Gameroft
Villager
About You!
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Gameroft
2. How old are you?
I will be turning 19 at the end of March.
3. What country are you from?
The United States.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet?
I have.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Well, based on what I know of both terms, I'd say that metagaming is bringing something or someone from real life into the fictitious world we are playing in. As for powergaming, I'd assume that it would be some form of godmodding, for lack of better word at the moment.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No. And why would you?
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Delwyn GylawCharacter Age:
32
Character Race:
Dwarf
Appearance:
4'10, and 143 pounds. Green eyes. Reddish brown hair. A slightly shorter beard, coming down to the middle of his chest. Fair skinned, though a bit more tan than most. Not really tanned, just a bit more than most dwarves due to constantly being outside for long periods of time. He has a fair mix of girth and muscle. His clothes consist of dull colors, with a brown shirt and gray pants, held up by a brown leather belt. He wears leather boots, as well as a pair of thick leather gloves.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
I am still working on the skin. I apologize.
Written Test!
(This is where you tell us a story of your choosing! Be creative. It should be 400 words minimum and use the character you've created above. This is what we use to judge your ability as a roleplayer. Show us how much you've learned by reading our guides and lore. Include anything you think will impress us!)
“Barkeep! I'll have another!” Delwyn groggily raised his thick arm over his increasingly red face, signaling the tavern's owner to send another drink his way. In all honesty, Delwyn had drank far more than what he required, but he really did not care. He needed a steep drinking session, having done all of his travel for nothing. The raucous crowd around him was certainly not helping matters. Delwyn never did do particularly well with a lot of sustained noise, or crowds, for that matter. On top of that, the dwarf had rarely gotten drunk as well, due to his frequent traveling.
Through the crowded pub, Delwyn was forced to do a double or triple, maybe even an octuple take (Delwyn had lost count, as numbers are difficult for the dwarf when intoxicated). Regardless of how many takes were taken, Delwyn had his beady eyes on one person in the pub. The source of his troubles that had pushed him to get himself drunk this day was there before him. An elf, much taller than he, with light gray hairs coming down to brush their owner's hips. Impressive, given his immense stature, but Delwyn pushed any sort of admiration for that individual aside. Whether that was due to his drunkenness or to his immense rage at this individual, he did not know. And yet, he swore to himself that he would give that elf a piece of his mind.
Delwyn pushed himself up from his seat at the bar, and immediately swayed back and forth. He held out a hand, and steadied himself on his stool. Taking a breath, he puffed out his chest, and strode through the crowd toward this elf. “'Scuse me. Outta the way, with you.” These phrases, among others, were muttered from the drunk dwarf as he shoved and pushed his way through the mass of people to reach his target.
“Hey, you!” Delwyn shouted, grabbing the elf by the elbow, as that was the most comfortable and practical place to grab. Yanking the elf down towards his eye level, which was pretty low with him standing at 4 feet and 10 inches, Delwyn put the poor elf into a headlock. “Who'd'ya think y'are, givin' me false information like 'dat, ya bloody tall one!?” Delwyn shouted into his face, and the elf recoiled from the smell of alcohol on the dwarf's breath. “I'm sorry, my good sir. I am afraid I have no idea of what you are referring to.” The elf started. “Oh, don' give me 'dat, ya long legged freak of nature! We both know ya told me 'dat 'dere was an ancient structure on 'dose desert islands off'a Mockingbay! Well, guess what, buddy? I went 'dere, and 'dere ain't nothin' 'dere!”
His speech getting more and more slurred by the moment, Delwyn jabbed a finger at the elf's chest. “I still am unsure wha-” “OH, SHUT YER TRAP, YOU SLIMY STICK BUG!” The elf had begun to defend himself, and Delwyn quickly cut him off, sure he was lying. Giving his head a shake and taking a long pause to regain his wits, Delwyn continued. “I made my way all the way to Mockingbay from here in Lark's Landing, and stayed on those islands for weeks, searching for that hidden structure you told me of! And I found nothing! You lied to me, elf!”
The elf began again. “Sir, I have never met you before in my life. I certainly have not given you directions, let alone false ones. Why would I have burdened myself with that?” Delwyn tightened his hold on the elf, and continued. “You know full well that I am always searching for more of those ruins! I told you that not three months ago when last I was in Lark's Landing, asking around about any sort of area that an archaeologist would find interesting. You told me full well that there was a set of ruins on one of the islands off of Mockingbay! Well, I went there and found a whole lot of nothing!”
The elf simply stared back up at Delwyn, unsure of what to make of this drunken dwarf. Delwyn let out a large belch, and continued. “You wanna know how far I traveled because of you!?” The dwarf poked the elf's chest again. “I traveled, ON FOOT MIND YOU, from Lark's Landing to Mockingbay, took a small boat out to the islands, and made my way around them, excavating day in and day out for almost a month! I traveled over many perilous cliffs, and nearly died from the pounding rains and hailstorms! The trek was long and arduous, but I finally managed to make it, battered and bruised, to Mockingbay!”
Staring triumphantly into the distance, at nothing in particular, Delwyn grinned, and hiccuped lightly. “That sounds like quite the journey.” The elf stated, dryly. “Except for one detail. You literally have nothing but a few rocky areas, forests, and plains between Lark's Landing and Mockingbay.” “I thought I told you to shut up.” “You did, although I see not why I should listen to the likes of you.” “Just let me tell my story, will you? I've been sitting on this thing for a while and I need to rant, and who better than the person who set me on this quest in the first place!?” Delwyn roared with laughter, most likely due to his current intoxication level. “But I told you, I did not tell you about any such location, nor have I seen you before!”
Delwyn released the elf, and clapped his hands onto the elf's shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “I'm not finished, you piece of Alteran rubbish!” Delwyn paused to clear his throat, and continued. “I made my way to Mockingbay, and spent hours and hours, all day, for three long weeks searching on those sandy isles, for any scrap of a sign of that civilization I was promised. And my search was indeed fruitless. So, I made my way back to Mockingbay, and back across those horrid terrains to Lark's Landing to resume my search for... Something!”
The elf, wriggling his way free from the drunken dwarf's hands, dusted himself off, and looked down at Delwyn. “Well, that's certainly a tale if I've heard one.” Delwyn pointed a fat finger up at the elf. “You're darn right it is, now tell me! Where is a real place!? I know you live here in Lark's Landing, so I can hunt you down if I am so required!”
The elf merely tilted his head, and gave a small, smug grin. “But, sir. There is but one major issue in your story.” “And what would that be!?” “You still are in Mockingbay. You have not made your way back to Lark's Landing yet.”
Delwyn stopped short, and started swaying. “Mayhaps you have had too much to drink, sir?” The elf finished, his cocky grin widening. With a swing of his arm, Delwyn started. “You lyin' little sack of creeper droppings! I swear to Korog himself that I will have your... head... mounted on... my... waaallllll......
With a resounding thump, the alcohol had finally caught up to Delwyn Gylaw, and he had passed out on the floor of the tavern.
1. What is your Minecraft username?
Gameroft
2. How old are you?
I will be turning 19 at the end of March.
3. What country are you from?
The United States.
4. Have you read the King's Law, Tome of Citizenship, Official Lore, and the Survival Guides yet?
I have.
5. In your own words, how would you define metagaming and powergaming?
Well, based on what I know of both terms, I'd say that metagaming is bringing something or someone from real life into the fictitious world we are playing in. As for powergaming, I'd assume that it would be some form of godmodding, for lack of better word at the moment.
6. Do we allow X-Raying mods or X-Ray texture packs on the server?
No. And why would you?
7. Name one of our current Mentors.
Squidziod.
8. Tell us about yourself!
Well, as you know, I'm almost 19 years old. My hobbies include gaming (obviously, I mean, I'm applying to join a Minecraft server), I enjoy reading and music. Listening to it, mainly, but I am interested in composing. I mostly enjoy listening to game soundtracks for music entertainment, but there's also comedic songs and some mild Jpop. I play Paladins, mostly. Although my other games include Undertale, ToonTown Rewritten, Brawlhalla, Left 4 Dead 2, and Vindictus.
9. Do you have any examples of your work?
I'm more of a builder. I do have a few examples, but I won't be showing anything here. If you want, I could send you one of them over the forums!
10. Did anyone refer you? If not, how did you find our server?
I was referred to this server by a friend of mine who is pretty new to the server. Vinsintius is their Minecraft username. The in RP name is Iskvandar.
About Your Character!
Character Name:
Delwyn GylawCharacter Age:
32
Character Race:
Dwarf
Appearance:
4'10, and 143 pounds. Green eyes. Reddish brown hair. A slightly shorter beard, coming down to the middle of his chest. Fair skinned, though a bit more tan than most. Not really tanned, just a bit more than most dwarves due to constantly being outside for long periods of time. He has a fair mix of girth and muscle. His clothes consist of dull colors, with a brown shirt and gray pants, held up by a brown leather belt. He wears leather boots, as well as a pair of thick leather gloves.
(Optional) Picture of the Skin:
I am still working on the skin. I apologize.
Written Test!
(This is where you tell us a story of your choosing! Be creative. It should be 400 words minimum and use the character you've created above. This is what we use to judge your ability as a roleplayer. Show us how much you've learned by reading our guides and lore. Include anything you think will impress us!)
“Barkeep! I'll have another!” Delwyn groggily raised his thick arm over his increasingly red face, signaling the tavern's owner to send another drink his way. In all honesty, Delwyn had drank far more than what he required, but he really did not care. He needed a steep drinking session, having done all of his travel for nothing. The raucous crowd around him was certainly not helping matters. Delwyn never did do particularly well with a lot of sustained noise, or crowds, for that matter. On top of that, the dwarf had rarely gotten drunk as well, due to his frequent traveling.
Through the crowded pub, Delwyn was forced to do a double or triple, maybe even an octuple take (Delwyn had lost count, as numbers are difficult for the dwarf when intoxicated). Regardless of how many takes were taken, Delwyn had his beady eyes on one person in the pub. The source of his troubles that had pushed him to get himself drunk this day was there before him. An elf, much taller than he, with light gray hairs coming down to brush their owner's hips. Impressive, given his immense stature, but Delwyn pushed any sort of admiration for that individual aside. Whether that was due to his drunkenness or to his immense rage at this individual, he did not know. And yet, he swore to himself that he would give that elf a piece of his mind.
Delwyn pushed himself up from his seat at the bar, and immediately swayed back and forth. He held out a hand, and steadied himself on his stool. Taking a breath, he puffed out his chest, and strode through the crowd toward this elf. “'Scuse me. Outta the way, with you.” These phrases, among others, were muttered from the drunk dwarf as he shoved and pushed his way through the mass of people to reach his target.
“Hey, you!” Delwyn shouted, grabbing the elf by the elbow, as that was the most comfortable and practical place to grab. Yanking the elf down towards his eye level, which was pretty low with him standing at 4 feet and 10 inches, Delwyn put the poor elf into a headlock. “Who'd'ya think y'are, givin' me false information like 'dat, ya bloody tall one!?” Delwyn shouted into his face, and the elf recoiled from the smell of alcohol on the dwarf's breath. “I'm sorry, my good sir. I am afraid I have no idea of what you are referring to.” The elf started. “Oh, don' give me 'dat, ya long legged freak of nature! We both know ya told me 'dat 'dere was an ancient structure on 'dose desert islands off'a Mockingbay! Well, guess what, buddy? I went 'dere, and 'dere ain't nothin' 'dere!”
His speech getting more and more slurred by the moment, Delwyn jabbed a finger at the elf's chest. “I still am unsure wha-” “OH, SHUT YER TRAP, YOU SLIMY STICK BUG!” The elf had begun to defend himself, and Delwyn quickly cut him off, sure he was lying. Giving his head a shake and taking a long pause to regain his wits, Delwyn continued. “I made my way all the way to Mockingbay from here in Lark's Landing, and stayed on those islands for weeks, searching for that hidden structure you told me of! And I found nothing! You lied to me, elf!”
The elf began again. “Sir, I have never met you before in my life. I certainly have not given you directions, let alone false ones. Why would I have burdened myself with that?” Delwyn tightened his hold on the elf, and continued. “You know full well that I am always searching for more of those ruins! I told you that not three months ago when last I was in Lark's Landing, asking around about any sort of area that an archaeologist would find interesting. You told me full well that there was a set of ruins on one of the islands off of Mockingbay! Well, I went there and found a whole lot of nothing!”
The elf simply stared back up at Delwyn, unsure of what to make of this drunken dwarf. Delwyn let out a large belch, and continued. “You wanna know how far I traveled because of you!?” The dwarf poked the elf's chest again. “I traveled, ON FOOT MIND YOU, from Lark's Landing to Mockingbay, took a small boat out to the islands, and made my way around them, excavating day in and day out for almost a month! I traveled over many perilous cliffs, and nearly died from the pounding rains and hailstorms! The trek was long and arduous, but I finally managed to make it, battered and bruised, to Mockingbay!”
Staring triumphantly into the distance, at nothing in particular, Delwyn grinned, and hiccuped lightly. “That sounds like quite the journey.” The elf stated, dryly. “Except for one detail. You literally have nothing but a few rocky areas, forests, and plains between Lark's Landing and Mockingbay.” “I thought I told you to shut up.” “You did, although I see not why I should listen to the likes of you.” “Just let me tell my story, will you? I've been sitting on this thing for a while and I need to rant, and who better than the person who set me on this quest in the first place!?” Delwyn roared with laughter, most likely due to his current intoxication level. “But I told you, I did not tell you about any such location, nor have I seen you before!”
Delwyn released the elf, and clapped his hands onto the elf's shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “I'm not finished, you piece of Alteran rubbish!” Delwyn paused to clear his throat, and continued. “I made my way to Mockingbay, and spent hours and hours, all day, for three long weeks searching on those sandy isles, for any scrap of a sign of that civilization I was promised. And my search was indeed fruitless. So, I made my way back to Mockingbay, and back across those horrid terrains to Lark's Landing to resume my search for... Something!”
The elf, wriggling his way free from the drunken dwarf's hands, dusted himself off, and looked down at Delwyn. “Well, that's certainly a tale if I've heard one.” Delwyn pointed a fat finger up at the elf. “You're darn right it is, now tell me! Where is a real place!? I know you live here in Lark's Landing, so I can hunt you down if I am so required!”
The elf merely tilted his head, and gave a small, smug grin. “But, sir. There is but one major issue in your story.” “And what would that be!?” “You still are in Mockingbay. You have not made your way back to Lark's Landing yet.”
Delwyn stopped short, and started swaying. “Mayhaps you have had too much to drink, sir?” The elf finished, his cocky grin widening. With a swing of his arm, Delwyn started. “You lyin' little sack of creeper droppings! I swear to Korog himself that I will have your... head... mounted on... my... waaallllll......
With a resounding thump, the alcohol had finally caught up to Delwyn Gylaw, and he had passed out on the floor of the tavern.
