1. What is your Minecraft username?
Fallen_Deity
2. How old are you?
15 years old
3. What country are you from?
America
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
I have read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, and much of the Player Guides and Official Lore. I tend to be more of a person to learn through repetition and story telling for lore and guidelines.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is using knowledge that your character in game would not have in order to augment your IC experience.
Powergaming is making your character unnecessarily or unrealistically strong or undefeatable. It can also apply when you don't give the person or people you are roleplaying with the option to do anything about your actions.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Niko
8. Tell us about yourself!
One of my favourite hobbies is to read and act as a moderater on another server I play on. I like most music but country, metal being an interest of mine currently. I tend to not pay attention in school due to me being ahead of the class already. I recently won a gold medal at the state level in Skills USA and I am going to nationals soon! I used to roleplay but stopped as the server I was on died due to player inactivity.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
I do not.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I googled Minecraft Medieval Roleplay Server
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Seyral Leremon
Character Age:
17 years old
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Seyral is a short woman, around 5'3", with well brushed, long, fiery red hair. Her eyes shine a dark seedweed, a sparkle within them whenever she laughs. She has tan skin that was fair once, due to her traveling in the sun. She normally wears plain clothing, to match her hair in a more subdued colour. She is quite a fan of skirts.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Due to moderating on another server I do not have the ability to change my skin. When my character is fleshed out more, I will provide a more in depth description along with my story.
Written Test!
As I lay in my bed, a day long at work for a man I know not of, I think back to my past to avoid the scratching of filthy fleas on my body. My eyes begin to grow weary, drowsing as my mind lapses into what once was.
I see before me a log of wood, a dagger in my hand. This is it, I thought. The last thing I could do to prove myself to my family. A stupid, minor, idiotic skill that served no purpose. A few cuts. A slash there. The wood shavings fly off into my eyes, stinging me and driving tears out of my eyes. I am determined to make this the best I can. Simple pains of the flesh cannot slow me in a race against time. Just as I make the final cut, the piece coming together even as I look at it from a new angle, my hand seizes, gods those uncontrollable spasms of mine... And ruined. The piece lies in twain upon the floor. Tears flow from my eyes, this time not from the pain of wood, but from the pain of neglect as my parents shake their heads and turn away from me. Shunned. Shunned! How dare they, a piece of my mind thinks. How dare they act upon their own child this way? But even as I see their hair, gleaming a red to match the sun, my anger fades. Of course they shun me. I cannot do what the village needs. I pick up the packs at my side, prepared for just a scenario like this, and walk the opposite direction of my parents.
The grass is cool beneath my feet. The dew in the shade, left from the morning sunrise, washing away the dirt from my feet as the thoughts from my head. I simply walk, part of the village's customs. You walk and walk until you can walk no more and then walk some more. Walk until you don't know where home is. And so I'm forced to find a new home.
And so the village idiot girl was forced out by her own will, stumbling upon a farm. A farm upon which a farmer handed me a spare scythe and said get to work. I get food, but nothing like I harvest in a day. Even someone so clumsy can wield a scythe.
But why should I have to? The thought strikes me. A flea bites me. And so I roll out of bed, drop to a knee, and begin to pray. Pray there is some good left in me, something hidden that I am good at in this world. I rise from my knee, the time passed measured only by the biting of a rock into my soft flesh. I grab my packs, just as before, and begin to walk away. The scythe is the only thing I take with me, leaving behind my sorrow in its stead.
Fallen_Deity
2. How old are you?
15 years old
3. What country are you from?
America
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
I have read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, and much of the Player Guides and Official Lore. I tend to be more of a person to learn through repetition and story telling for lore and guidelines.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is using knowledge that your character in game would not have in order to augment your IC experience.
Powergaming is making your character unnecessarily or unrealistically strong or undefeatable. It can also apply when you don't give the person or people you are roleplaying with the option to do anything about your actions.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Niko
8. Tell us about yourself!
One of my favourite hobbies is to read and act as a moderater on another server I play on. I like most music but country, metal being an interest of mine currently. I tend to not pay attention in school due to me being ahead of the class already. I recently won a gold medal at the state level in Skills USA and I am going to nationals soon! I used to roleplay but stopped as the server I was on died due to player inactivity.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
I do not.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I googled Minecraft Medieval Roleplay Server
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Seyral Leremon
Character Age:
17 years old
Character Race:
Human
Appearance:
Seyral is a short woman, around 5'3", with well brushed, long, fiery red hair. Her eyes shine a dark seedweed, a sparkle within them whenever she laughs. She has tan skin that was fair once, due to her traveling in the sun. She normally wears plain clothing, to match her hair in a more subdued colour. She is quite a fan of skirts.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Due to moderating on another server I do not have the ability to change my skin. When my character is fleshed out more, I will provide a more in depth description along with my story.
Written Test!
As I lay in my bed, a day long at work for a man I know not of, I think back to my past to avoid the scratching of filthy fleas on my body. My eyes begin to grow weary, drowsing as my mind lapses into what once was.
I see before me a log of wood, a dagger in my hand. This is it, I thought. The last thing I could do to prove myself to my family. A stupid, minor, idiotic skill that served no purpose. A few cuts. A slash there. The wood shavings fly off into my eyes, stinging me and driving tears out of my eyes. I am determined to make this the best I can. Simple pains of the flesh cannot slow me in a race against time. Just as I make the final cut, the piece coming together even as I look at it from a new angle, my hand seizes, gods those uncontrollable spasms of mine... And ruined. The piece lies in twain upon the floor. Tears flow from my eyes, this time not from the pain of wood, but from the pain of neglect as my parents shake their heads and turn away from me. Shunned. Shunned! How dare they, a piece of my mind thinks. How dare they act upon their own child this way? But even as I see their hair, gleaming a red to match the sun, my anger fades. Of course they shun me. I cannot do what the village needs. I pick up the packs at my side, prepared for just a scenario like this, and walk the opposite direction of my parents.
The grass is cool beneath my feet. The dew in the shade, left from the morning sunrise, washing away the dirt from my feet as the thoughts from my head. I simply walk, part of the village's customs. You walk and walk until you can walk no more and then walk some more. Walk until you don't know where home is. And so I'm forced to find a new home.
And so the village idiot girl was forced out by her own will, stumbling upon a farm. A farm upon which a farmer handed me a spare scythe and said get to work. I get food, but nothing like I harvest in a day. Even someone so clumsy can wield a scythe.
But why should I have to? The thought strikes me. A flea bites me. And so I roll out of bed, drop to a knee, and begin to pray. Pray there is some good left in me, something hidden that I am good at in this world. I rise from my knee, the time passed measured only by the biting of a rock into my soft flesh. I grab my packs, just as before, and begin to walk away. The scythe is the only thing I take with me, leaving behind my sorrow in its stead.
