bleyjo
Lord of Altera
bleyjo
Minecraft Usernames: Bleyjo | bleyjotoo | bleyjoaswell | stillbleyjo
Age: 23
Country & Timezone: Scotland, UK - BST
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?:
Metagaming is using or acting on information in-character that was obtained out of character.
E.G. Knowing another character's name even though it hadn't been spoken, or knowing the location of someone because you can see where they are on Dynmap.
Powergaming is enforcing your will on the scenario you're roleplaying in, with complete disregard to what's realistically possible at the time and what the wants of others are.
E.G. In a combat scenario, a powergamer could demand that their axe swing broke their opponents weapon in two, or that a wound that would normally be fatal is shrugged off like it was nothing more than a flesh wound.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!:
Heya, I'm Bleyjo, a Scottish player who used to play on HollowWorld like nearly ten years ago. Since leaving in winter of 2013, I've moved through various different roleplaying communities. These nine years have seen me grow up into an adult in my mid 20's now, so I'm curious on how HollowWorld has changed from how I remember it in my early teen years. I have also, outside of roleplaying, obtained a bachelor's degree in Computing Science. This counts as sentence number 5. I know there's a "rewhitelist" option, but since it's been basically 10 years I thought it'd probably be better just to start fresh eh?
Referral: 10 years younger me
________________________________________
Character Name: Patrin Gar
Age: 31
Race: Halfling
Appearance: Other than his very short stature, the most noticeable feature of Patrin is his very thick, neatly trimmed set of soil-coloured mutton chops that sprout from his cheeks, and the thick eyebrows that rest above his eyes. He sports a few layers of clothing, with a dull blue shirt being layered by a reddish-brown tabard. Pinned to the tabard is a fur shawl that runs around his shoulders, keeping him warm in colder weathers.
Picture of the Skin:
Written Test (Min: 400 words):
His heartbeat races faster than an ash hound. His hand covers his mouth and nose, trying to muffle the sound of his breathing. His other hand clutches onto the ring in his palm, too big for his halfling hand to adorn properly.
“Fan out, find that little shit!” echoes down the alleyway, before the sound of metal boots rhythmically marching in tandem follows. Patrin tucks himself further into the nook he’d stumbled on in his rush to hide from the guards, hoping that his attempt at hiding from them had worked.
With each ensemble of footsteps, his halfling heart skips a beat. Every step echoes along the stone walls like waves crashing off a cliff. Patrin was sure that each footstep would be the last, especially so when the shine of the marching guards’ shin armour glinted into his eyes. However, his heart began to beat again as he watched them continue to storm past him. Even the echoing drumbeat of the footsteps faded from the alleyway. Slowly, he peaked his head out to check their point of entry to see if the captain was still scouting the area. To his satisfaction, Patrin looked only on the unsuspecting public passing by on their daily journies. As quickly as he’d ducked into the alley, he escaped back along the path he’d came in.
His free hand reaches up to his hair, grasping firmly onto it and dragging away the wig that had donned his head. As he walks past a wagon resting outside a store front, he tosses it onto it like it was meant to be there the whole time. His head rotates around him like an owl, scanning his environment for guards on his way back to the rondevous. As quick as a whip, his hand digs under his tabard to place the ring into a secure pouch before drawing out a folded parchment. His hands get to busying themselves unfolding it, revealing to him a map of the city with various dotted lines tracing themselves to one singular spot on the outskirts.
Patrin’s focus shifts away from the map for a moment, trying to pinpoint his location through features. After figuring the location of the street corner on the map, he uses his finger to trace a route towards the nearest dotted line path. It was at this point, however, in his moment of focus on the map he’d failed to notice the guards approaching him. With a thud, his lowered head collides with a ‘thud’ against the metal of a guard’s armour.
He slowly looks up at the goliath human standing in front of him. “Ah shit..” he mutters, spinning on his heels and sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Age: 23
Country & Timezone: Scotland, UK - BST
Read the Kings Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides?: Yes
Define Metagaming & Powergaming?:
Metagaming is using or acting on information in-character that was obtained out of character.
E.G. Knowing another character's name even though it hadn't been spoken, or knowing the location of someone because you can see where they are on Dynmap.
Powergaming is enforcing your will on the scenario you're roleplaying in, with complete disregard to what's realistically possible at the time and what the wants of others are.
E.G. In a combat scenario, a powergamer could demand that their axe swing broke their opponents weapon in two, or that a wound that would normally be fatal is shrugged off like it was nothing more than a flesh wound.
Do we allow Xray mods or X-Ray texture packs?: No
Tell us about yourself!:
Heya, I'm Bleyjo, a Scottish player who used to play on HollowWorld like nearly ten years ago. Since leaving in winter of 2013, I've moved through various different roleplaying communities. These nine years have seen me grow up into an adult in my mid 20's now, so I'm curious on how HollowWorld has changed from how I remember it in my early teen years. I have also, outside of roleplaying, obtained a bachelor's degree in Computing Science. This counts as sentence number 5. I know there's a "rewhitelist" option, but since it's been basically 10 years I thought it'd probably be better just to start fresh eh?
Referral: 10 years younger me
________________________________________
Character Name: Patrin Gar
Age: 31
Race: Halfling
Appearance: Other than his very short stature, the most noticeable feature of Patrin is his very thick, neatly trimmed set of soil-coloured mutton chops that sprout from his cheeks, and the thick eyebrows that rest above his eyes. He sports a few layers of clothing, with a dull blue shirt being layered by a reddish-brown tabard. Pinned to the tabard is a fur shawl that runs around his shoulders, keeping him warm in colder weathers.
Picture of the Skin:
Written Test (Min: 400 words):
His heartbeat races faster than an ash hound. His hand covers his mouth and nose, trying to muffle the sound of his breathing. His other hand clutches onto the ring in his palm, too big for his halfling hand to adorn properly.
“Fan out, find that little shit!” echoes down the alleyway, before the sound of metal boots rhythmically marching in tandem follows. Patrin tucks himself further into the nook he’d stumbled on in his rush to hide from the guards, hoping that his attempt at hiding from them had worked.
With each ensemble of footsteps, his halfling heart skips a beat. Every step echoes along the stone walls like waves crashing off a cliff. Patrin was sure that each footstep would be the last, especially so when the shine of the marching guards’ shin armour glinted into his eyes. However, his heart began to beat again as he watched them continue to storm past him. Even the echoing drumbeat of the footsteps faded from the alleyway. Slowly, he peaked his head out to check their point of entry to see if the captain was still scouting the area. To his satisfaction, Patrin looked only on the unsuspecting public passing by on their daily journies. As quickly as he’d ducked into the alley, he escaped back along the path he’d came in.
His free hand reaches up to his hair, grasping firmly onto it and dragging away the wig that had donned his head. As he walks past a wagon resting outside a store front, he tosses it onto it like it was meant to be there the whole time. His head rotates around him like an owl, scanning his environment for guards on his way back to the rondevous. As quick as a whip, his hand digs under his tabard to place the ring into a secure pouch before drawing out a folded parchment. His hands get to busying themselves unfolding it, revealing to him a map of the city with various dotted lines tracing themselves to one singular spot on the outskirts.
Patrin’s focus shifts away from the map for a moment, trying to pinpoint his location through features. After figuring the location of the street corner on the map, he uses his finger to trace a route towards the nearest dotted line path. It was at this point, however, in his moment of focus on the map he’d failed to notice the guards approaching him. With a thud, his lowered head collides with a ‘thud’ against the metal of a guard’s armour.
He slowly looks up at the goliath human standing in front of him. “Ah shit..” he mutters, spinning on his heels and sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him.
