1. What is your Minecraft username?
Jackdc4
2. How old are you?
21
3. What country are you from?
England
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yes
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is the use of out of character knowledge to provide an in character advantage during roleplay, such as the knowledge that a certain animal is or is not poisonous, or that an opponent was recently wounded in a fight that occurred whilst you were offline.
Powergaming is most commonly found in the form of forcing actions onto another player, without giving them a chance to respond or forcing a response onto them.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Jinny
8. Tell us about yourself!
I've recently taken up blacksmithing after being gifted a handmade forge made by a local smith, my first project is planned to be a carving knife to complement my wood carving tools, but I'm waiting on a few tools before I can start. I have a Jack Russel terrier that is getting on in age, but have had working dogs all my life as well as cats and various rodents. I'm a competent chef and have often spent five to six hours preparing a meal for just myself such as confit duck. I've recently been contemplating taking a few butchering courses at a professional level and I'm currently qualified to an entry level position in finance. I am big into homebrewing and I have made all sorts of drinks from homegrown pear schnapps to kvass, my specialty is ginger beer and I have frequently been asked if I would consider setting up a small business to sell it (Too much red tape, couldn't afford it even with a volunteer investor).
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
My food tastes good, I haven't mastered the art of it looking good yet, I'll spare you.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
About Your Character!
This section is about the character you intend to use once you join the server.We ask that new players follow these guidelines during this portion of the application:
Character Name:
Ademaro
Character Age:
Twenty Four
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Five foot Nine with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Somewhat sharp features, but not enough so to be called chiselled. He is relatively pale and clad in a long black gambeson edged with faded yellow cloth, often worn open, over a grey shirt and black trousers. Well worn black boots on his feet, often somewhat muddy.(We just want to make sure things like hair color, eye color, skin color, and clothing is all fitting for the setting/lore we have.)
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/jackdc4-skin-fixed-eyes/
Written Test!
(This is where you tell us a story of your choosing! Be creative. It should be 400 words minimum and use the character you've created above. This is what we use to judge your ability as a roleplayer. Show us how much you've learned by reading our guides and lore. Include anything you think will impress us!)
Cold, yellow rays of sun over wide golden fields of wheat marked the start of day, traipsing from a small thatched hovel at the fields corner, fifteen, wearing a long shirt and short trousers Ademaro set to work, on his knees tugging weeds up from along the fields edge whilst his father and older men edged an irrigation ditch nearby. Fighting the ever encroaching decay of their fields was the daily grind for his family and it was a life he was resigned to, seeing no real change in his future and seeking none. As the sun rose to its highest point the men sat on the ditch edge, eating cheese and dark, dense bread, some of the older men had a few scraps of ham or salted beef to chew on and a woman brought large pots of small beer and light cider to the workers. Ademaro sat further off from the others, on the edge of the roadway facing the field, with a small jar to himself and a crust of bread in hand he relished the break from hard work. A few minutes later the sound of hoofs sounded down the road, Ademaro glanced down the road and saw a lone rider moving slowly towards him and shuffled until he was barely touching the road, put down his head and carried on dutifully chewing on his bread. As the hoofbeats grew closer he hunched his shoulders and shrunk into himself, trying not to be noticed. The movement stopped behind him and he held his breath "Move," A single word from behind yet Ademaro flinched like a cane had been laid across his shoulders, grasping up his drink and nodding quickly, bowing and moving down into the ditch whilst staring directly at the ground, "Yes sir, sorry my lord, at once, of course," He babbled out quickly, cowering like a beaten dog as he made sure to remove himself from the mans reach.
Harsh pounding rain, beating bare fields into a muddy quagmire, near drowning the fresh sown seed, a slight change in the grey dimness marked the morning. Sat beneath the small plank gable, seventeen, he watched the rain run in small streams past his door, clad in a pair of long trousers and with a new shirt on his back and a cloth hat. No work to be done he whiled away the time, whittling at a piece of old firewood, carving a soldier on a horse for his younger sibling, the day wore on and the toy took shape as the rain began to wane, then as the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds hit his face and mere minutes later were blocked out by a man atop a large horse, glowering down at him "Name?" The man barked down at him
"Ademaro, sir," He replied timidly, looking up briefly, before looking back down at his feet.
"Long trousers lad, that makes you a man. You'll make your way up to the Tower House by the end of the week for militia duty," The rider snapped down at him.
"Yes sir, of course, sir, but I haven't a weapon, sir, should I try to find one? A shield?" He asked, voice soft and worried, the potential cost of equipment likely to ruin him.
"You'll be fitted for a jack and they'll find a spear and board for you on arrival, it'll be your first fortnights pay, you'd best have coin to feed yourself because we'll not feed you," The man replied, the words clearly said many times already.
"Thank you, sir" Adem responded swiftly, nodded rapidly in agreement "I'll be there as swift as I can get my things, sir." He stood and knelt to the man, presuming him to be a knight in his local lords employ.
The rider left and Ademaro set into his fathers house, setting the toy he'd made upon the table and gathering up his few possessions, a spare shirt and a knife to eat with before bidding farewell to his father and leaving a message to his mother before setting out on the road to the Tower House.
Wailing wind, dust whipped up down the way to the crossroads, golden light bathed the small hut in warmth as it blocked the cold wind. Leaning out of the breeze, bathed in warmth, twenty one, he let his gaze sweep lazily down the road, saw no one and retreated back from the wind, clad in a new black gambeson, edged in bright yellow cloth with shiny waxed oak buttons. He let his hand rest on the shaft of his spear, almost reflexively checking it was there, the need to know its location beaten into him over the past four years by the drill master.Time passed and a noise reached the hut Ademaro stood up straight as he heard a pair of hobnailed boots beating there way towards him. He took up his crude helmet, a boiled leather cap with a fleece lining painted a glossy black to match his uniform, and sat it atop his head before stepping out, spear in his right hand and a shield in his left, he struck the cobbles with the butt of his spear before turning to face the guardsman coming to replace him for the afternoons shift before nodding to the man and falling into easy conversation, waiting a good quarter of an hour before heading back to the barracks.
Drifting snow, blown gently on the breeze but seeming to move fast as an arrow, the pounding of hooves filling the senses,twenty three, riding at a steady canter Ademaro held his spear upright, a small wisp of yellow cloth below its point as he rushed down the road, scattering the odd team of workers as he rode hard towards the Tower House, shield over his back and a rolled parchment clasped between the reigns and his palm. His gambeson open to make his ride more comfortable let in the cold air and he shivered half from cold and half in anticipation, discharge in hand he headed steadily on to the quartermasters stores, returning the borrowed shield, painted with his lords sigil, the spear and gambeson his own now, along with the shining leather helm. The horse too must be returned, his time as a guardsman come to and end, having served as little more than a doorstop in a hut and a mounted courier for half a year he was being sent back to his parents with enough coin to buy himself a small home and see theirs improved modestly.
Two nights passed and the sun had set as he found himself approaching the house of his childhood, a spear over his shoulder and a bag of coins on his hip. He left his weapon and the padded coat outside and entered quietly, returned at once to his youth, he looked around and smiled to his parents, his mother seeming so much smaller and his father seeming that much more dour, he stood embarrassed for a few moments to be back, having seen them once in the years of his service to their lord, he spent the night speaking to his father, laying plans for where he might settle, whom he might marry and what he would do with the coin he had brought back. By the end of the night he was resolved, against his fathers wishes, he would not stay in the fields of his youth, but would take what coin he needed for his travel, to feed him and keep him watered as he went and leave the rest to his parents and younger brother, to buy the boy out of his own service. The next morning he left, setting out towards the end of the road, wherever it might lead him, his spear on his shoulder, gambeson draped like a cloak and a smile on his face, free of his past and loosed to the future, the rhythmic beat of parade ground marching in his hobnailed boots like a drummers call to the line.
Jackdc4
2. How old are you?
21
3. What country are you from?
England
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yes
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is the use of out of character knowledge to provide an in character advantage during roleplay, such as the knowledge that a certain animal is or is not poisonous, or that an opponent was recently wounded in a fight that occurred whilst you were offline.
Powergaming is most commonly found in the form of forcing actions onto another player, without giving them a chance to respond or forcing a response onto them.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Jinny
8. Tell us about yourself!
I've recently taken up blacksmithing after being gifted a handmade forge made by a local smith, my first project is planned to be a carving knife to complement my wood carving tools, but I'm waiting on a few tools before I can start. I have a Jack Russel terrier that is getting on in age, but have had working dogs all my life as well as cats and various rodents. I'm a competent chef and have often spent five to six hours preparing a meal for just myself such as confit duck. I've recently been contemplating taking a few butchering courses at a professional level and I'm currently qualified to an entry level position in finance. I am big into homebrewing and I have made all sorts of drinks from homegrown pear schnapps to kvass, my specialty is ginger beer and I have frequently been asked if I would consider setting up a small business to sell it (Too much red tape, couldn't afford it even with a volunteer investor).
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
My food tastes good, I haven't mastered the art of it looking good yet, I'll spare you.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
About Your Character!
This section is about the character you intend to use once you join the server.We ask that new players follow these guidelines during this portion of the application:
- Characters begin with basic skills and gear. No advanced armor or weaponry. Skills and abilities are appropriate to a novice level. Skills should be learned through roleplay, not through backstory.
- Characters fit the lore. If you choose to play as a Moor Elf, for example, we expect appearance and details to be fitting with base lore.
- Characters cannot use magic in any way. The test itself should not mention magic either. HollowWorld uses a restricted magic system and it is only accessible to those who find and learn from a teacher in-game.
- Tests should not be violent. No murder, killing, death, torture. In the past, 8 out of 10 applications featured characters fighting off bandits or slaying passersby. We don't want to see how well you can script a fight scene. We want to see how well you can tell a story, how well you can roleplay.
- Be creative and be original. Do not use tests/characters whose home villages were burned, parents murdered, and then set off to be an orphan assassin. It has been done before. Please don't do it again.
- Written portion of the test is required to be a 400 word minimum. If the test doesn't meet the minimum, Staff may ask you to extend the test before the application is considered.
Character Name:
Ademaro
Character Age:
Twenty Four
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Five foot Nine with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Somewhat sharp features, but not enough so to be called chiselled. He is relatively pale and clad in a long black gambeson edged with faded yellow cloth, often worn open, over a grey shirt and black trousers. Well worn black boots on his feet, often somewhat muddy.(We just want to make sure things like hair color, eye color, skin color, and clothing is all fitting for the setting/lore we have.)
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/jackdc4-skin-fixed-eyes/
Written Test!
(This is where you tell us a story of your choosing! Be creative. It should be 400 words minimum and use the character you've created above. This is what we use to judge your ability as a roleplayer. Show us how much you've learned by reading our guides and lore. Include anything you think will impress us!)
Cold, yellow rays of sun over wide golden fields of wheat marked the start of day, traipsing from a small thatched hovel at the fields corner, fifteen, wearing a long shirt and short trousers Ademaro set to work, on his knees tugging weeds up from along the fields edge whilst his father and older men edged an irrigation ditch nearby. Fighting the ever encroaching decay of their fields was the daily grind for his family and it was a life he was resigned to, seeing no real change in his future and seeking none. As the sun rose to its highest point the men sat on the ditch edge, eating cheese and dark, dense bread, some of the older men had a few scraps of ham or salted beef to chew on and a woman brought large pots of small beer and light cider to the workers. Ademaro sat further off from the others, on the edge of the roadway facing the field, with a small jar to himself and a crust of bread in hand he relished the break from hard work. A few minutes later the sound of hoofs sounded down the road, Ademaro glanced down the road and saw a lone rider moving slowly towards him and shuffled until he was barely touching the road, put down his head and carried on dutifully chewing on his bread. As the hoofbeats grew closer he hunched his shoulders and shrunk into himself, trying not to be noticed. The movement stopped behind him and he held his breath "Move," A single word from behind yet Ademaro flinched like a cane had been laid across his shoulders, grasping up his drink and nodding quickly, bowing and moving down into the ditch whilst staring directly at the ground, "Yes sir, sorry my lord, at once, of course," He babbled out quickly, cowering like a beaten dog as he made sure to remove himself from the mans reach.
Harsh pounding rain, beating bare fields into a muddy quagmire, near drowning the fresh sown seed, a slight change in the grey dimness marked the morning. Sat beneath the small plank gable, seventeen, he watched the rain run in small streams past his door, clad in a pair of long trousers and with a new shirt on his back and a cloth hat. No work to be done he whiled away the time, whittling at a piece of old firewood, carving a soldier on a horse for his younger sibling, the day wore on and the toy took shape as the rain began to wane, then as the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds hit his face and mere minutes later were blocked out by a man atop a large horse, glowering down at him "Name?" The man barked down at him
"Ademaro, sir," He replied timidly, looking up briefly, before looking back down at his feet.
"Long trousers lad, that makes you a man. You'll make your way up to the Tower House by the end of the week for militia duty," The rider snapped down at him.
"Yes sir, of course, sir, but I haven't a weapon, sir, should I try to find one? A shield?" He asked, voice soft and worried, the potential cost of equipment likely to ruin him.
"You'll be fitted for a jack and they'll find a spear and board for you on arrival, it'll be your first fortnights pay, you'd best have coin to feed yourself because we'll not feed you," The man replied, the words clearly said many times already.
"Thank you, sir" Adem responded swiftly, nodded rapidly in agreement "I'll be there as swift as I can get my things, sir." He stood and knelt to the man, presuming him to be a knight in his local lords employ.
The rider left and Ademaro set into his fathers house, setting the toy he'd made upon the table and gathering up his few possessions, a spare shirt and a knife to eat with before bidding farewell to his father and leaving a message to his mother before setting out on the road to the Tower House.
Wailing wind, dust whipped up down the way to the crossroads, golden light bathed the small hut in warmth as it blocked the cold wind. Leaning out of the breeze, bathed in warmth, twenty one, he let his gaze sweep lazily down the road, saw no one and retreated back from the wind, clad in a new black gambeson, edged in bright yellow cloth with shiny waxed oak buttons. He let his hand rest on the shaft of his spear, almost reflexively checking it was there, the need to know its location beaten into him over the past four years by the drill master.Time passed and a noise reached the hut Ademaro stood up straight as he heard a pair of hobnailed boots beating there way towards him. He took up his crude helmet, a boiled leather cap with a fleece lining painted a glossy black to match his uniform, and sat it atop his head before stepping out, spear in his right hand and a shield in his left, he struck the cobbles with the butt of his spear before turning to face the guardsman coming to replace him for the afternoons shift before nodding to the man and falling into easy conversation, waiting a good quarter of an hour before heading back to the barracks.
Drifting snow, blown gently on the breeze but seeming to move fast as an arrow, the pounding of hooves filling the senses,twenty three, riding at a steady canter Ademaro held his spear upright, a small wisp of yellow cloth below its point as he rushed down the road, scattering the odd team of workers as he rode hard towards the Tower House, shield over his back and a rolled parchment clasped between the reigns and his palm. His gambeson open to make his ride more comfortable let in the cold air and he shivered half from cold and half in anticipation, discharge in hand he headed steadily on to the quartermasters stores, returning the borrowed shield, painted with his lords sigil, the spear and gambeson his own now, along with the shining leather helm. The horse too must be returned, his time as a guardsman come to and end, having served as little more than a doorstop in a hut and a mounted courier for half a year he was being sent back to his parents with enough coin to buy himself a small home and see theirs improved modestly.
Two nights passed and the sun had set as he found himself approaching the house of his childhood, a spear over his shoulder and a bag of coins on his hip. He left his weapon and the padded coat outside and entered quietly, returned at once to his youth, he looked around and smiled to his parents, his mother seeming so much smaller and his father seeming that much more dour, he stood embarrassed for a few moments to be back, having seen them once in the years of his service to their lord, he spent the night speaking to his father, laying plans for where he might settle, whom he might marry and what he would do with the coin he had brought back. By the end of the night he was resolved, against his fathers wishes, he would not stay in the fields of his youth, but would take what coin he needed for his travel, to feed him and keep him watered as he went and leave the rest to his parents and younger brother, to buy the boy out of his own service. The next morning he left, setting out towards the end of the road, wherever it might lead him, his spear on his shoulder, gambeson draped like a cloak and a smile on his face, free of his past and loosed to the future, the rhythmic beat of parade ground marching in his hobnailed boots like a drummers call to the line.
