greys_n
Lord of Altera
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Greys_n
2. How old are you?
19
3. What country are you from? What is your timezone?
United States, UTC -5.
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 act of taking information gained out of character, and using it for in-character advantage. An example would be you having your character make a choice that spares them from something you're only aware of because you were told out of character.
Powergaming is the use of unrealistic roleplay for combat advantage. An example would be your character being unrealistically strong or automatically dodging everything coming at them. This can also happen by pre-emptively emoting someone else's reaction.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Tell us about yourself! Do you have any examples of your work?
I have a pet cat.
8. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
During 2017, from an old player that I couldn't remember the name of.
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About Your Character!
Character Name:
Ruvyn Elafiel.
Character Age:
53 years old.
Character Race:
Silver Elf.
Appearance:
Off-white, silvery hair with light blue eyes and light (but not pale-white) skin.
His ears are pointed and he wears generally loosely flowing clothes.
He's about six feet tall and limber, with a trained build despite having little muscle mass.
Having been with Humans, his style is geared toward labor.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Here. It's a little lighter in-game.
Written Test!
Thunderous waves crashed against the plated hull of a caravel-sized ship as it made its way across the sea. "Steady, lads!" shouted the vessel's bearded Captain while the ship continued to thrash against the force of the storm. If not for the crew being hard at work, the ship surely would've been engulfed by now. In a storage space below deck, Ruvyn sat in the fetal position whilst shouting curses silenced by the croak of the ship and the violent storm above. "This is it," thought the Silver Elf. Of his thirty-one years, the young adult had never once sailed; especially not through the depths of a storm.
Ruvyn was harshly thrown around the compartment between barrels and crates for a time, until a familiar voice pierced through the collective shouting of the deck outside. "Get up, we're nearly there!" called a younger Silver Elf who stuck his head through the doors. Ruvyn bit his cheek and reluctantly steadied himself; with a stumble toward the doors, he threw them open and stepped outside. With the younger Elf at his side, the two couldn't look more out of place. They were the only Elves aboard; the rest being half-clothed Humans that shouted in accents neither of the Elves could quite understand.
Suddenly, everyone on deck was nearly thrown from their footing as a piercing scrape was heard along the hull of the vessel. The ship was thrown aside; barrels, rope and water bounced around on deck while the crew scrambled into position. As Ruvyn and the smaller Elf huddled together against the railing, bundles of spears were brought up from below and hurriedly passed around to the crew. The men were shouting with a tone of urgency unlike before, and although Ruvyn couldn't quite understand them, he took the other Elf by the arm and stumbled back into storage.
The two sat atop some crates and held themselves steady while arguing in Elvish. "We never should've left," hissed Ruvyn through the sound of another nearby scrape. "They said it'd be two hours!" cried the young Elf. As he shouted, yet another scrape sounded from the hull. This time, the riveted boards that lined the inside of the room were violently shredded apart, splintering into pieces of wood that came flying in with the surge of water. "THEY LIED!" shouted Ruvyn as he dove toward the doors with the Elf's forearm in his iron grip. Making it onto the deck only spared them seconds as the entire cabin and stern of the vessel itself was blown apart; splinters and shards of iron blasted across the deck as shrapnel that sliced through the sails like butter. As Ruvyn raised his head to see what had happened, the ship began to capsize and the younger Elf that he held onto began sliding toward the watery depths. The Elf looked up and yelled, but nothing Ruvyn could make sense of through the sound of ringing bells and shouting from the scrambled crew.
After the final toll of an alarming bell, one of the towering masts fell onto the deck and threw the two overboard. Ruvyn faceplanted onto a large wood plank and his vision began to tunnel; only shouts muffled by the thunder above could be heard as he became unconscious.
The following morning, Ruvyn woke to the sound of seagulls. He was face-down across a piece of driftwood that floated against the shallow water of a beach. With a loud groan, he brought himself up from the plank and stumbled onto the dry sand. All that remained of his journey toward the island was a collection of driftwood; no bodies, crates or barrels had followed. He fell to his knees and held his head in either hand, falling into a state of panic and confusion on how to continue. At least he made it.
Greys_n
2. How old are you?
19
3. What country are you from? What is your timezone?
United States, UTC -5.
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 act of taking information gained out of character, and using it for in-character advantage. An example would be you having your character make a choice that spares them from something you're only aware of because you were told out of character.
Powergaming is the use of unrealistic roleplay for combat advantage. An example would be your character being unrealistically strong or automatically dodging everything coming at them. This can also happen by pre-emptively emoting someone else's reaction.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No.
7. Tell us about yourself! Do you have any examples of your work?
I have a pet cat.
8. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
During 2017, from an old player that I couldn't remember the name of.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Ruvyn Elafiel.
Character Age:
53 years old.
Character Race:
Silver Elf.
Appearance:
Off-white, silvery hair with light blue eyes and light (but not pale-white) skin.
His ears are pointed and he wears generally loosely flowing clothes.
He's about six feet tall and limber, with a trained build despite having little muscle mass.
Having been with Humans, his style is geared toward labor.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Here. It's a little lighter in-game.
Written Test!
It was on the midnight of a violent storm, some months after the discovery of the Eastern Continent in 2283.
Thunderous waves crashed against the plated hull of a caravel-sized ship as it made its way across the sea. "Steady, lads!" shouted the vessel's bearded Captain while the ship continued to thrash against the force of the storm. If not for the crew being hard at work, the ship surely would've been engulfed by now. In a storage space below deck, Ruvyn sat in the fetal position whilst shouting curses silenced by the croak of the ship and the violent storm above. "This is it," thought the Silver Elf. Of his thirty-one years, the young adult had never once sailed; especially not through the depths of a storm.
Ruvyn was harshly thrown around the compartment between barrels and crates for a time, until a familiar voice pierced through the collective shouting of the deck outside. "Get up, we're nearly there!" called a younger Silver Elf who stuck his head through the doors. Ruvyn bit his cheek and reluctantly steadied himself; with a stumble toward the doors, he threw them open and stepped outside. With the younger Elf at his side, the two couldn't look more out of place. They were the only Elves aboard; the rest being half-clothed Humans that shouted in accents neither of the Elves could quite understand.
Suddenly, everyone on deck was nearly thrown from their footing as a piercing scrape was heard along the hull of the vessel. The ship was thrown aside; barrels, rope and water bounced around on deck while the crew scrambled into position. As Ruvyn and the smaller Elf huddled together against the railing, bundles of spears were brought up from below and hurriedly passed around to the crew. The men were shouting with a tone of urgency unlike before, and although Ruvyn couldn't quite understand them, he took the other Elf by the arm and stumbled back into storage.
The two sat atop some crates and held themselves steady while arguing in Elvish. "We never should've left," hissed Ruvyn through the sound of another nearby scrape. "They said it'd be two hours!" cried the young Elf. As he shouted, yet another scrape sounded from the hull. This time, the riveted boards that lined the inside of the room were violently shredded apart, splintering into pieces of wood that came flying in with the surge of water. "THEY LIED!" shouted Ruvyn as he dove toward the doors with the Elf's forearm in his iron grip. Making it onto the deck only spared them seconds as the entire cabin and stern of the vessel itself was blown apart; splinters and shards of iron blasted across the deck as shrapnel that sliced through the sails like butter. As Ruvyn raised his head to see what had happened, the ship began to capsize and the younger Elf that he held onto began sliding toward the watery depths. The Elf looked up and yelled, but nothing Ruvyn could make sense of through the sound of ringing bells and shouting from the scrambled crew.
After the final toll of an alarming bell, one of the towering masts fell onto the deck and threw the two overboard. Ruvyn faceplanted onto a large wood plank and his vision began to tunnel; only shouts muffled by the thunder above could be heard as he became unconscious.
The following morning, Ruvyn woke to the sound of seagulls. He was face-down across a piece of driftwood that floated against the shallow water of a beach. With a loud groan, he brought himself up from the plank and stumbled onto the dry sand. All that remained of his journey toward the island was a collection of driftwood; no bodies, crates or barrels had followed. He fell to his knees and held his head in either hand, falling into a state of panic and confusion on how to continue. At least he made it.
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