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AlphaMoist

Creative Wizard
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About AlphaMoist

  • Rank
    Fiction in your head that you keep on believing
  • Birthday 07/07/1998

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    AlphaMoist#5682
  • Minecraft Username
    Cr1TiKaLlyMoist

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  • Location
    Central Time Zone, the only time zone that actually exists
  • Interests
    Listening to music, Creative writing, Watching Adventure Time, Vibing with my pals, getting harassed by the community admin

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  1. "this spell is super difficult to pull off bro trust me" isn't all that great of an excuse to cast powerful spells. If a pebble is all it truly takes to stop the most powerful spells, you may as well just axe that redline and say "ooc consent is required for this spell to hit its target". Let's face it, the only way you're gonna pull off the big spells in this is via heavily scripted events (such as someone wanting to PK) or ooc bullshittery through the mage's part. "this takes a LOT of mana to cast" also isn't very good until ST write a concrete, thorough post regarding EXACTLY how mana works and how much active mana can be used by someone at any given time, not to mention how much active mana a mage/normie has to begin with. The biggest blunder in this, however, is that lightning evocation insists on the fact that it is real lightning, when it very much shouldn't be advertised as such. Understanding how lightning works requires a deep, comprehensive understanding of how electricity itself works. The way I see it, lightning evo either needs to stay shelved, or it needs to be written in a way that blatantly states THIS IS NOT REAL ELECTRICITY. Because, let's face it, it's not real electricity. People don't roleplay intensive nerve damage upon being struck. People don't roleplay the potential brain damage sustained from prolonged electrical exposure. People don't roleplay the potential anathemas or the numbness or the scalding burns or the paralysis (correctly.) They just get zapped, flop around a little, maybe tense up, maybe they act a bit "stunned", but in reality, anyone involved in an electrical attack irl, aside from tiny little shocks, normally need to go to an ER immediately due to the potential complications a powerful electrical current arcing through your body can cause. You can get the insides of your organs burned and barely have a mark on your bare flesh. How the **** you gonna roleplay getting out of that healthily with medieval medicine? You don't. An abscess forms inside of you around the area of the burn, you get an infection, suffer organ failure, and you ******* die. When using electricity as a weapon, you are either trying to stun someone, or you are trying to kill them. There is no in between. Either say lightning evocation ISN'T electricity, just a mimicry of it, and outline specifically what it does, or nerf it down to a basic support magic. Take this as your base spell: "My lightning attack looks like electricity, but it actually just feels like you're being punched with something really hot. Your character will have bad burns and possible bruising from the impact, but those are the only issues the spell itself will create for your character." And then progress it upwards from there. Or, alternatively, use real electricity for the spells, outline a basic electricity 101 lesson on your lore page, and have the magic consist of mostly support spells with one or two high level damaging spells. Shocking fingertips, tazing blast, whatever the **** you would call a spell that inflicts short term paralysis, and then having "lightning calldown" as your T5 damaging spell. But don't make it ridiculously easy to block or ridiculously easy to stop. It's useless putting in a spell if no one can use it outside specific circumstances or through bullshittery. Don't make it an instant kill, but do stress that if the strike is successful, the average person is going to be out of the fight and in a hospital. That's how real electricity works. It's either barely going to be an inconvenience, or it is going to stun you, or it is going to take you out of a fight if it doesn't kill you. Not trying to sound like a ****, and I do enjoy reading what you put on a piece of paper, tox. There's a good few things I enjoy about this magic, such as a basic properties section which kind of sorta outlines how the lightning behaves. Unfortunately, I just think electricity is just too complex of a thing to trust in the hands of the LOTC playerbase. You have wannabe electricians who say they won't get tased because they saw a video of a guy who could tank a taser, you have actual electricians who see something emoted at them, roll their eyes because it's not realistic, and then take the hit because they don't want to give a science lesson, and you have the mages who think electricity is the ultimate PK magic and believe nothing will stop them (which is kind of true, to be fair). Electricity is just too easy to powergame or misunderstand, and such is always going to be something hanging over Lightning Evo's head.
  2. What is your favorite writing piece I've produced, creative or lore What is your writing process Where do you find most of your inspiration What do you do when confronted with writer's block Do you do any writing for school Have you always been interested in writing Did you have a good birthday How did you find lotc before you started playing What is your favorite thing about lotc What is your least favorite thing about lotc Creation lore. Then we'd all be freed. <img src="> based
  3. A loud churning followed by a crashing clank. Afterwards? An ear-piercing sizzle eclipsed by excruciating, burning pain. And now: numbness. Cold, dark numbness. I can’t say how long I was out after the accident, but I can only assume anywhere between weeks or months have passed. Steam explosions are always serious, and I was absolutely amazed to be alive. When I awoke, I found myself to be alone in a dark, metallic chamber. I assumed this to be some sort of medical facility, partly because such would make sense, and partly because I was attached to many different machines. While they may have been supplying my body with vital nutrients during my coma, I desperately wished to be free from the many wires and tubes piercing my body. One by one, I began using my slow, clammy hands to grip and detach these entangled wires and tubes. Each one slid out of my body with enough effort, and once freed, an odd shock pulsated through my body. It’s difficult to describe the sensation perfectly, but if I had to try, I would describe it as pain if pain were painless. I assumed this to be a side effect of whatever topical anesthesia the nurses had been using on me, and therefore I thought little of it. Once free from my medical bindings, I took a singular step forward from my vertical bed. It was difficult, to say the least. Not only was I certain my muscles had atrophied by this point, but I felt exasperatingly heavy as well. My foot hit the floor with an audible thud which echoed throughout the medical facility, and with enough effort, my other foot followed suit. This is when I took a moment to fully observe my surroundings while I rested. The facility was far different from any other hospital room I had encountered prior. For one, the walls and floor lacked the sterile white coloring they are so famous for. Everything was a simple, dingy metallic color. Various other standing beds littered the wall closest to me, and rather than looking like medical cots, they seemed to be entirely metallic as well. Various intravenous tubes and wires were attached directly to these beds, which in turn were attached to machines: just like my own. Bioluminescent crystals dotted the metallic ceilings, giving the space enough light to sleep in, but surely not enough to provide a suitable work environment. The room also lacked windows which would allow excess light to flood the environment, however, there was a door on the wall opposite of me. No doubt I had awakened during odd hours of the night. At the very least, whoever had been taking care of me was no longer doing so until morning, presumably. Aside from the explosion, I remembered little else of the event or any events prior. This disturbed me. Once confident I wouldn’t collapse from exhaustion on my way towards the door, I began making my way across the room. Slow at first, I was surprised to find each step being easier and easier to make. Once I reached the door, my joints felt rejuvenated, and it was as if I hadn’t been laying in my bed for heaven knows how long. I was both perplexed and relieved. I reached for the pulley handle located beside the door, and after giving it a harsh tug, I could hear a series of ticks begin to sound from the entrance. This was followed by gears beginning to turn, and finally, the door split horizontally, then diagonally, and it retracted into its frame. I was free. The hallway, just like the infirmary before it, was clad entirely in metal, which caused every step I made to create a loud, booming echo that surely permeated the entirety of the facility I found myself in. Entirely devoid of life, I was beginning to come to the conclusion that I was the only inhabitant in the immediate area. To my satisfaction, I was wrong. After passing a few different rooms and turning various corners, I came across what appeared to be a woman with long, brown hair clad in a white, pristine lab coat. Small, brass glasses fixed with thick, oval lenses rested against her nose, and clutched between her hands was a bulky, rust-colored handheld computer. She had been frozen in place, possibly due to the outrageously loud footsteps I had been emitting, and the moment her brown eyes caught a glimpse of me, they widened in shock. I waved at the woman, and I attempted to speak. “Hello ma’am, could you direct me to the nearest medical staff? I’m not quite sure where I am, but I do remember being involved in an accident before losing consciousness.” Hearing myself, I could tell I was not in the best of shape. My voice was a higher pitch than what felt should be normal, and I had difficulty properly enunciating my words. I don’t think she quite understood me either, because once I finished speaking, she dropped her heavy computer onto the floor, causing its green-hued screen to crack. She no longer looked shocked, but instead her facial expression became what I could recognize as being rather horrified. “Y-you shouldn’t b-be active right now,” she stammered out in a hushed tone, slowly beginning to back away from me. Quite certain she was correct, I responded calmly in an effort to put her at ease. “Yes, I think I’m aware of that now. Most likely, I awoke ahead of schedule. That could explain why none of the doctors were waiting for me in that room - perhaps this means I could be getting back to work soon as well?” I jested: another attempt to reassure her I meant no harm. I must not be well versed in the ways of humor, however, as she immediately screamed and attempted to run away. Instinctually, I gave chase. I was in desperate need of help, and this woman was most likely the only person capable of assisting me at the time. Together, our footsteps created an unusual symphony of discourse and adrenaline. She fled in a flurry of madness, arms pumping at her sides to give her any ounce of momentum to escape from me. I was absolutely baffled - entirely astounded by what could be frightening the woman so horridly. Honestly, I began to grow rather angry. I was in desperate need of help, and instead of offering kindness, she was exhibiting the behavior seen before me. Shockingly, it didn’t take long for me to catch up with her. I was much faster, despite having recently woken from a coma. I reached out and grabbed the woman’s wrist, and the symphony we produced erupted in a crescendo of loud, cracking bones and a shrill, ear-splitting cry of pain and torment. Her wrist seemed to have snapped under the pressure of my grip, and she began sobbing hysterically, wailing for help. Afraid she would attract unwanted attention before I had a chance to apologize and make things right, I attempted to cover her mouth with my free hand until she calmed down. In my rush to silence her, I seem to have applied too much pressure to her temporomandibular joints. They caved in on themselves, unhinging her lower jaw from her skull and effectively crushing it. Immediately I released her, and her agonized wailing lowered significantly in volume. She collapsed on the floor, clutching her mangled jaw with her hand as she gagged on the copious amount of blood pooling from her severed facial artery. Ten seconds, nine seconds, she stopped breathing. Six seconds, five seconds, she began to lose consciousness. Three seconds, two seconds, she stopped moving. When her body fully relaxed, her face was frozen in a tight, horrified expression that defied contemplation. While I was examining her body out of morbid curiosity, a sudden force pushed against my shoulder, sending me to the ground. Landing on my side, when I looked in the direction the blow had come from, I was met with the faces of multiple security officers clad in leather garments wielding large, brass rifles. The soldier wielding a rifle with steam leaving its barrel had quickly begun cranking a lever fixed to the side of the device, and as gears turned with each revolution of the crank-shaft, I could almost physically see copious amounts of air being sucked down the barrel. Once he finished charging his weapon, he took aim at me once again. “It was an accident, please, I just need help!” I called out to them, raising my hands in the air in an attempt to show anything other than hostility to the man. He did not respond, and as I stared at him, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind: rushed, hurried. I turned around to meet the assailant: a short, stocky man sporting a large, red beard wielding what looked to be an axe. Its shaft was dotted with multiple small gears on its side. At its tip was a shining, blue blade made out of some sort of pulsating energy. As the assailant swung downwards, a fwoosh of steam shot out the back end of the axe’s tip, sending the blade down towards my arm with ungodly force. With reflexes I did not know I possessed, I shot away from the blade’s strike and pushed the man into the wall adjacent to me. The metal indented, and my hand was forced into his skin as soft, delicate bone was crushed beneath my strike. I could tell I sent his sternum splintering into his trachea, with multiple ribs now sinking slowly into his lungs. He coughed, sputtered, and as he spit a copious amount of blood into my face. A click rang out within the halls, followed by the sound of a miniature sonic boom. I was struck in my side, and a loud metallic clang resonated around me. Some sort of metal device, again bronze, had ejected from my chest and had skidded across the floor. It looked like some sort of chestpiece. Confused, I looked back towards the soldier arming his weapon again, and the other soldiers beside him began arming various other instruments of ill-willed design. Before I could begin apologizing once again, an ominous noise became apparent to me. Tick, tick, tick, tick. I began looking around for its source. Tick, tick, tick, tick. I looked down at myself. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Where a gaping chest wound should have been was replaced with the open crevice of my body. I observed myself closely, growing confused, frustrated, and irrational as I did so. Tubes and wires, akin to those of the machine I had awoken next to, littered my body, squeezed in between varying sizes of gears and pistons. Instead of organs, I had glass jars filled with various different liquids in their place. The gears seemed to have been assisting the pumping of these fluids across my body. Two large jars rested where a human’s lungs would be, and they filled with black, carbonous smoke on every fourth tick. Tick, tick, tick, tick, sssss. Tick, tick, tick, tick, fwoosh. I looked behind myself, and following every eighth tick, a dark black smog expelled from tubes protruding from my back. Another series of four ticks, and fresh air was sucked inside the vacuum within my chest. I looked down at my legs, and where flesh should be, only metal could be found. Fully encased in a brass shell, I was now keenly knowledgeable of the vibrations the gears within this shell were creating with every revolution they made. I looked down at my hands. My bloody, metallic hands. Skeletal in nature, beneath the tangent, red ichor covering my right hand rested an orange colored coating of paint. The left hand was covered in a yellow coating of paint. I flexed my hands, closed them into fists, and slowly opened them. I felt wires and pulleys operate my movements, not tendons and ligaments. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. I’m human. I’m human. I work in the mining shafts of the Gaping Mountain. I work laborious hours to provide for my family. A family I do not recall. I don’t remember their faces, but I was involved in an accident, yes? A coma caused me to enter a state of amnesia, yes? “‘appens all teh toime wit’ t’ese rampents. Can’t ‘andle self-awareness loik the ot’ers,” I heard one of the soldiers tell his colleagues. “Foiken Automata.” I looked at them. They withdrew their weapons, and they now focused on simply observing me. More women clad in scientific coats had appeared, appearing to take notes on their large mobile computers. I tried to speak. I tried my damndest to speak, but almost like a veil being removed from my mind and opening myself to the true nature of my existence, I could now truly hear myself. “Au-au-au-to-to-to-ma-a-a-a-a?” My speech was interrupted repeatedly with a series of stutters and clicks, with each interruption causing my voice to grow higher and higher before resetting to its usual deep tone. “Rampant-ant-ant-ant? No. No. N-N-N-No. Hyoo-man. Hyooman-an-an-an.” I began shaking my head, and I looked down at myself again. “No. No. N-N-N-o-o-o.” I reached into the crevice left behind from the airbulest, and I pulled out a gear. It hurt, and I had to use excessive force to pry it from its socket, but I felt I had no choice if I truly wished to find the truth behind my existence. Bringing it up to my face, I continued shaking my head. “Not-true, not-true, not-true-ue-ue-ue-ue,” I repeated frantically. I began pulling other gears out, desperate to find flesh and bone. I pried wires and tubes away from the jars, spilling the sickly, chemical smelling liquids over my metallic components. I wanted to see blood. I was desperate to find blood. My blood. I began pulling myself apart with wanton abandon, observing each part closely at first, but as my rationale began fading more and more, I eventually just began to chuck these parts aside in search of real organs which would confirm the dwarves’ lies. I grew weaker and weaker, falling onto my knees without care. Metal, wires, gears, tubes, none of them made from flesh. “N-No-o-o-o-o-o-o,” I cried out, or, rather, attempted to cry out. I could not force my voice to be loud or quiet. It was always the same monotonous pitch. I had no choice in how I sounded, just as I had no choice but to find where the **** the ungodly ticking inside my chest was coming from. It was abhorrent, annoying, anger inducing. I hated it. I wanted it removed. Finally, I pulled out the deepest instrument I could find: a clock-like device dotted with knobs and dials. I could not understand the interface etched into its face, but with it free, the ticking was louder than ever. Tick tick tick tick ssss, tick tick tick tick fwoosh, tick tick tick tick ssss, tick tick tick tick fwoosh. Protruding from and sinking deeply within the clock-like device were more tubes and wires than any other competent I had found. I stared at it with a sense of perplexion. I knew the item which lay within my hand was the entirety of my being. Everything I was, am, and will ever be was this item. To think my entire existence could be denounced to a singular component. A singular, irrelevant piece of manufacturing by creators who had designed me to be broken. This clock in my hands was me. All of my hopes, dreams, wants and desires: reduced to a clock. I hated it. I hated me. I ripped the clock-like device from its wires and tubing, and everything went black. ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- “This can’t keep happening,” I heard a feminine voice speak. “We can’t keep producing these automata if all it takes is for one little accident to send them on a spree of rampancy. This is the seventh incident this year, and it’s the second of which that has resulted in fatality.” “You wanted us to design something that felt more real,” a male voice echoed. “Mapping a sentient’s consciousness onto a piece of metal is complicated work. Flaws are expected to develo-” “Flaws don’t kill people!” she interrupted. “They were better when they couldn’t think. When they couldn’t question themselves! When they didn’t ******* wake up on their own!” “Okay,” the man sighed out, sounding defeated. “We’ll work on it. Recall the units, tinker around some more. A buddy of mine has theorized that using an adult’s mindset is what is causing their denial. We’ll work on using a child’s with this next batch. Children are dumb enough to believe anything.” I heard footsteps pacing atop of metallic flooring. “Next time this occurs, security will use lethal weaponry. I don’t care about saving you money anymore. They rip themselves apart in the end anyways. Now make sure that thing can’t wake up again.” There was a long pause. “Yes ma’am.” Another series of footsteps sounded, and I could hear the whirring of some sort of device. Following this was the crackling of electricity, and afterwards, my remaining sensations faded away. I found solace and peace within the void.
  4. If you start feeling drained, bored, or otherwise unhappy with the server, don't be afraid to take a break. It's really easy to get addicted or feel like you have a responsibility to perform by logging in and rping with your group, but you can't throw yourself under the bus and start putting other people's desires before your own. If you need a break, take a break. If you're in the middle of rping with someone, and they critique what you're doing or how you're describing something, try not to get offended and upset, but also don't immediately take something to heart. We all have our own roleplaying styles, and it's important to find your own rather than copy pasting someone else's. That being said, sometimes we do make mistakes and we do need to do a better job at describing things better, especially during combat roleplay. Try to take a step back and judge whether or not the criticism is warranted or not, and continue with rp appropriately. Above all else, don't let people take advantage of you. Seriously. People will recruit new players as cannon fodder all the time, or they'll target new players and try to convince them to join their settlements in order to increase activity, and it can be difficult to tell someone no. Straight up, if you don't want to join someone's rp group, just don't and tell them no. If they continue to hassle you, get a mod. Now, don't outright ignore roleplay ever, but instead respond appropriately in irp, and maybe add a line in #ooc saying you're not interested in joining. You'll also find that if you're talented at building, or writing lore, or can teach magic, people may push you to help them with their build, or their lore, or to become their magic teacher (with the latter being most common). The above paragraph falls straight in line with this. You're not entitled to help anyone you don't want to help. Even if you're afraid to be mean, don't be afraid to say no. Being taken advantage of sucks, and eventually it just wears you down until you quit or blow up. Remember: this is just a Minecraft server, as Worldeater stated. Try not to get too invested in your characters or your rp group or your staff position if you eventually get one. Taking this game too seriously can really **** with your mental health, and I know people who would start crying at the thought of their characters becoming the victims to villainy rp. As an example, I got kicked off the lore team almost a year ago, and I let myself get way way too invested in the position, and I still get pretty depressed over it if I think about it. That's pretty ******* stupid considering this is literally just a Minecraft server for teenagers, but that can happen if you get too attached. Be mindful of what you say around people if you start joining lotc's many discords. Joking around with your friends is completely fine, but saying the wrong thing around the wrong people could lead to you accidentally making people uncomfortable. I personally have had a lot of stuff I've said screenshotted and taken out of context to make me look bad. It's easy for people to misunderstand things, and sometimes you have to take a moment to stop and think before you say or do something. The rumor mill runs amuck on lotc. Just mind your own business and try not to become apart of it. A lot of people talk about **** they don't know anything about just because they want to, and I've found myself guilty of this as well many a time. It's unfortunate. Make sure you take consideration for other's enjoyment as well as your own. Roleplaying is about crafting a story, not just for yourself, but for everyone you interact with. It's easy to become selfish and focus only on your wants and goals, but be mindful of others' as well. You don't want to be recognized as the player who doesn't care what other people are doing. Roleplay the bad sides of your character, roleplay disadvantages, roleplay getting hurt, roleplay being sad. Be realistic, be immersive. People will remember you roleplaying downsides a lot faster than they'll remember you playing a cool character, and they'll respect you a lot more too. Most importantly, and above all else, don't forget that the characters you are interacting with may be fictional, but the people behind them are very much real. It is so, so easy to start seeing the people of lotc as a bunch of ones and zeros behind a screen, and it's really easy to dehumanize them because of it. Really, please try not to do this. We are all human beings here, except @Freja. We all have feelings, and we all have emotions. Be kind and courteous to your fellow player. Too many people on here don't give a **** about this, and they make this community a pretty toxic one. Just have fun dude, and keep having fun. My discord is AlphaMoist#5682 if you have any questions or need any tips, and I'll try to help you in any way I can. I hope you enjoy your time here my dude.
  5. Are the forums broken on Mobile for anyone else

  6. So do old Hou-Zi players just go bald and become humans  or do they just go infertile and become one of those things new players question when they run into them on the server 

    1. Mirtok

      Mirtok

      I believe the post said that everyone can still play their Wonks and Hou-zis, there just wont be any new ones played by players.

    2. frill

      frill

      Their tails fall off also

  7. Can't wait for malgonious to come back and go mad at the noob recruiting
  8. Shade definitely didn't enrich **** but drama headaches and boredom. Sometimes lore is just bad and needs to go. Not sure why hou-zi got shelved besides inactivity since from what I remember, they actually had some really deep culture and ****, but wonks were also pretty much just a meme race that people got tired of really fast. Rip to the really good wonk players who were trying to make something of it, but at least now you won't have new players and trolls trying to rp as pepe.
  9. I remember forever ago when you first came back, we rp'd for like five minutes. When we were done, something made me bring it up in LT chat and everyone started hyping you up big time. Definitely regret not furthering the rp more when I still played, you seemed like a really cool guy.
  10. Dale was the best shade, surprising how you managed to convince so many people he wasn't one
  11. Literally the best way to drop shade btw, among the best rp I've ever experienced. Thank ******* god
  12. Did I meet you in haelunor Is that time I choked out anethra and called her a whiny ***** still your favorite rp moment with us Do you wish I could choke anethra out more, and how would that affect her character development Is anethra still so sad Theoretically, what kind of girl would anethra be if she was happy go lucky, and do you think you would still enjoy playing her Would you ever consider a shot at lore admin Make an ST tier list If we were to meet up irl to hangout what do you think we would end up doing Do you think your two cats and dog would like me Have you told your cats my fiancée says hello lately, because she does, and she still loves seeing them on snap Will you play warzone with me Will you do the glue on roach thing again for me please
  13. IGN: TheAlphaMoist Category: Creative Writing Piece: The Curse of Awareness https://docs.google.com/document/d/18D0EtWrtjflRKJuYbj4xWGN9ZtfV3diAsvGuFQJwphg/edit?usp=sharing Content warning: violence
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