Samwych
Merchant
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Samwych
2. How old are you?
Recently turned 19 on the 27th of July!
3. What country are you from?
United States!
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yep!
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is using OOC (Out of Character) Information, and using it in character. Example: Learning a characters name/where they come from when they just met.
And Power gaming is forcing your actions upon another player, generally being more powerful/stronger than other players and being unfair.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
You sure as heck do not!
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Jinny! (AKA Seollal)
8. Tell us about yourself!
Hello! My name is Samwych, but please call me Sam for short! I enjoy drawing, writing, and cooking the most. I really love rock music but I’m down for just about anything that isn’t country. My favorite bands are PUP, Brock Hampton, MGMT, and Bad moves! I have five cats, and they’re all great.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
Sure do! I’ve built things before, too. Check the end of the post for examples!
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
My dear friend tuchiikure and I were looking for servers and came across this one!
Character Name:
Gilligan Robert Kearney
Character Age:
19
Character Race:
Caparri (The Reds)
Appearance:
Gill has reddish tan skin, littered with freckles all over. On his face it only covers his cheeks and nose, but the rest of his body has spotted specks of freckles all about. He’s chubby, his weight primarily being fat rather than muscle. He weighs 184 pounds, and stands at five feet, four inches tall. Gill has two slightly curved horns poking out of his forehead, his bangs hanging between them in a little curly tuft. He shaves often, hence why he doesn’t have any visible hair on his face or his upper body. His lower body however, is as hairy as a goat can get.
He also has two sheep-like ears where human ones would be. He also possesses goat like legs, as he is a satyr. His fur is the same hue as his hair, and just as soft.
Gill has burgundy, curly/wavy locks that ends at his shoulders, some hairs even coming over his ears and to his face. He has round, chestnut brown eyes, tiny but thick triangular eyebrows, and a rounded facial structure. Undeniably, everything from toes to head, was soft.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Written Test!
The subtle, but charming light of the candle flickered and danced in the air, illuminating the small space of inn room. The curtains were slightly torn, the bed made of hay that pricked and stabbed at your spine while you slept, and the roof had a leak that offered little trickles of drips in the middle of the night, leaving you restless to sleep. It was less than ideal, but fine enough for the young Caparri who seemed less focused on the poor and frankly appalling state of the room, and more focused on a project he had brewing in his head.
His eyes were glued to a small book, the leather cover and back worn and used from its excessive use. He was perched forward like a gargoyle, his spine arched to a slouched angle, his cloven hooved feet deep in the hay. An instrument rested in his lap, the neck of which poked out from the ball of the boy as he was hunched forward. The Caparri mumbled to himself, a piece of charcoal wedged between his teeth that must not have tasted good at all.
“F, G fharp..” He muttered, his speech warped some from the writing utensil in his mouth. He pursed his lips, his index and middle finger pinching at the edge of the charcoal and twirling it around to write with on the paper. His other hand holding the neck of the mandolin gingerly, he took note. “Geeee… Geeeeee….” He echoed to himself, muttering over the note in his head, using the same tone as the notes to mimic the sound. “Sharp.” He punctuated, stabbing at the paper with a dainty little period at the end of his sentence. He set the charcoal down, holding the instrument in his hands. “Alright..” He exhaled, adjusting the knobs to tighten the strings at the end of his mandolin. Twisting once, twice.. Maybe a few more times than necessary. He plucked a few times to gage the right notes, and.. Readying himself for a test run.
His charcoal-stained fingers pressed down on the strings on the neck of the guitar-like instrument, his right fingers gradually plucking and feeling at the strings with each pull, like the legs of a dancer who was still too nervous to relax their frame. He was taking his time, listening to the notes as they played at a slower pace than the song normally would, nodding along as he steadily began to pick up pace. Moving between the second, third, fourth strings with more relaxed ease.. His left hand sliding up and down between the frets as he kept going, and going.. Nodding to the beat in his head..
Until an unnatural and cartoonish ‘TWANG-G-G!” snapped out, Gills spine and ears straightening in alarm as he let out a sharp but shocked gasp. The string of the mandolin springing upwards as it curled upward and into itself, due to too much pressure on one of the strings. Gill relaxed, exhaling a defeated breath as his finger pinched at the end of the string, lucky that the string hadn’t snapped at him instead. He set the mandolin aside, with less enthusiasm than before. He pulled the book up to his lap, writing in it:
‘Note to self: don’t tune so tightly. Second note: Buy new string.’
Build example!
Some art, too!
Samwych
2. How old are you?
Recently turned 19 on the 27th of July!
3. What country are you from?
United States!
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yep!
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is using OOC (Out of Character) Information, and using it in character. Example: Learning a characters name/where they come from when they just met.
And Power gaming is forcing your actions upon another player, generally being more powerful/stronger than other players and being unfair.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
You sure as heck do not!
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Jinny! (AKA Seollal)
8. Tell us about yourself!
Hello! My name is Samwych, but please call me Sam for short! I enjoy drawing, writing, and cooking the most. I really love rock music but I’m down for just about anything that isn’t country. My favorite bands are PUP, Brock Hampton, MGMT, and Bad moves! I have five cats, and they’re all great.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
Sure do! I’ve built things before, too. Check the end of the post for examples!
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
My dear friend tuchiikure and I were looking for servers and came across this one!
Character Name:
Gilligan Robert Kearney
Character Age:
19
Character Race:
Caparri (The Reds)
Appearance:
Gill has reddish tan skin, littered with freckles all over. On his face it only covers his cheeks and nose, but the rest of his body has spotted specks of freckles all about. He’s chubby, his weight primarily being fat rather than muscle. He weighs 184 pounds, and stands at five feet, four inches tall. Gill has two slightly curved horns poking out of his forehead, his bangs hanging between them in a little curly tuft. He shaves often, hence why he doesn’t have any visible hair on his face or his upper body. His lower body however, is as hairy as a goat can get.
He also has two sheep-like ears where human ones would be. He also possesses goat like legs, as he is a satyr. His fur is the same hue as his hair, and just as soft.
Gill has burgundy, curly/wavy locks that ends at his shoulders, some hairs even coming over his ears and to his face. He has round, chestnut brown eyes, tiny but thick triangular eyebrows, and a rounded facial structure. Undeniably, everything from toes to head, was soft.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Written Test!
The subtle, but charming light of the candle flickered and danced in the air, illuminating the small space of inn room. The curtains were slightly torn, the bed made of hay that pricked and stabbed at your spine while you slept, and the roof had a leak that offered little trickles of drips in the middle of the night, leaving you restless to sleep. It was less than ideal, but fine enough for the young Caparri who seemed less focused on the poor and frankly appalling state of the room, and more focused on a project he had brewing in his head.
His eyes were glued to a small book, the leather cover and back worn and used from its excessive use. He was perched forward like a gargoyle, his spine arched to a slouched angle, his cloven hooved feet deep in the hay. An instrument rested in his lap, the neck of which poked out from the ball of the boy as he was hunched forward. The Caparri mumbled to himself, a piece of charcoal wedged between his teeth that must not have tasted good at all.
“F, G fharp..” He muttered, his speech warped some from the writing utensil in his mouth. He pursed his lips, his index and middle finger pinching at the edge of the charcoal and twirling it around to write with on the paper. His other hand holding the neck of the mandolin gingerly, he took note. “Geeee… Geeeeee….” He echoed to himself, muttering over the note in his head, using the same tone as the notes to mimic the sound. “Sharp.” He punctuated, stabbing at the paper with a dainty little period at the end of his sentence. He set the charcoal down, holding the instrument in his hands. “Alright..” He exhaled, adjusting the knobs to tighten the strings at the end of his mandolin. Twisting once, twice.. Maybe a few more times than necessary. He plucked a few times to gage the right notes, and.. Readying himself for a test run.
His charcoal-stained fingers pressed down on the strings on the neck of the guitar-like instrument, his right fingers gradually plucking and feeling at the strings with each pull, like the legs of a dancer who was still too nervous to relax their frame. He was taking his time, listening to the notes as they played at a slower pace than the song normally would, nodding along as he steadily began to pick up pace. Moving between the second, third, fourth strings with more relaxed ease.. His left hand sliding up and down between the frets as he kept going, and going.. Nodding to the beat in his head..
Until an unnatural and cartoonish ‘TWANG-G-G!” snapped out, Gills spine and ears straightening in alarm as he let out a sharp but shocked gasp. The string of the mandolin springing upwards as it curled upward and into itself, due to too much pressure on one of the strings. Gill relaxed, exhaling a defeated breath as his finger pinched at the end of the string, lucky that the string hadn’t snapped at him instead. He set the mandolin aside, with less enthusiasm than before. He pulled the book up to his lap, writing in it:
‘Note to self: don’t tune so tightly. Second note: Buy new string.’
Build example!
Some art, too!
Last edited:
