tuchiikure
I think I might like it here
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Tuchiikure
2. How old are you?
Sixteen.
3. What country are you from?
NYC, EST.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yeah!
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is the use of using knowledge gained out of character and applying it into character when they shouldn't have any sort of knowledge about that particular subject. Powergaming is the use of making your character OP, or generally unrealistic. Forcing some sort of victory no matter the context, or regardless of whether it would be considered realistic either. It disregards everything else just to achieve a specific goal.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
Nope.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Raal ( Raalvara )
8. Tell us about yourself!
Hey my name's Alia and I watch anime. I mainly just do roleplay and draw sometimes but my tablet's broken for a while so I can't actually make anything worthwhile at the moment. I mostly play dumb, oblivious characters because I am unable to play any competent character, but I do enjoy a good part of making them suffer extremely. I'm watching Asobi Asobase, Sirius the Jeager, Satsuriku no Tenshi and Happy Sugar Life this season. I want to get into overlord but I don't want to watch three seasons. I want to become an animator but I don't have to motivation to animate. I enjoy writing, and often over-expand on my characters.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I looked for a server for me and Samwych to play on, but she's the one motivating me to actually apply.
About Your Character!
This section is about the character you intend to use once you join the server.We ask that new players follow these guidelines during this portion of the application:
Character Name:
Alistair Bess'aisellaoncië'io'jaoell'one Caheles ( Formerly Auylie'essen. )
Character Age:
Twenty.
Character Race:
Forest Elf, though due to his mother's.. Circumstances, had lived in a human city for much his life.
Appearance:
Even though Alistair is physically unable to recognize his face on his own, if placed in front of a mirror - his angled, straightened jaw on his rectangular facial shape. His eyes the shape of almonds - only slightly larger than the norm. His nose, like his jaw, is an angled shape akin to a right triangle, with a slight lift at the end. Alistair would have to close in on the mirror to find much highlight on his not-so-defined, high cheekbones. His ears, like any Elf, is pointy and long as could be. The nelfin has a thick stubble around his chin, ending in a goatee, of which two ‘snake bite’ piercings have been pinned on. He adorns this with a eyebrow piercing as well, along with many more on the ears. Alistair has a sliced left nostril, that's all stitched up. Alistair stands at 5'10, unable to get taller, much to his dismay. With a startling toned body build-- a lean body aids him as he performs tasks. His arms seem to have more practice then his legs due to the surge of weight-lifting from physical training, but not to say that his lower limbs are not far behind on scaling. Though, his shins currently wear stitches down from the knee due to a double stab wound - making escape on foot a little bit more harder. His tan is obviously the most significant thing, obviously healthy in melanin from his supple brown tone. Alistair has more hair on his arms and legs then anywhere else in the body, which isn’t much to say, in fact. Alistair retains piercings upon his navel, a few moles on the near nape of his neck, and on his left inner thigh.
He adorns colorful hues on his clothing - from blue to red, and the purple in between. Though his trousers tend to consist of darker colors - or at least a very different hue than his shirts for the sake of contrast. He more then often wears some sort of sash around his waist to finish the look, though while he more than often bared his upper chest in a low-cut.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Written Test!
Summer leaves fell onto the stone-paved ground. Modelled in a time that he couldn’t recall, the sidewalk remains unchanged, puddles splashed upon by tiny feet, trailing after a young boy no older than ten. Scratches, bruises liter his skin as droplets of water gloss over his skin to give it a shining texture-- cold rain beating down on the nearly collapsing child. Umbrellas of nameless, faceless folk drifted by him like the water that quietly slipped by through the cracks on the ground. Avoiding him like an unnatural stream of liquid down the hill. Tangled long hair disembodied as the cold air compels him to move-- even just crawl forward. Just a bit, just a bit closer. Though, closer to what? Home? What home was his? The empty streets didn’t count--, but neither did the misleadingly warm bed he remembers the blankets cuddling him every night. The mysterious, blurred faces that welcomed him with the term known as family--. It wasn’t true, wasn’t it. Itwasn’t supposed to be-- the failure of a child, the failed helper of his mother; the one without a home kept on his trek to keep away from the despair that had seemed to follow him away from that closed, two-story home that always felt so vacant.
Tall buildings towered over his lonesome body, too weak to move any further. Like a weight that pulled him down constantly. Maybe he truly was just a selfish creature, unable to think of anything else but himself and his own withering skin. His sister-- what of her? Had he abandoned her to the devils? It’d be eighty more years before he could show his face back towards that household, that he hoped wouldn’t want to see him either, unwilling to face the likely mistake he had taken. A mistake that he had grown aware of by the beating rain upon his clothes. The cold washed over him, as thunder reclines in the far distance, startling few awake. Though, his eyes remain closed-- he was lost, blinded. He had no idea where the paths are to take, yet the sidewalk was still there before him. Enveloped in this cold, empty husk that embraced rain, although it’d extinguish his own light.
The tenements besides him tower over him, mocking with ridicule-- the boy without a roof over his head had sent himself to suffer just a bit more, he took gratifying pity on himself, as panic ensues. What was a life like without a home to return to? Was the guilt from his mother too much for him? The feminine child’s skin eventually became numbed-- although the rain was warm, it felt as if it would pelt through his bones and flesh, or had it already done so? He couldn’t quite feel the nimble fingers his mother had bragged about to the few others at her abode the day before-- yet another memory, no. Yet another accomplishment lost. The clouds above seemed to slowly lower him, blinding him only further to his graying surroundings-- surreal in nature, becoming monotone, like a dust spreading through her sclera. It felt as if he would choke, has the air began to suffocate him? Escaping from his throat, his lungs, in an instant, as his head felt as if it would float off at any second, dizzy and fatigued. He had eaten all his food, shouldn’t that had been enough? … What did he eat today? Miso soup, tomato juice.. What else? He was so sure that there was something else in that pile..
His thoughts bean to drift away from him, the water pouring down the stream having washed them away as well, slipping through the cracks, and through his mind as well. Eventually, unable to do anything more than curl up and sob on what was an empty street, filled with empty people, with an empty face. He was frozen in what was an imaginary fight-or-flight instinct, unable to sense the immediate danger face-on, but still fearing for his life. Up above was what was a flooding sea, that he expected to drown it. Rolling down this sobbing hill, along with the guilt given to him by his mother. Rolling down; flooding the area, washing him away with his thoughts as he was pierced with frozen agony. As his heart dropped, his ribcage feeling as if it were spreading open to free his lungs at any time-- his mind went blank as he wailed.
… As he reopened his bloodshot eyes, he noticed a pair of loafers before him, and above that-- a person, with a strange collar, accompanied with a coat. An umbrella was casted over him, saving him from the penetrating rains.
Tuchiikure
2. How old are you?
Sixteen.
3. What country are you from?
NYC, EST.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Code of Conducts, Official Lore, and the Player Guides yet?
Yeah!
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Metagaming is the use of using knowledge gained out of character and applying it into character when they shouldn't have any sort of knowledge about that particular subject. Powergaming is the use of making your character OP, or generally unrealistic. Forcing some sort of victory no matter the context, or regardless of whether it would be considered realistic either. It disregards everything else just to achieve a specific goal.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
Nope.
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Raal ( Raalvara )
8. Tell us about yourself!
Hey my name's Alia and I watch anime. I mainly just do roleplay and draw sometimes but my tablet's broken for a while so I can't actually make anything worthwhile at the moment. I mostly play dumb, oblivious characters because I am unable to play any competent character, but I do enjoy a good part of making them suffer extremely. I'm watching Asobi Asobase, Sirius the Jeager, Satsuriku no Tenshi and Happy Sugar Life this season. I want to get into overlord but I don't want to watch three seasons. I want to become an animator but I don't have to motivation to animate. I enjoy writing, and often over-expand on my characters.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I looked for a server for me and Samwych to play on, but she's the one motivating me to actually apply.
About Your Character!
This section is about the character you intend to use once you join the server.We ask that new players follow these guidelines during this portion of the application:
Character Name:
Alistair Bess'aisellaoncië'io'jaoell'one Caheles ( Formerly Auylie'essen. )
‘Saxon’, ‘Laetificus’ and ‘Mason’ are commonly used as fake names, should it come in handy.
Character Age:
Twenty.
Character Race:
Forest Elf, though due to his mother's.. Circumstances, had lived in a human city for much his life.
Appearance:
Even though Alistair is physically unable to recognize his face on his own, if placed in front of a mirror - his angled, straightened jaw on his rectangular facial shape. His eyes the shape of almonds - only slightly larger than the norm. His nose, like his jaw, is an angled shape akin to a right triangle, with a slight lift at the end. Alistair would have to close in on the mirror to find much highlight on his not-so-defined, high cheekbones. His ears, like any Elf, is pointy and long as could be. The nelfin has a thick stubble around his chin, ending in a goatee, of which two ‘snake bite’ piercings have been pinned on. He adorns this with a eyebrow piercing as well, along with many more on the ears. Alistair has a sliced left nostril, that's all stitched up. Alistair stands at 5'10, unable to get taller, much to his dismay. With a startling toned body build-- a lean body aids him as he performs tasks. His arms seem to have more practice then his legs due to the surge of weight-lifting from physical training, but not to say that his lower limbs are not far behind on scaling. Though, his shins currently wear stitches down from the knee due to a double stab wound - making escape on foot a little bit more harder. His tan is obviously the most significant thing, obviously healthy in melanin from his supple brown tone. Alistair has more hair on his arms and legs then anywhere else in the body, which isn’t much to say, in fact. Alistair retains piercings upon his navel, a few moles on the near nape of his neck, and on his left inner thigh.
He adorns colorful hues on his clothing - from blue to red, and the purple in between. Though his trousers tend to consist of darker colors - or at least a very different hue than his shirts for the sake of contrast. He more then often wears some sort of sash around his waist to finish the look, though while he more than often bared his upper chest in a low-cut.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
Written Test!
Summer leaves fell onto the stone-paved ground. Modelled in a time that he couldn’t recall, the sidewalk remains unchanged, puddles splashed upon by tiny feet, trailing after a young boy no older than ten. Scratches, bruises liter his skin as droplets of water gloss over his skin to give it a shining texture-- cold rain beating down on the nearly collapsing child. Umbrellas of nameless, faceless folk drifted by him like the water that quietly slipped by through the cracks on the ground. Avoiding him like an unnatural stream of liquid down the hill. Tangled long hair disembodied as the cold air compels him to move-- even just crawl forward. Just a bit, just a bit closer. Though, closer to what? Home? What home was his? The empty streets didn’t count--, but neither did the misleadingly warm bed he remembers the blankets cuddling him every night. The mysterious, blurred faces that welcomed him with the term known as family--. It wasn’t true, wasn’t it. Itwasn’t supposed to be-- the failure of a child, the failed helper of his mother; the one without a home kept on his trek to keep away from the despair that had seemed to follow him away from that closed, two-story home that always felt so vacant.
Tall buildings towered over his lonesome body, too weak to move any further. Like a weight that pulled him down constantly. Maybe he truly was just a selfish creature, unable to think of anything else but himself and his own withering skin. His sister-- what of her? Had he abandoned her to the devils? It’d be eighty more years before he could show his face back towards that household, that he hoped wouldn’t want to see him either, unwilling to face the likely mistake he had taken. A mistake that he had grown aware of by the beating rain upon his clothes. The cold washed over him, as thunder reclines in the far distance, startling few awake. Though, his eyes remain closed-- he was lost, blinded. He had no idea where the paths are to take, yet the sidewalk was still there before him. Enveloped in this cold, empty husk that embraced rain, although it’d extinguish his own light.
The tenements besides him tower over him, mocking with ridicule-- the boy without a roof over his head had sent himself to suffer just a bit more, he took gratifying pity on himself, as panic ensues. What was a life like without a home to return to? Was the guilt from his mother too much for him? The feminine child’s skin eventually became numbed-- although the rain was warm, it felt as if it would pelt through his bones and flesh, or had it already done so? He couldn’t quite feel the nimble fingers his mother had bragged about to the few others at her abode the day before-- yet another memory, no. Yet another accomplishment lost. The clouds above seemed to slowly lower him, blinding him only further to his graying surroundings-- surreal in nature, becoming monotone, like a dust spreading through her sclera. It felt as if he would choke, has the air began to suffocate him? Escaping from his throat, his lungs, in an instant, as his head felt as if it would float off at any second, dizzy and fatigued. He had eaten all his food, shouldn’t that had been enough? … What did he eat today? Miso soup, tomato juice.. What else? He was so sure that there was something else in that pile..
His thoughts bean to drift away from him, the water pouring down the stream having washed them away as well, slipping through the cracks, and through his mind as well. Eventually, unable to do anything more than curl up and sob on what was an empty street, filled with empty people, with an empty face. He was frozen in what was an imaginary fight-or-flight instinct, unable to sense the immediate danger face-on, but still fearing for his life. Up above was what was a flooding sea, that he expected to drown it. Rolling down this sobbing hill, along with the guilt given to him by his mother. Rolling down; flooding the area, washing him away with his thoughts as he was pierced with frozen agony. As his heart dropped, his ribcage feeling as if it were spreading open to free his lungs at any time-- his mind went blank as he wailed.
… As he reopened his bloodshot eyes, he noticed a pair of loafers before him, and above that-- a person, with a strange collar, accompanied with a coat. An umbrella was casted over him, saving him from the penetrating rains.
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