.jpeg.a40dedc22646b86e50cf2740336b285a.jpeg)
.gif.0366522f8577d868ea29a4705b66b59c.gif)
RaindropsKeepFalling
-
Posts
101 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Profiles
Personas
Wiki
Rules
War
Systems
Safety
Player Conduct
Forums
Forms
Posts posted by RaindropsKeepFalling
-
-
im memeing
GINO FALCONE:
Spoiler1 -
poggers
0 -
For the yearly anniversary will you finally shed your ears and reveal your Adunian identity?
3 -
«PROVIDENCE POST»
Published 9th of Sigismund's End, 1799
Halcourt Publishing Co.
«SEEKING PATRONS»
The Providence Post is seeking patrons and adverts. If you would like your message, or a campaign, a business, anything, in the spotlight for all to see, reach out to us.
We have restructured our sponsor tiers so as to allow our clients more options. As the newspaper with the largest reach in all of the Empire, we offer immense value to our clients. Our advertisement syndication service flawlessly embeds topical inserts right into our content, ensuring that the correct audience receives your message.
Purchase an advertisement today. There are so many ways that ads can help you. For your convenience, we have compiled a list of common reasons for purchasing an advertisement in the Herald.
- BUSINESS PROMOTION – Drive sales to your in-person business. We have a track record of helping generate revenue.
- PERSONAL INQUIRY – Looking for a date? Wanting to propose in a fancy fashion? Put it in an ad so the world can see!
- PERSONNEL RECRUITMENT – Need more soldiers, barkeeps, or anything? We can help connect you with new employees.
- POLITICAL OUTREACH – Do you have a message that you want the world to see? We can get it out to all the world’s voters.
- AND MORE – Your imagination is the limit. Give us your money, and the whole of the Empire will read whatever you want.
So without further ado, here is the new sponsorship structure!
-
PRINCE TIER – 150 MINA | ONE SLOT LEFT
An article-length insert on the front-page of the latest edition, with a custom printed image of your desire.
Spoiler
-
DUKE TIER – 100 MINA | TWO SLOTS LEFT
A 50- to 100-word text insert in either the first or last article, meaning that, by our estimates, 95% of our readers will see it.
Spoiler
-
EARL TIER – 75 MINA | THREE SLOTS LEFT
A 30- to 50-word insert in one of our top performing articles. Top performing articles usually are the first in their section and garner serious engagement.
Spoiler
-
COUNT TIER – 50 MINA | FOUR SLOTS LEFT
A 10- to 30- word insert at the end of a topical article, hand-curated by our editor-in-chief. These garner a decent amount of engagement.
Spoiler
-
BARON TIER – 30 mina | FIVE SLOTS LEFT
A 5- to 10-word insert selected in whatever slot remains. These get moderate engagement.
Spoiler
If you are interested in buying an ad, or simply supporting the Post (with perks such as: seeing the drafting process, reading it early and occasionally honorary editing!) please reach out to Editor & Chief Gino Falcone or fill out the form below.
« INQUIRY FORM »
Please scribe all forms in the following format:
QuoteNAME >
DISCORD >
USERNAME >
TIER >
MISCELLANY >Below is an example of a properly filled out form:
QuoteNAME > John Smith
DISCORD > smithjohn#1234
USERNAME > john__smith_
TIER > Baron
MISCELLANY >((Reply to the forum post with this format, or simply join the Discord and pop in a message: we'll talk more in depth on rates, et cetera.))
5 -
RP Name: Gino Falcone
MC Name: RainedropF
Voted: Yes0 -
((Missed deadline! Please delete!))
SURNAME:FIRST NAME:
ADDRESS OF RESIDENCE:
YEAR OF BIRTH:
Are you registered and eligible to vote in Providence District? Yes
Do you have any other title, peerage or military service that may conflict with becoming a Member of the House of Commons, as per the Edict of Reform (1763)?
If yes, do you understand that you will be required to resign or abdicate from this position should you be elected to the House of Commons, and if this does not occur your seat shall be considered to be vacant?:
((MC NAME)):
0 -
Spoiler
It had been a week.The afternoons were darker, quieter. Each night Gino went to bed alone, and woke up in the morning, only having himself for accompaniment. The mortician had come around. She was gone without a trace, but her words echoed endlessly:
I love you.
Their fights, their screams: they couldn't be ignored. Each night, however, when he faced her in those darkened days and nights, he saw her. She was his and he was hers and they were each other's. A thousand thoughts raced each evening. He fell down the twisting, swivelling stories of his own cracked mind. When he went into a slumber he saw her eyes as he had when she lived. When she ran, lively, never a bore: however chaotic. It was his own fantastical hallucination.
His children silently loathed him. It was a justified reply amidst his tyranny. His screams photographed her; it was a sad memory that hung true. He did not scream, but silently stood with a frigidly cold look, never blinking to dare see the vision, the deafening memories. Even so, his psyche rushed, chasing it's own tail in a loop. Lorenzo was right. It was his fault.
The Falcone roamed down the streets. It was late. He'd left without a word to a soul. He walked, wishing to fall and sleep, into hibernation like a temporary death. Forty summers lived, and he was freezing, clueless as a child. Somewhere he knew, but dared not speak it out loud; it made it de jure.
In a sudden urge of emotional adrenaline he raced to the house with the wind brushing up against his eyes and hair. He was too blind to stop. He made it to the house, stopping in his tracks, wheezing and out of breath. The wood creaked. The crickets squeaked. As he'd stepped in he'd forgotten all like waking from a dream. Life was but a dream in those days. Though, he knew not where the boat was leading him.
He traced his palm down the plastered walls, only a single reminiscing thought in his head: a single memory.
I love you too.
All the confused contradictions were silenced, and for one moment, it would be okay. It was all forgotten now.
The sun rose up, and it had been a week and a day.
4 -
Gino Falcone scanned over the flyer, a small smile rising up to his face. He tapped at his crowded desk a few times with his first digit, thinking. He stood up, ready to finalize plans, staff and the casino for the coming event. He recalled recently when he had arrived to Oren, back in the days of Helena: of Arcas. The convention he'd arrived to, his little loyalty that'd since grown. A Josephite he was, and the convention he'd help.
3 -
- Popular Post
- Popular Post
«PROVIDENCE POST»
Published 20th of Harren's Folley, 1797
Halcourt Publishing Co.
POLITICS
Section Editor, Theon Virosi
« HEIRESS' BURGLED OF HER WEALTH FINDS A MYSTERIOUS NOTE! »
Written by Frederick Oswald HelvetsA few moons ago, a young noblewoman by the name of Aimee de Frand finds herself in a moment of terror. Her home was recently burgled by a ruthless thief, her most valuable items stolen! Jewels, paintings, perfumes.. And worst of all, the fine heiress lost around two thousand minae! What insane wrong doer would have the nerve to do such monstrosities. Further, messily & quickly written on the wall was a profane message, and I quote, “The rich will suffer, & the poor will starve.”.
Yesterday I was able to catch Aimee in the pub after eating some Biscuits, she spoke in a Auvergian Accent & had a youthful face, however much more the pity I felt for her. I then interviewed her for an hour or so, here's what she had to say:
(some dialogue may be edited for easier comprehension)
Frederick : “So I have heard that your abode was recently burgled?”
Aimee : “Oui, my mansion, all my jewels were burgled!”
Frederick : “After the burglary, was there anything strange left behind?”
Aimee : “Silver coins scattered across the floors coming from the first chest taken. Apart from that, there was a note left outside my house, reading; ‘The rich will suffer, and the poor will starve.’ The poor burglars must have been incoherently thought of if they believe that sentiment makes much sense.”
Frederick : “Terrible, Terrible, my apologies. How did you feel when you witnessed this?”
Aimee : “I did not witness the burglary. But I was utterly petrified. My heart stopped, my family heirlooms stolen.” She’d add in a whisper, “They were valued at nearly two thousand minae.”
Frederick : “Good heavens! Now, for my final question-who might you suspect to be the perpetrator of this event?”
A bearded man, by the name of Patrick, or ‘Ricky’, seeming to be an acquaintance of Aimee, entered the pub, the young noblewoman would shift her gaze towards him in question.
Aimee : “Who might you say it was, if you had to guess?” She’d say to Ricky, I too would face the bearded fellow with my pencil in hand.
Ricky : “If I had to take a guess, I would say that Gradic fellow trying to put me up for it for some damn reason. I actually hadn’t been able to tell you, be able to tell you but I just had to speak with a Commissioner about the whole thing.”
I questioned Patrick as to who this Gradic was, he responded with “Giandoro”.
Ricky : “I was visiting Aimee in her home, having a glass of wine and the man tried to intimate me and later I found out he went to the ministry of justice to accuse me of the whole thing.”
Aimee : “I don't want to give a name. I have no compulsive idea of who it might be.”
I then finished my notes for the interview, after such I said goodbye & walked off. Seeing this, the whole ordeal is an utter mystery & will stay that way until our Imperial Justice system will investigate further; a true tragedy until then.
« A Third Botched Election »
Written by Nicholis Killigrew, Unionist Opinion.
The first, we were told, was an anomaly amongst many faultlessly smooth successes. The second, an underestimation. The third was simply a fluke, a total outlier. The chances for all three of these statements being wholly true? Not a lot.
Orenian elections are plagued with a hyper-partisan tension. We, as citizens, know this to be true. Yet these past ballots have been overhung with a feeling of desperation. Decades of one-party rule beginning to crumble at the very foundations. The rumble of our nation can be heard from within our sheltered homes just as much as it can from the streets of Providence.
Something brought us to this watershed moment. The Treasury has progressively presided over cuts to government departments for decades now. Despite having one of the most important tasks in government, the Civil Service is woefully strapped of cash and manpower.
We find ourselves sleepwalking into complacency, where the machine of government is simply unable to cope with the very citizens it promises so much to. Dignity for all: that is the mantra. Yet opportunity seems few and far beyond. A cavalier approach towards rulership has provoked an uncivil reaction in our population, and a growing resentment towards The Party: justified or not. This is especially apparent when the most recent election: Mayoral, is a tie decided by a coin flip, three to zero.
One would hope that this government will eventually wake up and see that government institutions and civil society at large need desperate investment and investigation, or we will stifle talent and cause a crisis decades in the making.
LIFE
Section Editor, Simon Pruvia-Provins
« MUSINGS ON MISE-EN-SCÈNE »
This Season in Fashion
Written by Darius Dy'Squith
Whilst on a midday tryst across the park or through the gleaming conservatory, one cannot help but notice the romantic young things of the Capital promenading with Leg o’ Mutton sleeves; ballooned and puffed with a peculiar bouffant that is truly remarkable. Paired with a lacy Pelerine or a curious bertha cape and shaped parasol, this look truly conveys a sense of elegance in repose. But this latest and most flamboyant Helena trend, this craze of the “Gigot sleeves” is not strictly reserved for Eve alone. Here are a few most excellent tips for capitalizing on this mode for both madams and monsieurs alike.
- For the Lady à la Mode: For the picturesque young lady of Helena, the dramatically cut Gigot is a must-have on any frothy, day-dress confection. However, the sheer enormity of these immense sleeves can leave one looking quite top heavy and- quite frankly- rather mannish. To combat this, one must add a great deal of extra fullness to the skirt. With the aid of a structured hoop and a few quilted petticoats, this flounced silhouette can be achieved with no trouble at all. There’s certainly no slouch in a gown like that. To make the coyness no doubt irresistible to passing gentlefolk, simply add a scuttle bonnet and a pair of silk stockings for that extra flourish of verdure.
- For the Mannerable Gentlemen: When it comes to styling the romantic Leg o’ Mutton sleeve on menswear, one must first look back at the opulent ensembles worn by the fops of decades past. A richly brocaded waistcoat, paired with a cinched greatcoat in crushed velvet, will maximize the dramatics of the puffed sleeve. A pair of stays, or gored corset, laced agreeably will do wonders in minimizing the waist and mimicking the current fashionable silhouette. When worn with a stately top hat, reminiscent of Helena’s many smokestacks, and a frilly jabot, this look conveys a sense of sophistication, refinement, and above all, distinction.
This past season we’ve seen quite the evolution of silhouette and shape in the world of fashion here in the Capital. Young ladies have once again become creatures of curves as wide skirts return to fashion and ginormous Gigots sprout from formerly tight sleeves. Parallel to this, dandyism and feminal men’s styles have reached their highest peaks in popularity since the early 18th century. As Designer Francesca Monte-Cristo of Fair Frippery notes, “the significance is clear, really: the bigger your sleeves, the bigger your wallet”. Stay stylish!
“Mimic the trending styles with this season’s fashion-plate.”
« A Day of Festivities »
Written by Wallace d'Emyth
Welcome, all to a day of Teas, Treats and a plethora of activities! A day for all families of Oren to attend! The young, upcoming hostess, Vespira Angelica d’Emyth, had accepted an interview on behalf of the party. The fourteen-year-old Lady’s first formal hosting event took place at Trissingham Court Gardens.“Garden clothes, anything more formal will be frowned upon, by me.” Stated Vespira when asked what the guest should wear.
During my interview with the young lady, we discussed the events that would occur during the day. “Charades, croquette and whatnot,” Vespira had alluded to. “[Along with the games] I plan on serving my personal favorites: Cherry pastries and jasmine tea. Among other things of course, but those are the headliners.” Vespira had much to say about all things related to her event, but our time had drawn short and I had proposed one final question. “Do you plan on holding more events like this? What could one expect from you in the future to come?” I had asked, in which she responded, “I plan on holding lots of events in the palace in my lifetime, including my debutante.”. The lovely Lady Vespira will be inviting all on that day - be wary though! The charade competition winners reward is a cake, and just because she's a kid doesn’t mean she will be going easy!
« A New Dawn of Culture »
Written by Calan Stahl-Elendil
As citizens of the Empire settle into our new home in Providence, we have much to be thankful for. Large and exquisite housing, stately and refined architecture, and a bustling city are at our fingertips. The La Fleur Theatre is only one such reminder of the grandness of Providence and the Empire. The performing arts have come a long way from being hosted at a small outside stage theatre in the palace gardens.
We have many saints and sinners to thank for Oren’s flourishing theatre scene. Bianca La Fleur, the playwright whose name adorns the new theatre, continues to pump out works that dazzle audiences. She recently released a new play called The Franciscan Massacre. It has quite the eye catching title. This play is the second and third in her Rosebud Trilogy, and I hope to read it and formulate my opinions on it forthwith. But the celebrities aren’t the only ones worth mentioning.
There are a flurry of new writers, actors, directors, and even stagehands who deserve great applause. I have even put my hat in the ring once or twice. I’m particularly looking forward to the work of The Ruby Empire Theatrical Society [RETS]. Their upcoming ballet production The White Knight will be akin to an opening ceremony of our elegant new theatre. The performance will feature the young protagonist Nora wrestling her beloved doll away from the evil clutches of the Dark Knight. It will be a Tuvmas performance for the entire family. I expect all readers with their fingers on the pulse of culture to be there. If anyone working in RETS could contact me, I greatly wish to interview those in charge of The White Knight’s Production.
New talent will take center stage and breath new life into theatre, I’m sure of it.
I also hope that the fine readers of this paper welcome me to The Providence Post™. Please see me and submit any ideas for future articles or other comments on the paper as you see fit. Theatre’s stage is set with many skilled actors ready to make their move, but whose star will shine the brightest? I look forward to finding out with all of you.
ACADEMIC
Section Editor Edward Galbraith
« Coltsfoot: A Household Must »
Written by Doctor Desmond Morgryn
What is Coltsfoot?
Coltsfoot is a bright, yellow plant similar to dandelions except for its properties. When the petals are crushed and mixed with tea, Coltsfoot can help cure the common cold and save you from a trip to the doctors office. Now you may wonder: “where can I get this wonderful plant?” Luckily coltsfoot is among the more common herbs. You can find it along almost any roadside and it enjoys every climate that isn’t arid or arctic.Just be careful when harvesting coltsfoot as the flower and leaves are essential to creating this simply herbal tea. Alternatively the Providence Hospital will be selling coltsfoot tea as soon as the flowers are in stock. So what are you waiting for, winter? Stock up on your coltsfoot now and save a nasty trip to the clinic!
« Life Advice #1»
Written by Santiago Paolo Delacruz
There may be countless days that will feel as if they have only brought you trouble. This is all too common during these turbulent and uncertain times and that is when it becomes /the/ most important to seek the beautiful in the commotion; be it a fragrant bushel of basil you smell as you take a walk through the Commons, or a a contagious laughter that echoed to you from somewhere afar. There are always reasons to continue through the hardships because those hardships bringing a deeper appreciation for the things that are easy and beautiful. How we have seen the world literally crumble beneath our feets-- and still manage to return ourselves to some semblance of what we knew. Where we would have been had we decided Arcas was all we had, and that to start over again would be a fruitless effort.
We are certainly not alone within the company and community of each other. We can be divisive and opinionated, but ultimately we all assemble in this place-- together. The world many of us knew has ended, but now we've the chance to build a new one for the children. We've the chance to leave a lot of our past troubles just there, in the past. A new world is a new opportunity. There will be very much to struggle for, but we are a capable people. We could not have made it to Providence if we were not.
« HERETIC DECLARED ANATHEMA »
Written by Alfred Ruthern
After years of heresy and corruption of souls, justice finally is served! The man falsely claiming to be a prophet, also known as "Melchizedek", is formally anathematized by the Church of the Canon and the Auditor of the Tribunal! The Archbishop of Haense, Cardinal of Jorenus and Auditor of the Tribunal, Alfred Ruthern announced in his letter to the public and the heretic that he is banished from the church and severed from a connection to GOD until further notice.
His choice is simple: Repent for his sins or continue his heathen and false ways. What will he choose? More to follow...
WORLD
Section Editor, Evan Beckett
« Trouble Below the Red Rocks of Krugmar »
Written by Azariah O'Rourke
Only a year into the descendants landing on Almaris & much of the continent has already been explored. To the west between Norland & Krugmar lies a vast red mountain range, complete with several volcanoes. To travellers, I advise to be weary. Lava rests throughout the range & Clan Raguk of Krugmar made their home inside one of the red rocks. Down to our south, near the coast of the mainland sits a city in ruins. Many of the houses feature torn off roofs.
No sign of life has been spotted there yet but the city poses a deathtrap to anyone who enters. At the back of the city a once grand palace towers into the skyline, overlooking the surrounding area. The palace has yet to be explored & for that reason, it is advised to stay away until experts scale the structure.
[!] An illustration of the mountain ranges West of Krugmar
Thank you for reading.
Join our staff today!
((Our Discord!))
32 -
HIRING WRITERS
Published 17th of Godfrey's Triumph, 1796
Halcourt Publishing Co.
[Join Our Discord!]
« PROVIDENCE POST, NOW HIRING »
With the Inferi Incursion and later the evacuation from the continent of Arcas into Almaris the Helena Herald (now known as the Providence Post) lost many of it's staff: editions also unable to be published, thus. For over 20 years the Helena Herald has served the public with their journalism, publishing the first edition by Halcourt and Co in 1769. To see irrelevance spreading through the establishment is an affair that must be acknowledged. This issue of the staffing and such holds the Post's attention: in consequence the it will now be hiring writers and editors. Note that Editors [There may be multiple] are left in charge of a section.
The current Post is split into Politics, World, Life and Academic. All staff writers are part of a section and assigned a portfolio of topics they may discuss with the Editor-In-Chief. Editors may also optionally write and edit their own articles. All positions in all sections are being hired.
If you, or or anyone you may be acquainted with holds interest please do not hesitate to contact Editor-In-Chief Gino Falcone and apply.
« APPLICATION FORM »
Please scribe all applications in the following format:
QuoteNAME >
DISCORD >
USERNAME >
POSITION AND SECTION >
MISCELLANY >
Below is an example of a properly filled out form:QuoteNAME > John Smith
DISCORD > smithjohn#1234
USERNAME > john__smith_
POSITION AND SECTION > I would like to apply as an Editor of the World Section.
MISCELLANY > ((Cool newspaper, seems like a nice community))
((Reply to the forum post with this format, or simply join the Discord and pop in a message: we'll talk.))
7 -
Gino Falcone leant in a familiar chair, hunched into the missive: glancing over it's contents. A small smirk rose to his visage as the endorsed candidates were listed. A familiar thought that seemed to predict the coming members in an impression akin to deja vu.
"Praise Josephites." He simply remarked, lighting up a cigarette.He stood up, waiting till the new Saint's Days where Joseph Marna's ideals would be once more perpetuated in the majority party: Josephites. The party he'd been loyal to for some fifteen years sweeping once again. Another day, another sun, another Imperial Diet:
"For The Dignity of All."3 -
Candidacies for the House of Commons in the Twenty-first Diet.
SURNAME: Falcone
FIRST NAME: Gino
ADDRESS OF RESIDENCE: d'Arkent 4
DATE OF BIRTH: 1757
Are you registered and eligible to vote in the Holy Orenian Empire?
Yes.
Do you have any other title, peerage or military service that may conflict with becoming a Member of the House of Commons, as per the Edict of Reform (1763)?
No.
If yes, do you understand that you will be required to resign or abdicate from this position should you be elected to the House of Commons, and if this does not occur your seat shall be considered to be vacant?:
Yes.
((MC NAME)): RainedropF
2 -
[!] A debut poem by Cajsa Serene Baelius on the fair of the last saint's day.
Cajsa Serene’s “Festival!”
Oh fair, you are so fair.
Oh fair, you sit out there.
Playing words - hearing out, wondering when.
The sun goes up, the sun goes down. I wander around.
Oh fair, when will you end?
Oh fair, Angel sent.
In the grass, we look out.
The dark dark skies. Her cloudy blue eyes. Lit up by “rockets” shot up in the air.
Oh fair, I ran away.
Oh fair, You color my eyes and stain my head.
It is once more, day.
I am tired, I will go to bed.
Until another festival lies.
-with my Makuahine
Faring well on that future.
Hoping
9 -
Light sprung through the wide windows of the three storied home on the wide street in Helena. The brick colors on the inside especially saturated it seemed with a new brighter day; a juxtaposition from the dark evenings throughout the Incursion months.
A young Cajsa Baelius glided down the interior stairs, hearing of the news with a wide, enthusiastic grin: a usual pep to her step. She recalled hearing her youthful pals telling secondhand stories their parents had told them. Aenguls and Daemons, tears in the ground. The drama mattered not to the young girl. She tugged at her mother's sleeve in the living space:
"Makuahine, I like playing. Could we go- Could we listen to Al-ren's speech? Will Victoria be there?!"
She'd simply have to be patient, till the day did come.
---
@MotherLay2 -
Spoiler
based
5 -
It’s complicated.
I want to first disclose that I do not condone real life and OOC homophobia, racism, bigotry, etc. However, I firmly believe it is an entirely different animal when it comes to roleplay. Malaise put it very well. You are not your character; you simply portray your character. I’m going to go off on a little tangent here, but it’ll make sense in the scheme of things:A long time ago, I played a bipolar jerk. He was unpredictable, and a wild card. One day, he does something really bad and has an affair. I strongly recall the player coming up to me and saying something along the lines of
”wth dude. whyyyd you do that? thats misogynist.”It sounds a little silly when it’s put that way. The point wasn’t to be a terrible person, or have a flat character for the sake of extending my inner bipolarity to the LotC world. It was fictional, and he was odd. That was part of what came with playing him, or another interacting with him. The point was, I was not him, and you are not your character. To claim that portraying any of these faulty issues makes you a believer of them is deeply flawed. You could say to write a fictional story of inequality makes you the person you are portraying. You could say Orwell’s 1984 taught us to be fascist. No, and no. I frankly think to blatantly turn our head up and close our eyes, ignoring these things is worse. It erases the fact that they exist. It plays pretend that a “perfect world” exists, when that is far from the truth. It revises our memories.
The time when homophobia and racism becomes a problem is when it is used purely to push your own inner hatred. OOC harassment is a problem. That is the sort of thing we should not, and cannot condone.
All of this, I feel, harkens back to a problem that’s been debated a lot on LotC: continuity. Elves get angry with the human community that they want a more modern setting with artillery and colonialism. LGBTQ+ character players want a safespace of no homophobia, racism, and such. There’s an answer to both: you don’t have to look for conflict. You don’t have to hurt your character. You don’t have to push yourself into being PKed by some sort of hate crime. What you do need is to acknowledge that you can’t always guarantee that you won’t be triggered very easily. Conflict exists, and every person can’t edit themselves IRPly, and their story to your needs. The same goes the other way, though. It isn’t biased.
One place not accepting enough? Move. One place too accepting? Move.
When it’s a novel: it’s easy. We have all the cards in the deck; we can fill out this world. It’s a little different with roleplay. The world isn’t yours, and the world isn’t theirs, and that’s okay.
I’ll leave this with a bottom line, and the closest thing I can articulate to being an answer:
Yes, all that can exist, respectfully.((on a side note, don’t harass people and force them into uncomfortable situations: that’s an issue.))
5 -
You hit the nail right on the head.
Rolling is a great system depending on the context. The main issue in my personal opinion when it becomes the default this way is leaving it to the RNG. The randomness is powergaming, almost. Countless times in my experience rolling can make or break roleplay. It’s worked in D&D for years, because that has always been it’s central system. There’s an unspoken agreement when it’s there that goes:
“This is how it is, you signed up for it, this is fair.”
When there’s a sudden change here it’ll bring about bad things I feel. Rolling will become the default because you have a better chance to win by RNG if you’re surrounded by 8 goons with swords than basic CRP. I completely agree on your statement on 10 blocks changing to 4, also. I don’t think this system is all bad. I think it had good intent, and I think in some situations it might bring about good things. Any Orenian roleplayer remembers the CasualNuker vs. Sergisala nightmare.
Where my problem lies is similar to yours: powergaming, metagaming, and the defender having fear of losing a conflict. Rolling is nice, this is not.5 -
- Candidate’s Full Name: Gino Falcone
- Age of the Candidate: 31 (1757)
- Street Address of the Candidate: d’Arkent Square 4
0 -
A d’Amato Falcone Union,
To be held on the 5th of the Grand Harvest in the Helena Basilica
[[OOC: Saturday, the 26th, 4 PM EST]]
A personal invite was sent to the following friends and family:
BEST MAN:Deputy Mayor, Vittorio Antonio Falcone,
@AoxomoxoaBRIDESMAID:
Vincenza d’Amato
@MimosaMoi
GUEST OF HONOR:
Secretary of the Interior, Padraig O’Rourke,
@Mandalore1
Belladonna d’Amato @maliiah
Lorenzo Augustus d’Amato @jcbeno
Giada Fiorella d’Amato @minty_roses
Lusia d’Amato @PrettyCuteAnna
Veronica d’Amato @_Capitalx_
Gustavo d’Amato @Covey
Mayor Dimitri Orlov @BogsBinny
Sheriff General Aleksei Orlov @Aplex
Trevor @Borin
Santiana O’Rourke @Radzig
Jeanne O’Rourke @Pompadour
HOC, Ostromir Carrion @Lhindir_
Archchancellor Jonah Stahl-Elendil @Braehn Elendil An'Hiraeth
Jolynn @Madyssey
Santiago Delacruz @Gousby
Toni Talhoffer @Jagdkatzchen
Tara Morgryn @EmiliainWonderlandJohn Francis Winter @gemini95
...And other friends and family of the duo.
[[ooc note: Sorry for the lateness of this post; there were a lot of scheduling difficulties. Better late than never!]]
5
HOW A BIRD MUST FLY
in Human Realms & Culture
Posted · Edited by RaindropsKeepFalling
HOW A BIRD MUST FLY
The roads were musty that day. The endless snow pelted at each roof where families huddled together in warm blankets. The mothers tended their children, comforting them.
“Play tomorrow, darling,” they’d say as if they were a hen to their chick. “It’s cold.”
Lost in little understanding, the children were bored.
Only a single soul longed for the colder days. The times where it wasn’t enough to envelope yourself in scarves. Only to stay inside, pulling a dusty book from the shelf, curious for its contents. Her name was Cajsa, and she was barely a child.
She delved into the poetry of the atomic-sized things. The little dewdrops sliding from the petal of a flower. The lost feathers that fell from the sky, clipped by a feline perhaps.
Since she was a smaller girl, there was an unending pressure in the rat-race of the Imperial system. She’d glance into the sky, lit up by little spotlights, dots: the stars. Did they worry all the same? Did they hold a pang of underlying guilt? She wished to be a star, left as a concept, only a bright moment that dissipated as the sun rose.
Thus, she disappeared. In the midday warmth, she crept from the wide concrete roads, into the past: the tropics. The tall palms, the sand left in the heel of her boots, the bright sun further tanning her freckled skin. Romance: a true love to find one day, packing your bags and taking a leap without a scarce look back. The idealistic sentiment had been instilled since she was but eight. She hadn’t met the boy; instead, she figured, it was the place.
In 1801, Cajsa Serene Baelius vanished without a trace. It was not an abnormal night. The birds chirped amidst the leafless trees and the snowfall continued, pelting down on an unlucky passerby. Yet, the girl was gone.
Two notes remained. One lay in her dusty desk. The second slipped under the crack of the Wick’s door in the aurora. The countless books she’d rant about had gone with her. She’d dare not leave them behind.
The first note was in her scrawling cursive, edges ripped as it had been in a rush. All she had time for was to scrap the page from her beloved journal.
To My Parents
By the time you are reading this, I’d suppose I have gone. It makes it no better, but I’ll excuse myself with “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my anxiousness would get the best of me.
I’m sorry for the eccentric rants that went on.
I’m sorry for breaking apart what you tried so hard to keep glued together.
If I was only not myself; I would make you proud. You’ll start angry, then feel sad; it is my cowardice. I find it worse, speaking out in a harsh yell: I am this! The cries, I’m fearful of their echo. I am a selfish girl, that way.
If only the world was a more lovely place. Or I was a more lovely person. If I was perfect with golden goals, set in the stone. Like those aging statues of the leaders of yore. The memories they hold, of people sure what they wanted. I don’t know if they were sure. I just must believe that somewhere, somehow, there is a modicum of fairness. If it is not true, it is what ought to be. If that is a crime then go ahead and prosecute me, for I would plead guilty.
I do not mean to be ungrateful. Simply entertain me, however, and read a small story.
Once upon a time, there was a girl. Her name was Pepper. She was a happy child, without a care in the whole wide world inside her city. Along came chaos with tales of demonic things. It left her anxious. She grew up a little, and the whole world decided to migrate to a whole new world. Like a ball, she bounced back, but since birth thoughts remained in her mind. The bad thoughts, the “what if’s.”
She loved the sun, always waiting for it to rise each day so she could go play. But it soon turned repetitive, and she grew restless. She began to wish to see the moon and its glowing face. She was an owl, living as a songbird. She figured: “I must soar.”
One day, she found her nest, but it lay far away, made up of sticks and mud. She loved it from the pit of her heart. They all told her to find love, but it wasn’t a mate. It was her nest.
She took flight.
Even though it is only a story I hope you may understand. I shall not be gone; I am not an angst-filled creature wishing to never speak again. I love you both, so much.
But, before my wings are truly clipped: I have to see the tops of the trees.
I’m sorry,
Kaia
To Rahtol
When I was twelve you gave me a bouquet. It was meant to symbolize that we would always stick shoulder to shoulder, side by side. We’d be friends forever. I hope, and I pray that this does not change that.
When I was fourteen we went to the Grove together and you loved it. I will only spare the real truth with you, as you did me with your Pa. I long for it. I have since I was ten years old. It is my escape, my story, my love. You are still my friend.
I will write, and I hope you may visit. I hope we may not ever break that promise. I wear your gloves loosely on my palms, traveling through the snow that belts a girl over the head with the blizzard’s winds. In the future, it will clear. We will see again, and I could return. I would run through the grass without care, and maybe you would follow.
The skies are ever cloudy, but before I go to seven of them I must see the world a bit for its virtue. Where it’s hot and temperate, for I’ve seen the cold. I’ve seen the water, and I’ve seen the land.
Today, I’ll fly. Today, you’ll find your mother and father. Today, nothing changes. I am not leaving you, and however bittersweet: recall me by a note.
Love,
“Pepper”
And as she could dearly hope: time went on and the overcast day elapsed. Perhaps different as to how it had begun, but all the same, majorly. When spring sprung up, migration would begin, but this fowl had already evanesced.