Cascadie
Villager
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Cascadious
2. How old are you?
17.
3. What country are you from?
Canadia.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet?
Yep.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is when your character is portrayed as possessing knowledge that isn’t possible for them to know ICly, especially when gathered through OOC conversation.
Powergaming is when you demand that everyone bend over backwards to fulfill your pre-conceived narrative, despite how little sense it makes, because the whole world revolves around you and everyone knows it.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
Nope.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Cukie1
8. Tell us about yourself!
I’m irresponsible and I draw things. Terrible things.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
While I do consider myself an artist, builder, and writer, I don't really keep much (if any) of my serious works. As such, I unfortunately don't have any examples as of current, aside from the mandatory bit of literature I haphazardly wrote just now.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
Google referred me several years ago.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Tebbins Rellington Dunbrooke, or Toby Dunbrooke.
Character Age:
17.
Character Race:
Halfling.
Appearance:
Toby is a somewhat lean Halfling, of quite average stature, at 3'9" tall. His hair is fairly long, and sandy in colour, with a scraggly tuft of beard hanging from his lower jaw. He most certainly does not look like this entirely because I’m too lazy to make new skins every time I try joining an RP server.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
I haven’t quite figured out which skin I’m going to use yet, and I’m too lazy to take a screencap of it right now anyways.
Written Test!
“Name’s Toby, sir. Toby Dunbrooke.” I stated, in a considerably calm manner. It was, at the very least, as calmly as I could when faced with this behemoth of an innkeeper. “A’ight… Toby…” The man jotted something down on a scrap of paper. “Here’s yer key.” “Thank you kindly, sir…” I quipped, before turning tail and heading to my room.
Come morn, I was still beat. Not as exhausted as I had been the night before, mind you, but exhausted nonetheless. After a bit of a stretch, I found my way back to the front desk and handed in my key. A few seconds later and I was out the door. Quite recently, I’d somehow managed to lose an entire horse and cart. I don’t have the keenest sense of direction, so I should have been relatively unsurprised at my inability to locate my cart once I’d found my way back to the stalls. Nevertheless, I was.
Now wasn’t the time for flashbacks, though, as I had work to do. Rather, I was busy looking for work to do, but you know… Same difference. “Hey Smith, have any room in your bakery?” As per usual, the answer was no. Same went for old Baker’s Smithy. Get it? Sorry, it won’t happen again. Promise.
After a good few fruitless hours of scrounging around for some sort of legitimate income, I decided it would be better use of my time to try and catch myself a handful of fish. I’d spare you the details, but I have to hit 400 words somehow. I headed southeast, out of town a ways, before coming upon my usual spot. Before long, I’d carefully unfurled my net that’d been hidden around the base of a nearby shrub, and tossed it in the water.
I headed back into town with a good deal of fish. A sack-full, to be precise. Two thirds I sold to the butcher, and a quarter straight to the local tavern. And no, I’m not going to elaborate. Upon selling the majority of my fish, I headed back to the inn. “It’s Toby, again.” I piped, laying the nightly fee down upon the innkeeper’s desk. He grunted in reply, tossing me my key. I headed back to my room, inside which I gutted and boiled my one remaining fish. It was quite mediocre.
Three hundred ninety-nine words, exactly. Just to annoy you.
Cascadious
2. How old are you?
17.
3. What country are you from?
Canadia.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet?
Yep.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is when your character is portrayed as possessing knowledge that isn’t possible for them to know ICly, especially when gathered through OOC conversation.
Powergaming is when you demand that everyone bend over backwards to fulfill your pre-conceived narrative, despite how little sense it makes, because the whole world revolves around you and everyone knows it.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
Nope.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Cukie1
8. Tell us about yourself!
I’m irresponsible and I draw things. Terrible things.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
While I do consider myself an artist, builder, and writer, I don't really keep much (if any) of my serious works. As such, I unfortunately don't have any examples as of current, aside from the mandatory bit of literature I haphazardly wrote just now.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
Google referred me several years ago.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Tebbins Rellington Dunbrooke, or Toby Dunbrooke.
Character Age:
17.
Character Race:
Halfling.
Appearance:
Toby is a somewhat lean Halfling, of quite average stature, at 3'9" tall. His hair is fairly long, and sandy in colour, with a scraggly tuft of beard hanging from his lower jaw. He most certainly does not look like this entirely because I’m too lazy to make new skins every time I try joining an RP server.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
I haven’t quite figured out which skin I’m going to use yet, and I’m too lazy to take a screencap of it right now anyways.
Written Test!
“Name’s Toby, sir. Toby Dunbrooke.” I stated, in a considerably calm manner. It was, at the very least, as calmly as I could when faced with this behemoth of an innkeeper. “A’ight… Toby…” The man jotted something down on a scrap of paper. “Here’s yer key.” “Thank you kindly, sir…” I quipped, before turning tail and heading to my room.
Come morn, I was still beat. Not as exhausted as I had been the night before, mind you, but exhausted nonetheless. After a bit of a stretch, I found my way back to the front desk and handed in my key. A few seconds later and I was out the door. Quite recently, I’d somehow managed to lose an entire horse and cart. I don’t have the keenest sense of direction, so I should have been relatively unsurprised at my inability to locate my cart once I’d found my way back to the stalls. Nevertheless, I was.
Now wasn’t the time for flashbacks, though, as I had work to do. Rather, I was busy looking for work to do, but you know… Same difference. “Hey Smith, have any room in your bakery?” As per usual, the answer was no. Same went for old Baker’s Smithy. Get it? Sorry, it won’t happen again. Promise.
After a good few fruitless hours of scrounging around for some sort of legitimate income, I decided it would be better use of my time to try and catch myself a handful of fish. I’d spare you the details, but I have to hit 400 words somehow. I headed southeast, out of town a ways, before coming upon my usual spot. Before long, I’d carefully unfurled my net that’d been hidden around the base of a nearby shrub, and tossed it in the water.
I headed back into town with a good deal of fish. A sack-full, to be precise. Two thirds I sold to the butcher, and a quarter straight to the local tavern. And no, I’m not going to elaborate. Upon selling the majority of my fish, I headed back to the inn. “It’s Toby, again.” I piped, laying the nightly fee down upon the innkeeper’s desk. He grunted in reply, tossing me my key. I headed back to my room, inside which I gutted and boiled my one remaining fish. It was quite mediocre.
Three hundred ninety-nine words, exactly. Just to annoy you.
