About You!
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Xehilox
2. How old are you?
16
3. What country are you from?
United States
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 can be a variety of things, but is most commonly characterized as using prior or outside knowledge to benefit your character in game. This can include using knowledge gained by playing as a previous character or looking to the forums or chats for information that you use in game, therefore making it metagaming.
Powergaming is roleplaying absolutes that involve more than just your own character. Powergaming is forcing actions or consequences upon other players without giving them a chance to interject with their own roleplay. For example, “Character A pushes Character B off the cliff to his death.”
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Niko, or SirNicholas14
8. Tell us about yourself!
I’m Kayla! I’m an aspiring writer with a deep passion for music. I play piano, saxophone, and ukulele and the genres I really jam to are jazz, groove metal, and salsa. I’m also a big fan of video games; my favorites at the moment are Overwatch and Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice. I have a weakness for all things melon-flavored and Studio Ghibli. I also program for my FIRST Robotics team; if you need something dumb made in Java, I’m your gal~
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
Sorry, I'm a bit shy.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I found this server because I was on a few Dungeon and Dragons Minecraft servers and I was looking for something less mechanically heavy and more story-driven. I just searched for “Medieval Minecraft servers” on Google, and found HollowWorld.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Ceilidh Vause
Character Age:
23
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Her eyes are an soft, unassuming brown against fair skin. A tad overweight for her average stature of about 5’4, Ceilidh hides herself under an interestingly…”weathered” cloak of dirty mauve. Her worn-in boots are always muddy. Mousy oak bangs held out of her face by two emerald ornaments peek out from under her hood. Her hands are deft and nimble, their poise revealing an underlying gracefulness amongst her otherwise disheveled appearance.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Written Test!
The Blue Magpie was awfully dead for a Saturday night. The usually bustling waterhole seated only a couple staggering drunks, rather than the typical dozen.
The hearth roared and licked the ceiling as usual, warding off the bitter wind howling through the front door; its wispy flames devoured shadows and gifted the tavern with a sympathetic warmth.
“Maybe it’s the rain.” dryly suggested Ann, the weathered old woman who owned the place and served overpriced drinks every night. An overflowing tankard was slid in front of the young hooded woman as she fell into a seat at the bar.
She drank deeply. It wasn’t raining.
‘Why is it so empty?’ she pondered to herself. She drew from her tankard again. Something was off. The hunt returned last night; it should be full as ever…
Ceilidh felt a small tug at her cloak that yanked her away from her speculation.
“I thought only royalty was allowed to wear purple.” She turned to meet the wide eyes of a young boy no older than ten. His face was round and chubby and crowned with a mop of tangled blond. He stared, transfixed at the dusty mauve hood that swallowed her body. Why he was in the Magpie, she hadn’t the slightest idea.
Not missing a beat, she looked at him with a humorously pointed expression. “I am royalty.”
“No you’re not.” he shook his head knowingly. “Princesses are supposed to be pretty.”
The small utility blade she had been absentmindedly spinning around her thumb stopped its dance as she let out a genuine chuckle. “Yeah,” she grinned devilishly. “You caught me.”
“Tell me,” Ceilidh burped. “Why in the gracious name of Sallana are you in a tavern? Especially this tavern.” That earned a guffaw from the barkeep who took to shining glasses with an already dirtied rag. “Where are your parents?”
The boy shrugged with a true innocence. “Iunno.”
“Kids…” she muttered under her breath. “You’re already here,” she sighed and patted the seat next to her with a shake of her bangs. “Might as well wait for the unlucky sod that’s lookin’ for ya anyways. Whataya want?”
Apparently not used to being offered much, the boy climbed into the stool eagerly. He sat on his hands. “Can I really get something?”
“Why the hell not?”
“You shouldn’t swear.”
“Thought you wanted a drink... ” she cracked, laughing internally at his naivety. “Though with that mouth of yours, I doubt you’ll be served anything.” Ceilidh tipped the last of the mead into her mouth and wiped it with the back of her sleeve. “Don’t come into a tavern and start bossing the adults around, eh?”
“I want what you’re drinking.” he declared with tentative confidence, the kind you see in young racehorses.
She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “And you think your parents will be okay with that?”
“They won’t mind.” He was green. She didn’t know his name.
Ceilidh waved down the barkeep as the tired tinkering of the tavern faded to the background. ‘Best to just enjoy the little things,’ she reckoned, ‘...and wait for the Gods to choose our fate.’
Things weren’t normal, for sure. There was something wrong, she could feel it. The hunt wasn’t here, there were children in places children shouldn’t be, and the air was getting colder by the minute.
“Two,” she chuckled anyways. She nudged one of them in front of the boy, which mind you, was bigger than his head, and rested both elbows on the bar. She felt herself grow strangely fond of the lad as he puckered through the bitter drink, pretending he liked it.
Together they sat, side by side, drinking and burping and waiting.
It started to rain.
---
Current Setting of the Server:
As the last galleys pull into port from the Northern Kingdoms, so too do they mark the end of the Exodus. A dark and desperate chapter in Altera's history.
The undead swarms had battered us, and the Sea of Storms had bruised us, yet here we were, alive. Alive in a brave new frontier to the east, and the flickering embers of our dying lands were now kindling the fires of new civilization, in a land of opportunity, vast and boundless.
Now, for the first ti,e in a long time, there is hope. Hope of a new chapter, a new beginning and a clean slate. Yet there is also fear. Fear of the land unknown, and the danger untold. There is fear that, in spreading the light, we draw the ire of what lies in the shadows. In this new land, it even seems as if demons and the explainable come out to play.
But no matter the opinions on the subject, there is one thing that may be said for certain.
Life on Altera was about to change
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Xehilox
2. How old are you?
16
3. What country are you from?
United States
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 can be a variety of things, but is most commonly characterized as using prior or outside knowledge to benefit your character in game. This can include using knowledge gained by playing as a previous character or looking to the forums or chats for information that you use in game, therefore making it metagaming.
Powergaming is roleplaying absolutes that involve more than just your own character. Powergaming is forcing actions or consequences upon other players without giving them a chance to interject with their own roleplay. For example, “Character A pushes Character B off the cliff to his death.”
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Niko, or SirNicholas14
8. Tell us about yourself!
I’m Kayla! I’m an aspiring writer with a deep passion for music. I play piano, saxophone, and ukulele and the genres I really jam to are jazz, groove metal, and salsa. I’m also a big fan of video games; my favorites at the moment are Overwatch and Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice. I have a weakness for all things melon-flavored and Studio Ghibli. I also program for my FIRST Robotics team; if you need something dumb made in Java, I’m your gal~
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
Sorry, I'm a bit shy.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I found this server because I was on a few Dungeon and Dragons Minecraft servers and I was looking for something less mechanically heavy and more story-driven. I just searched for “Medieval Minecraft servers” on Google, and found HollowWorld.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Ceilidh Vause
Character Age:
23
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Her eyes are an soft, unassuming brown against fair skin. A tad overweight for her average stature of about 5’4, Ceilidh hides herself under an interestingly…”weathered” cloak of dirty mauve. Her worn-in boots are always muddy. Mousy oak bangs held out of her face by two emerald ornaments peek out from under her hood. Her hands are deft and nimble, their poise revealing an underlying gracefulness amongst her otherwise disheveled appearance.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Written Test!
The Blue Magpie was awfully dead for a Saturday night. The usually bustling waterhole seated only a couple staggering drunks, rather than the typical dozen.
The hearth roared and licked the ceiling as usual, warding off the bitter wind howling through the front door; its wispy flames devoured shadows and gifted the tavern with a sympathetic warmth.
“Maybe it’s the rain.” dryly suggested Ann, the weathered old woman who owned the place and served overpriced drinks every night. An overflowing tankard was slid in front of the young hooded woman as she fell into a seat at the bar.
She drank deeply. It wasn’t raining.
‘Why is it so empty?’ she pondered to herself. She drew from her tankard again. Something was off. The hunt returned last night; it should be full as ever…
Ceilidh felt a small tug at her cloak that yanked her away from her speculation.
“I thought only royalty was allowed to wear purple.” She turned to meet the wide eyes of a young boy no older than ten. His face was round and chubby and crowned with a mop of tangled blond. He stared, transfixed at the dusty mauve hood that swallowed her body. Why he was in the Magpie, she hadn’t the slightest idea.
Not missing a beat, she looked at him with a humorously pointed expression. “I am royalty.”
“No you’re not.” he shook his head knowingly. “Princesses are supposed to be pretty.”
The small utility blade she had been absentmindedly spinning around her thumb stopped its dance as she let out a genuine chuckle. “Yeah,” she grinned devilishly. “You caught me.”
“Tell me,” Ceilidh burped. “Why in the gracious name of Sallana are you in a tavern? Especially this tavern.” That earned a guffaw from the barkeep who took to shining glasses with an already dirtied rag. “Where are your parents?”
The boy shrugged with a true innocence. “Iunno.”
“Kids…” she muttered under her breath. “You’re already here,” she sighed and patted the seat next to her with a shake of her bangs. “Might as well wait for the unlucky sod that’s lookin’ for ya anyways. Whataya want?”
Apparently not used to being offered much, the boy climbed into the stool eagerly. He sat on his hands. “Can I really get something?”
“Why the hell not?”
“You shouldn’t swear.”
“Thought you wanted a drink... ” she cracked, laughing internally at his naivety. “Though with that mouth of yours, I doubt you’ll be served anything.” Ceilidh tipped the last of the mead into her mouth and wiped it with the back of her sleeve. “Don’t come into a tavern and start bossing the adults around, eh?”
“I want what you’re drinking.” he declared with tentative confidence, the kind you see in young racehorses.
She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “And you think your parents will be okay with that?”
“They won’t mind.” He was green. She didn’t know his name.
Ceilidh waved down the barkeep as the tired tinkering of the tavern faded to the background. ‘Best to just enjoy the little things,’ she reckoned, ‘...and wait for the Gods to choose our fate.’
Things weren’t normal, for sure. There was something wrong, she could feel it. The hunt wasn’t here, there were children in places children shouldn’t be, and the air was getting colder by the minute.
“Two,” she chuckled anyways. She nudged one of them in front of the boy, which mind you, was bigger than his head, and rested both elbows on the bar. She felt herself grow strangely fond of the lad as he puckered through the bitter drink, pretending he liked it.
Together they sat, side by side, drinking and burping and waiting.
It started to rain.
---
Current Setting of the Server:
As the last galleys pull into port from the Northern Kingdoms, so too do they mark the end of the Exodus. A dark and desperate chapter in Altera's history.
The undead swarms had battered us, and the Sea of Storms had bruised us, yet here we were, alive. Alive in a brave new frontier to the east, and the flickering embers of our dying lands were now kindling the fires of new civilization, in a land of opportunity, vast and boundless.
Now, for the first ti,e in a long time, there is hope. Hope of a new chapter, a new beginning and a clean slate. Yet there is also fear. Fear of the land unknown, and the danger untold. There is fear that, in spreading the light, we draw the ire of what lies in the shadows. In this new land, it even seems as if demons and the explainable come out to play.
But no matter the opinions on the subject, there is one thing that may be said for certain.
Life on Altera was about to change
