ThatMorbidBanter
Evil
1. What is your Minecraft username?
ThatMorbidBanter
2. How old are you?
Nineteen.
3. What country are you from?
The angry one that likes freedom too much.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yup, a while ago. Went over it again before writing this though.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming: Using information IC which you have gained through OOC means, or which your character should not be be privy to.
Powergaming: Using unfair RP means to make yourself more powerful and/or remove the ability for action/choice from other players.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
Not when I was last here, at least. If that's changed, please, let me know.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
I think that Jase is still a mentor, so that's one friendly face to see again.
8. Tell us about yourself!
A relatively short time ago, I made my first application, and came to become a recurring nuisance on the server, making many friends along the way. My hobbies include sitting alone in my basement writing about people that don't exist, drinking things that will slowly kill me, and watching streams from people funnier than I am. I also do other forms of RP (mostly D&D), and make puns that turn my friends against me.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
That'll be the written portion of the test.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I've been missing the server for a while, so I guess HollowWorld has kind of been it's own referral.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Benedick Jefferson
Character Age:
20
Character Race:
Halfling
Appearance:
His slim, childish face is crowned with a tussle of thick, auburn curls, and is adorned with twinkling brown eyes, a slight nose, and a small mustache and goatee which he grew in an attempt to be mistaken for a child less often, yet only seems to make him look younger. At three-foot six inches in height, and weighing just over three stone, he is hardly an intimidating presence in his oversized coat.
Written Test!
Quill and ink? Yup, probably be needing that. Hourglass? Well... if that breaks, that's a lot of sand... eh, leave it. Letter opener? You can never be too careful. These were the sort of thoughts flying haphazardly through the head of one Benedick Jefferson, an underpaid clerk at an unfortunately disgusting shipyard, as he began stuffing anything he could get his little hands on into a satchel which happened to be far too large for him. Pens, paper, that odd paperweight in the shape of a rude gesture- well, maybe not that. After successfully managing to ransack his own desk, Benedick proceeded to, for good measure, find a large gutted herring, and drop it on his supervisor's table. A memorable resignation, to be sure. As he walked out of the stuffy, ugly confines of the dockmaster's office, Benedick felt a sense of complete serenity. The sun was just rising on the horizon, leaving golden tiaras of dawn's light on the crest of each wave. The ocean breeze hit his curls playfully, causing them to jump hither and thither on his face. He hoped he could still feel that breeze wherever he wound up next, though preferably not the scent of fish entrails. Now that he could live without. Turning on his little heel, he slowly made his was down the docks, whistling a tune to himself to pass the time. It wasn't exactly the merriest of songs, but far from melancholy either. It fluctuated, joyful here, sorrowful there, but always in perfect flow. Benedick had grown fond of the tune when he had heard it while studying once, and it would seem it stuck about ever since. Not that he minded, of course. In his mind, it was his song, his life put in a catchy tune. Ups and downs, surprises and expectations, and despite its madness it somehow it always held the same order, the same law to it. A malleable yet strong governing system of notes binding all of the outliers together. He chuckled a bit to himself, comparing lawfulness to a song. It was a bit far-fetched to be sure, but in his mind it was all art. There was just as much art in drafting a fair and just law as there was in composing a symphony, and about as much ink and parchment. Treatises, canons, contracts, all ideas he viewed the same way that a conductor views brass, woodwinds, and strings. And oh how he longed to sing out with pen and paper, to compose a great sonata of legislations that the people of Altera could benefit from and sing of for years to come. To be the man that his childhood self dreamed of, to fairly and honestly make his way up the ladder of society until he was able to finally bring about the order and structure that this world needed. He would-
"What teh' hell'r ye' doin'?"
The gruff voice snapped him from his fantasies. He was facing a rather ornery looking human sailor, almost twice his height, who seemed to be just as confused as he was. It was only then that he remembered that he'd, but moments before drifting off into his mind, been trying to get aboard a ship bound for a port somewhere that, thankfully, was far from here.
"Oh! Oh sorry about that. So... how much was a one-way trip again?"
"Twent'ty radiants." the aggravated sailor snapped.
Without hesitation, Benedick handed over half of his savings from the past year, and started to scamper aboard the ship. Just before he hopped aboard, he took one last look at the dingy, joyless port that had been his home for these past twenty years. A part of him would miss it, he truly would, but this was what he had to do. No more menial work, no more fishmongering, no more keeping records for a fat old dwarven man who couldn't see out of one eye. From here on out, things were going to go his way. Well... at least he hoped they would. Taking a deep breath in, he hopped aboard the ship, satchel at his side, prepared for whatever was to come next. Onward, to Storm's Landing!
ThatMorbidBanter
2. How old are you?
Nineteen.
3. What country are you from?
The angry one that likes freedom too much.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yup, a while ago. Went over it again before writing this though.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming: Using information IC which you have gained through OOC means, or which your character should not be be privy to.
Powergaming: Using unfair RP means to make yourself more powerful and/or remove the ability for action/choice from other players.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
Not when I was last here, at least. If that's changed, please, let me know.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
I think that Jase is still a mentor, so that's one friendly face to see again.
8. Tell us about yourself!
A relatively short time ago, I made my first application, and came to become a recurring nuisance on the server, making many friends along the way. My hobbies include sitting alone in my basement writing about people that don't exist, drinking things that will slowly kill me, and watching streams from people funnier than I am. I also do other forms of RP (mostly D&D), and make puns that turn my friends against me.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
That'll be the written portion of the test.
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I've been missing the server for a while, so I guess HollowWorld has kind of been it's own referral.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Benedick Jefferson
Character Age:
20
Character Race:
Halfling
Appearance:
His slim, childish face is crowned with a tussle of thick, auburn curls, and is adorned with twinkling brown eyes, a slight nose, and a small mustache and goatee which he grew in an attempt to be mistaken for a child less often, yet only seems to make him look younger. At three-foot six inches in height, and weighing just over three stone, he is hardly an intimidating presence in his oversized coat.
Written Test!
Quill and ink? Yup, probably be needing that. Hourglass? Well... if that breaks, that's a lot of sand... eh, leave it. Letter opener? You can never be too careful. These were the sort of thoughts flying haphazardly through the head of one Benedick Jefferson, an underpaid clerk at an unfortunately disgusting shipyard, as he began stuffing anything he could get his little hands on into a satchel which happened to be far too large for him. Pens, paper, that odd paperweight in the shape of a rude gesture- well, maybe not that. After successfully managing to ransack his own desk, Benedick proceeded to, for good measure, find a large gutted herring, and drop it on his supervisor's table. A memorable resignation, to be sure. As he walked out of the stuffy, ugly confines of the dockmaster's office, Benedick felt a sense of complete serenity. The sun was just rising on the horizon, leaving golden tiaras of dawn's light on the crest of each wave. The ocean breeze hit his curls playfully, causing them to jump hither and thither on his face. He hoped he could still feel that breeze wherever he wound up next, though preferably not the scent of fish entrails. Now that he could live without. Turning on his little heel, he slowly made his was down the docks, whistling a tune to himself to pass the time. It wasn't exactly the merriest of songs, but far from melancholy either. It fluctuated, joyful here, sorrowful there, but always in perfect flow. Benedick had grown fond of the tune when he had heard it while studying once, and it would seem it stuck about ever since. Not that he minded, of course. In his mind, it was his song, his life put in a catchy tune. Ups and downs, surprises and expectations, and despite its madness it somehow it always held the same order, the same law to it. A malleable yet strong governing system of notes binding all of the outliers together. He chuckled a bit to himself, comparing lawfulness to a song. It was a bit far-fetched to be sure, but in his mind it was all art. There was just as much art in drafting a fair and just law as there was in composing a symphony, and about as much ink and parchment. Treatises, canons, contracts, all ideas he viewed the same way that a conductor views brass, woodwinds, and strings. And oh how he longed to sing out with pen and paper, to compose a great sonata of legislations that the people of Altera could benefit from and sing of for years to come. To be the man that his childhood self dreamed of, to fairly and honestly make his way up the ladder of society until he was able to finally bring about the order and structure that this world needed. He would-
"What teh' hell'r ye' doin'?"
The gruff voice snapped him from his fantasies. He was facing a rather ornery looking human sailor, almost twice his height, who seemed to be just as confused as he was. It was only then that he remembered that he'd, but moments before drifting off into his mind, been trying to get aboard a ship bound for a port somewhere that, thankfully, was far from here.
"Oh! Oh sorry about that. So... how much was a one-way trip again?"
"Twent'ty radiants." the aggravated sailor snapped.
Without hesitation, Benedick handed over half of his savings from the past year, and started to scamper aboard the ship. Just before he hopped aboard, he took one last look at the dingy, joyless port that had been his home for these past twenty years. A part of him would miss it, he truly would, but this was what he had to do. No more menial work, no more fishmongering, no more keeping records for a fat old dwarven man who couldn't see out of one eye. From here on out, things were going to go his way. Well... at least he hoped they would. Taking a deep breath in, he hopped aboard the ship, satchel at his side, prepared for whatever was to come next. Onward, to Storm's Landing!
