LewisBMX

Out-Of-Character Details Minecraft Account Name: LewisBMX How old are you?: 14 years old. Time-Zone/Country of Residence: +0 GMT, Wales. Do you have a good grip on English grammar and the English language?: Yes, I may only be fourteen years old however I feel that my grammar and spelling are appropriate for joining the server. Have you had any previous experience in roleplaying?: I have been role-playing on and off for the past year, I played on a few semi-RP servers before finally settling down on another server which I have played for the past maybe five or six months; this server has gotten a little worse in my opinion thus why I am looking for an alternative server to spend my time on. Have you read and understood and agree to the rules?: Of course. How did you hear about the Lord of the Craft?: As I stated in one of the earlier questions, I was looking for an alternative role-playing server to spend my time on and this server was recommended by a couple of my friends. Link any previous applications you have made to the Lord of the Craft: None, as of yet. Have you posted this application on Minecraft Forum? If not, post it here: http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/832121-the-lord-of-the-craft-enter-the-world-of-asulon-o-f-f-i-c-i-a-l-l-y-t-h-e-n-o-1-r-p-s-e-r-v-e-r-100-unique-gameplay/! : EDIT: I have now posted it on the Minecraft Forum thread. Definitions In your own words, define what the act of roleplaying is: In my opinion, roleplaying is putting yourself into the shoes of another person or being, whether the person in question is made up or a real person it does not matter. Once you have put yourself into the shoes of this person or being you would then live your life as if you are them, thinking, acting, even walking the same as they would. In your own words, define what the act of meta-gaming is: Meta-gaming is when you use knowledge from out of character sources such as the forums or other online sources to gather knowledge about the in-game world or characters which you can then use whilst role-playing in game to your own benefit. For example: John finds out Jill is deathly allergic to ice-cream whilst talking to Jill in real life, after they get in game John would then bring along a cone of ice-cream to the next battle to ensure his victory despite the fact John's character had absolutely no idea about this terrible allergy to ice-cream. In your own words, define what the act of power-emoting is: Power-emoting would be playing an over-powered, god like, or generally over the top character and/or doing actions which give the other player absolutely zero chance to react, an example of this would be: John swings his axe in a wide arc, throwing it into the wall and allowing it to bounce off multiple surfaces to instantly kill the fourteen fully armoured enemies infront of him. As you can see in the previous example that would be an over-powered, unavoidable action classed as power-gaming. In-Character Details Character Name: Mark Blackadder Character Race: Human Character biography - Make this at least 2 paragraphs long, which must explain your character’s history, appearance, personality, age and any other details you deem necessary: Mark Blackadder looks down at Aethan's grave and gives a solemn nod, dropping a single flower down onto the top of the coffin before letting out a long sigh, "A good man, by golly he was." Mark Blackadder is a just above average height human, just under twenty-nine years of age, his eyes are blue, one eye being slightly darker shade than the other. He is never seen without his long grey robe or cowl around his face. Mark wears his medium-length hair across his face, just above eye level; his hair is a light brown colour, despite how light his hair is it constantly looks muddy and dirty. Mark Blackadder is a solemn fellow, rarely giving out any unneeded information to anyone he might be conversing with; he will never choose to initiate a conversation, despite being quite talkative and might even crack the odd joke if someone else begins speaking to him. Mark Blackadder had just been off on one of his regular visits to the grave of his old friend Aethan -- an elderly mercenary, along with an old colleague of his back in Mark's life as a late teen. He left the small flower as was his normal procedure before heading back to his small shack in Ager. As he arrived, he placed himself down in a stiff wooden chair and tapped the small pouch of coins at his side, "Running a little low, perhaps I could.." He paused for a moment, "No, no, Aethan wouldn't want me to start that again," He murmured to himself. After a fair few weeks longer, after a fair few more coins had been spent and not returned to his coin pouch, he finally made a decision. He would sell his small shack and head up towards the capital city of the Holy Oren Empire, Arethor, to get off his lazy behind and finally do something to make a name for himself (and hopefully his fortune while he is at it.) Earlier in his life, Mark had worked as a pay-for-hire mercenary, hired and commanded by Aethan Blackhand. At the time Aethan was only a low ranking mercenary, in turn commanded by Verel Mooncloak. Verel was an honourable man, despite this both Aethan and Mark never trusted him entirely. Mark worked for a few long years after getting hired back when he was only nineteen years of age, he worked for the company up until he reached twenty-five years old, leaving along with Aethan to live quietly in Ager. Mark and Aethan both became great friends, despite the fact that Mark was simply one of Aethan's staff members, it never bothered Mark. The two of them were great friends for the time they worked together, unlike the rest of the company, not a very tightly-knit community in the slightest. Both of them left when mark reached twenty-five, Aethan at the ripe age of forty-three; after leaving the two of them moved to Ager, giving up mercenary work to settle down and live their lives properly. Aethan lived for another two years after leaving the guild, before settling down in a rather large house and eventually dying, only four months after buying the place. His death was from unknown causes, presumably some sort of infection or virus; it was most probably related to his elderly age. Mark was startled by this sudden death which had occurred, and of course he was grieving terribly. He spent the next couple of months held up inside his house, not really spending any time going and seeing the outside world or even trying to make and form of socialization with his other friends or members of his village. Back to after he visited the grave, at the age of twenty-nine: Mark plodded along on his horse, looking back every now and again to see if anyone was following him along the narrow path. He purposely left without much preparation, or idea on what he was going to do; because of this he headed on a much longer path to Arethor, full of twists and turns, rather than the short pathway which was just over a mile until it reached the city. Doing this gave him a real chance to plan what he was going to do when he actually arrived at Arethor, as before now he had really had no chance to make up his mind. After a couple of hours riding, the sun was beginning to set and Mark decided it was time to turn off the winding pathways that circled the city and actually head forwards into Arethor. Dusk fell before Mark had predicted, thus leaving him on the thin pathways encased in darkness at the beginning of nightfall. He was slightly nervous about this, however his past life as a mercenary, along with the time he spent training with Aethan had reassured him. He forgot about the dark fog that shrouded him after an hour or so of riding, before long arriving at the great gates of Arethor and smiling to himself, proud that he had finally made the first steps toward achievement, and knowing that Aethan would have been proud that he had not kept himself holed up inside his house full of grief. Shortly after arriving within the mighty walls of Arethor: Mark had left his horse in the stables and produced a few shining coins, which he placed firmly into the hands of the stable-master before making his way inside the walls, into the city itself. Soon after making his way into the city, reminded once again by the darkness the encased him, he looked around before heading towards the nearest inn. Mark booked himself a room for the night, waiting a few more moments downstairs before heading up into his room with a little sadness on his face as he tapped his coin pouch once again, the ever-dwindling supply of coins running much lower than when he had set off. And with that, he lay back into his bed and looked up at the cealing. He had made his first steps into the big, wild world of adventure. What are your characters ambitions?: To finally make a name for himself and hopefully earn some coin while he is at it, most of his reason for leaving Ager is the fact he knows Aethan wouldn't want Mark to grieve and just spend his life stocked up inside his little shack. Please provide an in-game screenshot of your skin here: Is there anything else you would like to say about your character: Not particularly, however I would like to say that Mark Blackadder's parents are not dead, they are in fact very much alive; Mark however was never close with his parents and left soon after he turned into his mid-teens to make a name for himself. Open-Response-Questions Each question here must be answered with a minimum of one full paragraph, and detail the scene you are given in the way it would happen in roleplay. These questions should be answered in first person. Be detailed, not short. Upon entering the Mighty Human City of Arethor, you come across a shop-keeper calling out to sell his wares to passers-by. The shopkeeper is not a Human, he is a poor dwarf looking to make a living in a new city. What is your response? I would have my head down as the Dwarf calls out to me, I would raise one eye before looking back down at the floor and beginning to walk straight past the trader. "Come on, my lad, just a few coins," The dwarf would say, his persistence was admirable. I would look up a second time, this time spending a few moments watching the dwarf properly rather than just raising one eye. After watching the dwarf for a few seconds I would pat down myself and begin walking over to the trader's stall. "How much for this.. uh.." I would say to him as I pick up a crude dagger, obviously made by someone with now too much skill, "For this dagger, yes. How much will this thing cost me?" I continue, placing the dagger back on the edge of the stall and looking up to focus my eyes on the dwarf once again. "Oh that ol' thing, just four coins. Not much to pay when in turn it will get me a good nights sleep at the inn." The dwarf would reply, still trying to persuade me into spending my low supply of coins with him. I push the dagger a little further onto the table to show I am not interested in it before stifling a sigh and bringing up my coin purse to count what was left inside. "Here, I'm sure I won't need them," I said as I picked out four of the less shiny coins and placed them into the outstretched palm of the dwarf a little reluctantly. The dwarf looked up and was about to speak before nodding multiple times with a grin on his face. "Oh thank y-.." He began speaking. "Don't mention it, it is the least I could do," I stopped him with a raised hand and shook my head, he nodded in reply, keeping his lips sealed this time. I smiled beneath my hood and nodded once more before bringing my hand back to my side and turning in the direction of the tavern. The dwarf was left placing the coins into his pouch as I walked away. You’re wandering the Oren Road late at night, when a large Orc begins to threaten a nearby dwarf. There is no help nearby, and the situation looks like it will escalate into violence soon, what does your character do? I would be wandering forwards, my eyes peeled on the situation unfolding before my eyes. "Don' eva say tha' about me 'n' my frien's again!" The orc would spit out with a heavy accent into the dwarf's face, bringing up a hand and lifting the stout dwarf until his back was pressed into the tree behind him. I would step to my left, into the shadows of the trees before stopping and watching the situation for a moment longer. The same thing happened, the orc spitting something out and then gripping the dwarf a little tighter before he had a chance to say anything in reply. I would lean forwards slightly, walking with my feet padding softly on the autumn leaves, crackling on the ground. As I neared the orc I slowed my steps, although the commotion was surely making enough noise to allow me to walk normally, however I decided against it. "Well then, what will we do with you," I said with confidence showing in my voice as I stepped out from the shadows of the leaves and walked into the center of the path until I was standing directly behind the orc, still holding the dwarf up against the tree. The orc dropped the dwarf down onto the floor and spun around, stumbling back as my previously readied fist flew up and hit him in the side of the jaw. "You know nothin' 'bout what's goin' on! Get outta 'ere!" The orc said ferociously before stopping and watching me for a few seconds, obviously waiting for me to either carry on along the path or throw another punch at him. I mirrored the orc, watching him with a tilted head and a raised brow. The orc continued staring for a few precious seconds, in which I was carefully reaching down to grab the dagger hidden inside my cloak, after the orc's staring ceased he grumbled to himself before stepping forwards. He leaned to the side before spinning back in the opposite direction, sending a heavy fist flying for my face. I leaned back and ducked down slowly, avoiding the heavy blow before instantaneously jumping upwards and swinging the hilt of my dagger for the back of the orc's head. The orc was still off-balance from his previous miss when the dagger hit him, he stumbled forwards a few paces and fell down onto one knee. He reached down for the sword at his sheath, whilst the orc was doing this I had already stepped forwards once again and repeated the procedure, my hilt coming heavily down on the orc's head and knocking him face-forwards onto the gravel. "Now, I suggest you get back to the city," I said as I took my eyes off the orc and sheathed my dagger, holding out a slightly bloodied hand to help up the dwarf who was still in shock from the whole thing. Whilst walking down the road to Malinor, you stumble upon an old man. His walking stick looks weak and frail, and just as you are about to ask something, the stick breaks and the man falls to the ground. As he falls down, a bag of Minas falls to the ground and splits open. As you watch the multiple coins spill out, you peer down at the defenceless man. What does your character do?: I raised a brow as the old man fell, my reactions sending me down onto my knees to the old mans side, ignoring the coins spreading across the pathway. I put one hand on the mans back and one hand holding his, helping him up to his feet as best I could. "Whoa there, are you alright?" I asked as the man rose to his feet along with my help, stepping side to side as if testing his balance without the stick, as I said this I took my hand away from the man's and allowed him to stand on his own for a few moments. "Yes, I'm fine thank-you very much, He said in a harsh tone with a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he looked down away from me and turned to look at the Minas spilling across the pathway. The man dusted himself off for a few moments before leaning down to start collecting his coins before stumbling forwards and almost falling a second time, as he did this I jumped forwards and held out a hand to make sure the man remained firmly on his feet. "Hm... No, allow me," I replied in a slightly frustrated tone as I checked a second time that the man was safe on his feet before leaning down to start collecting the Minas spread across the ground, I counted as I picked them up and found that he was carrying a rather large amount of money with him when he was travelling. I nodded as I picked up the final coin and turned to face the man, holding them all in what remained of the split coin purse as best as I could. "I believe these belong to you," I nodded and spoke as I handed him the coins. This time he didn't bother replied with words, instead he just grumbled and held out a hand to wrench the pouch from my hands. "Like I said I-.." He began speaking again, in the same tone as before. "Yeah, yeah. You don't need any of my help," I finished his sentence for him and shook my head before shrugging it off and turning in the direction I came from, walking back slightly faster back down the road and away from the old man.