, is that dark elves are completely incapable of performing magic of any kind. As a race and with no known exceptions they are unable to perform magic, and so Godric and his ancestors would not be the excellent mages that you have written about.
Also, enchanting in particular is not a form of magic that exists in the world at the present. The art of imbuing items with magical properties has been lost to the ages and died with the Frol. These magical artifacts still exist in the world, but new ones have not been created for quite some time. In fact, all magic is only possible by focusing raw magical talent through one of these ancient artifacts which is aligned to a certain school of magic, which is another factor that you seem to be missing from your lore as you mention several times that Godric is a natural mage. I cannot stress this enough: magic requires an artifact and cannot be performed by the mage alone.
"Magic is used through the users emotions and feelings and their knowledge and skill. If for say a wizard with lots of anger inside them were to try and heal someone, it may not work as well as a mage who is a happier person. If a person who has a dark, brooding personality who is only trained in dark arts, try to use white magic it may not work so well."
Everything about that statement is completely incorrect. That is not at all how magic works on this server.
That covers everything wrong with your application. I have a few suggestions for you so that your next attempt will be more successful and see you on the server making friends and having adventures in no time: First and foremost, read through the lore and the rules. Secondly, I would recommend when you read the lore consider how Godric would fit into the world of Saphriel. How did the war effect him and his family? How are things for him now that it's over? Where did he live before, and where is he living now? I strongly encourage you to make the places and history of Saphriel a part of your character and his backstory, as this will help your character to be a part of the world.
All that said, it was a good attempt. What you gave was well-written, and Godric in and of his personality and traits seems very interesting and easy to get along with. You simply need to do the research and take steps to make him a part of Saphriel and its rules. Make sure to notify us if and when you update your application.
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(Previous post seems to have been completely removed. Not sure why, as there is no reply post and I received no messages. Posting again with some language toned down, in case that was the issue.)
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: Ryycracker
-Skype name (Optional, for server chat): outlikehendrix
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I haven't been playing D&D since it was a pamphlet, but yes quite a bit. I've both run and played in several 3.5e D&D games (I'm currently in two), and I'm just breaking into the beautiful world of whitewolf with VtM (in one VtM game at the moment.) I've also rolled and played characters in two other Minecraft RP servers, Kingdom of Aeonis and Swords of Abreth. Neither left me aquiver and thirsty for more, but I'm crossing my fingers for a golden goose here.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words:
In my own words? "Heeeeuuurrghck." Power gaming is the roleplay equivalent of playing at dollies, or even solitaire. The key being that it takes other participants out of the equation. A power gamer removes agency from other players and gives it to themselves. The meat and bones of power gaming is always, without fail, *doing* rather than *attempting* where other characters are concerned, and power gaming taken to an extreme is essentially godmode.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
In short, it's the use of out of character knowledge to make in character decisions, deductions or power grabs. The scariest thing about meta-gaming, to me anyway, is how often it can get its hooks into decent people and great players. Often it starts innocently, say you need a very thinly veiled excuse to meet and travel with a party member, but it's a bad habit that can even put people in a situation where they forget how much information their character is actually privy to.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Rejora Magro de' Salvatici
-Character race: Dark Elf
-Character age: 44
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. Also be sure to give previous applications a glance before deciding your job, we don't need 5 bartenders!):
Currently jobless, Rejora has a history with the war effort in Barkamsted. He has since left the resistance army of his own volition, however, for reasons described below.
-Character description(At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Regrettably, the most noticeable physical trait to Rejora is the size of him. Standing at 5'3'', he has been considerably shorter than the other boys and men he counts among his peers for the duration of his life. Never the type for sloth and gluttony, nor heavy lifting, years of keeping on his toes and running from fights have rendered him quite thin with passable musculature at best. Strong and adept where jumping, climbing or running are concerned he falls far *short* ( ;D ) of handy where bearing the burden of anything greater than his own body weight is concerned. His eyes are a very deep red, the color of a garnet or deoxygenated blood, and his skin is a warm and earthy grey, just barely on the darker side of the spectrum between black and white. He has a rather thin and sharp face, and while he lacks the square features and strong jaw that make men, well, men, his elven blood still gave him his own sort of handsome in that he appears rather clever and mischievous. Some would liken him to a cat or bird, others would call him a rat. Several have.
Ever a convoluted personality, he favors simplicity in some aspects and complexity in others where his personal style and grooming are concerned. His hair is stark white, and he generally keeps it short. He's partial to an undercut hairstyle, the sides of his head shaved or sheared very close while growing out the top and slicking it back with perfumed oils. His only facial hair is a pair of very closely cut sideburns, which he shaves lines out of at intervals to create a striped look. He has a stylized tattoo of a star on his left bicep, elongated and done in white while forgoing the traditional five-pointed doodle to illustrate the sort of thing that stands out in the heavens, a guide star. He prefers function over form where clothing is concerned, and generally garbs himself in brown or black leather and cloth that fits snugly enough to avoid snagging but loosely enough to allow freedom of movement. When appearances are wanting and present or future company is worth the trouble, he has a few nicer and more vivid silk garments in his collection, as well as a modest assortment of silver and white gold jewelry. Whatever the occasion, however, one element of his dress remains universal. His boots are always platformed, with bottoms one or two inches thicker than the work of most cobblers. It's far less subtle than he thinks it is, and he ardently denies it whenever they are mentioned.
Drawing of him done by my SO, LaRioux: http://puu.sh/jb8gx/ac4196b6f3.jpg
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Rejora carries with him a temper shorter than he is, and has a whole basket of chips slung over his shoulder. He's wondered more than he cares to admit whether life is a conspiratory force dedicated to denying him the things he desires. With the high elves ever overhead, the glow of their lanterns lighting his dreams and aspirations afire each night, he has always had an intense passion for all things magical, and likewise a fascination with ancient artifacts. However, being a dark elf, it was made painfully clear from a very young age that he would never be capable of bending reality in such a fantastic manner. It was not long before the magical gleam of his high elven brothers and sisters became a source of resentment, rather than inspiration. They were living above it all whilst he was dragging his feet in the dirt, and it certainly didn't help that they were so tall.
His height is a constant and physical reminder of his shortcomings (hah!), and an incredibly hot button for him. He often overcompensates for his stature by taking unnecessary risks, biting off more than he can chew, and generally writing checks with his mouth that his ass can't cash. Born to an old family with high blood but little coin and no land since The Pact invasion, and even then the third son in line, he feels he has been three times cheated by his birth. A runt with no gold and no magical talent.
Despite his bitterness and short fuse, he's a good sort at heart. Still, he recognizes the line between kindness and folly, and always errs on the side of caution and pragmatism over altruism. A true utilitarian. If not for his own battered ego and pride he would be a very careful elf indeed.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
"Look, just there Rej. Lankies are putting out the lights for the night. Time for bed."
Childhood was a rough but important time for Rejora. It was in games and scraps with the other elven children that he learned his place. He was the last in line, the least of his kind, and the bottom rung on a ladder riddled with splinters. Not everything was sour in his youth, however. When bitterness is all someone has, they have two choices. They can make their own joy, or, in Rejora's case, find it. Fate is the master of irony, and so it happened that this joy came in the form of a young high elven boy. The child's name was Corinaith Arrynlocke, eldest and only son of the Arrynlocke clan. Corinaith was well liked by the other children. He was handsome, tall, smart, quick, and strong. It helped that his parents were just as well liked by most adults, and the whole family was wealthy to boot. Despite all this, the high elf was a very humble child, and quick to befriend even the pariah that was Rejora, the runt of the broken house Salvatici. The pair became very close indeed, and grew into young men in good company.
"Get up, you lazy ****! Don't you do this, I'll drag you back to Syra if I have to!"
When at last the two friends were grown they arrived squarely at a crossroad. Rejora's education had been nothing spectacular. He was a bright boy, but his family wasn't able to afford many opportunities for the third son. Still, old blood has some connections, and he had options for apprenticeship with a handful of craftsmen in Barkamsted. Corinaith was another story, however. His father had an illustrious military career behind him, and gold enough to set Corin on the path to a rich future in mercantile endeavors. The young men had other plans, however. They had talked extensively of joining the resistance army since they were boys, and no amount of pleading from the parents Arrynlocke nor Salvatici could avail. They were still young, brash, and hungry for glory. Drunk on dreams of reclaiming the old forests they enlisted together. Despite his initial warnings against his son's joining, Corinaith's father had his son's safety first in his mind. He used his pull with the military to have Corin made an officer, hoping this would help to keep him out of the ugliest fights. Rejora, due to his size, build, and natural darksight was a natural candidate for the scout corps. To his glee, he found this actually earned him a considerable deal of respect, which served as a pleasant surprise. The scouts were widely considered equal parts brave and insane. They were the first line, alone and ahead of even the vanguard. Horror stories reached Rejora of scouts who had ridden over hills only to find scores of orcs, bored and thirsty for blood. They spoke of bodies wearing the scout regalia mangled, flattened and oozing at the bottom of depressions that could only be the footprints of thirty foot trolls. Young Rej was scared, certainly, but he could never let it show. He was finally a part of something larger than himself and Corin, and accepted by his brothers and sisters in arms. He would ride into a troll's mouth if it meant he could feel that tall forever.
As luck would have it, Rejora's branch of the scout corps were assigned to field ahead for the regiment that was under the command of Corinaith, so even now the two were never far from one another. They spent several years in service of reclaiming the old territories, but each time they had laid claim to a swathe of land The Pact was quick to reclaim it, always pushing back against the meager forces under Alliance command. Still, hope lay ahead. Though they spent several months at a time afield, they were often recalled to Barkamsted for rest and resupply. On one such return trip they had caught word of the development of cannons. Command gave the order to scout and mark small, defensible areas which could be fortified with makeshift walls and cannons to serve as bases of operation and lines of defense for the reclamation effort. Rejora's branch was one of the few assigned to this task, with Corinaith and his regiment overseeing the defense of the areas they found.
It was on a foggy evening in the plains that Corin learned of the impending disaster. Word had just come into camp, a report from a different scout corps branch. Visual contact with the enemy had been established, a contingent of a couple dozen orcs and a troll. Normally this was no cause for concern, a blip in The Pact army and easily routed if the move was planned properly and executed with enough bodies. However, upon reflection, Corinaith recognized the area the enemy was spotted in. If they continued as they were, Rejora's branch was sure to encounter them. Matters were made worse by the terrain. The plains had many hills, and a fair number of them lay between the scouts and The Pact. They would not be wise to the danger until The Pact was upon them, and it would be far too late for them at that point. Seeing no other course of action, Corinaith rallied his men and personally led them against the enemy.
This, however, would prove a grave mistake. Rejora woke with a start in his makeshift shelter to the sounds of battle. The glow of fire was just over the hill, and he was up and running the moment his brain had processed what was happening. He came upon a scene of butchery. Perhaps a dozen orcs lay dead or dying in the tall grass, and easily two score soldiers for the resistance army were decomposing with them. The hill was aflame, the blaze spreading through the tall brown grass at an alarming rate, already consuming some of the bodies and filling the air with the stench of death. A handful of orcs were fleeing the scene, eager to get away from the flames. They did not notice the scout. His eye was drawn to a huge mass of grey flesh and grisly wounds. He waited a few moments for the last of The Pact to run off, and when they did quickly made his way down the hill, skirting the flames and checking for survivors along the way to what he soon saw was the corpse of a troll. It was there that he saw the limp figure of Corinaith, hand still clinging to a longsword lodged in the great beast's gut. He rushed to the soldier, checking him for signs of life. He still drew breath, though it was shallow. His pulse was weak. Rejora could find no obvious wounds. No cuts, no gashes, no missing limbs. He spent the remainder of that night fleeing the fire as he weakly half-carried, half-dragged Corinaith with him all the way back to camp.
"I don't want to be a burden, Rej. I'm sorry. Don't let Syralei throw everything away for me. Keep her on the straight and narrow."
Corinaith lived, but he was a broken, shattered man. What Rejora's eyes had missed soon everyone could see. The dark elf's childhood friend would never walk again, never even sit up on his own. Once the apple of everyone's eye, now useless from the neck down. Rej took it upon himself to bring the now retired officer, and the news, home to the Arrynlocke family. Being used to dark looks and disdainful reproach did nothing to prepare him for what awaited them upon their return. Corinaith's father had the full story, and naturally laid the blame at Rejora's feet. It was him, after all, that Corin had been trying to save. Corin was defending Rej all the while, but it did little good to try and be heard over the sound of his father's screaming, and his sister and mother's wails.
Time, they say, heals all wounds. It did nothing for Corinaith's condition. Rejora couldn't bear to visit for some time, not for the wroth of his friend's parents but because he simply couldn't bear to see the high-elf in that condition. A great man, bedridden and soiling himself. His room stunk of sweat, tears, and ****. He couldn't stay away, though. He'd resigned from the army months ago, and he couldn't bear the guilt or the loneliness any longer. Despite his misgivings, these visits helped, and time at least healed some wounds. At Corin's bedside Rej began talking extensively with his sister, Syralei, as well as the cripple himself. As a boy Rejora hadn't thought much of Syra. She had often seemed in a world of her own, distant and often in the background, or speaking of old and dusty things that had little bearing on the present day. Now, though, with the both of them tied to that horrible room he found some comfort in her. She was every bit as amicable as her brother, to be sure, if a bit less outgoing. She poured herself into her studies, always, and her willingness to get her hands dirty in the field for the sake of her research earned her a great deal of respect from the dark elf. It helped that they had like interests, and though she was curious at to why he was interested in magic and the ancients despite being unable to use them, she did not laugh when his answer was simply that he wished he could.
So it was that Rejora found another friend, once more amongst the people he so often spited out of envy. Given time, the pair began to speak of searching for these ancient artifacts together. Syra was excited at the prospect of new finds, advancements in her field, and contributions to Barkamsted's struggle. Rej too saw the value in this. After what had happened he couldn't commit to joining up with the army again, but he was eager to do what he could all the same. All said, the pair made a natural team when it came to their searches. Between Syralei's time in academia and magical talent, and Rejora's military, combat, and scouting experience their skillsets complimented one another, and both shared a passion for the uncovering of ancient truths and treasures. Together they set out with these ends in mind, and often come home to Barkamsted with a story or two for Corinaith.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each.)
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.
The dark elf spun on heel to try and catch the urchin by the arm. Failing that, he watched him go. The child had picked the wrong person to rob, and he was like to find less copper in that purse than he would in a begging tin. In truth Rejora had room for a bit of pity in his heart. His guard against such things was usually superb, and a child that adept at sleight of hand had to have a mighty need. Still, he'd seen him come and go, and he had a face. Where raw dexterity had failed him his wits would see that the same child wouldn't catch him on a day more flush.
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.
A mix of fear and excitement crossed Rejora's features at his latest discovery. He had to be careful about how he approached this, an animal is never more dangerous than when it's cornered or defending young, and both cases were true here. He couldn't get close enough for a clean cut, an arrow would have to do. A hole in the head meant a lower price, this mother wouldn't be anyone's rug. Still, if his hand was steady enough she could be someone's coat. The string strummed and the shaft whistled to signal a clean shot between the wolf's eyes. The dark elf gave it a moment to be sure it was well dead, and got to work. He had to travel light if he wanted to make good time, and the amount of meat on the mother would either go bad before he got back to Barkamsted or simply never be eaten. He settled for her skin, leaving the rest of her for the pack that was doubtlessly nearby. The pups would come in handy, light but fatty from mother's milk. He thought as he gave them quick deaths by his knife that Syra might think less of him for it, but were the roles reversed they certainly wouldn't be nursing him to health, let alone their mother. Inside the city walls were one thing, but out here in the trees and hills a snack was a snack. At least he could give them the mercy of steel, a measure of shelter from the cold and hungry death they faced otherwise.