01-22-2010, 05:34 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
Well, as you can guess, I like to roleplay. Intrigue, and seeing how two character types can bounce off of each other, are two things I love experiencing and experimenting with, but there's no roleplay I'm not interested in. I'm also a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to actual gameplay, able to tank, DPS, or heal (class and spec permitting) to a passable degree, and like seeing new (and hopefully spectacular) things ingame. I'm occasionally irresponsible with money, a vice that has followed me into (or followed from) real life.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
United States of America (New York, specifically), English (which is, embarrassingly, my only language. I do wish to learn Swedish or German at some point, though.)
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I floated through a few MMORPGs at the time and, through the recommendations of a friend or two, decided to try World of Warcraft. I found that, not only did it have RP-centric servers (something I had not previously experienced,) but was also one of the better MMOs I had played in terms of gameplay. As well as having its own lore and excellent soundtrack, I was hooked.
What made you seek our server over others?:
The fact that you have an application and, by extension, quality control. This server looks to have an integrity that I haven't seen in the other RP-centric private servers I've been on. The rules are concrete, intricate, and are those I wholeheartedly support, and this community looks intensely promising.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
A little bit of everything. Relaxing tavern roleplay or simple meetings can develop characters and show how they react to certain things, whereas battles are not only exciting, but can reveal a character's style of fighting, their willingness to fight, and their strength of muscle and will. If I like anything the most, it's those covert, tense situations like infiltration or total danger which really puts the mettle and the will of characters to the test. Especially when the players themselves are on the edge of their seats to find out the outcome.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Orcs. The big, green-skinned brutes which defy their own stereotype with a connection and respect to nature are simply one of the most awesome and potentially heroic of races. It's the heroes, like Saurfang, Broxigar, and the rest with their extreme feats of might and badassery that make orcs my number one race. That said, you can't beat the trolls in terms of charm, and their accents are the most fun things to type ever. Still, orcs.
I'm fond of rogues, though my character is a warrior, moreso in the way that they're played than anything else. The rogue I like the most is ones with intricate plans and traps, which can result in the sort of tense roleplay that I mentioned earlier. Just seeing if these clever, devious plans come together can be thrilling, to me. That, and the (stereo)typical rogue has some charm to me; the crafty rapscallion who believes that everyone owes them something and may or may not be out for number one. I find those to be fun characters.
What are your expectations of this server?:
Excellent roleplay (such as what I listed above), well-thought-out, interesting, and genuinely well-written (and played) characters, and a good, mature community of sensible, intelligent people.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
This is a hard one. As I mentioned earlier, these rules are all things that I wished for on the retail RP servers and beyond, and it's just refreshing to see them set in stone. Separating OOC from IC, humility, respect for the lore, and being able to type a coherent sentence are all things that I hold dear to decent RP. On the retail servers above all else, finding all of these things was nothing short of pure luck.
If I had to pick something, it'd be the role-playing section. It covers my most common gripes on other servers, particularly the "As Grakor puts it" bit.
Lastly, tell us a story! It can be short, it can be long; but most importantly, we want to see your work in action. Go!:
The clang of metal upon metal mingled with the shouts of combatants was Dorgrom's music. The body of a soldier of the Alliance was his canvas, the axe in his hands the brush, and the spilled blood his paint. His thick iron armor and rippling, powerful green muscles were his sculpture. Battles, wars, and conflicts were his passion. Dorgrom Thok'mal, soldier of the Horde, was living, breathing, eviscerating proof of Eitrigg's words to Tirion Fordring: All orcs are warriors. His idols, Grom Hellscream and Varok Saurfang, had one thing in common, as far as Dorgrom was concerned; they were both incredibly mighty warriors, having earned their place in the hearts and minds of their people due to their prowess in battle. Dorgrom did not know if he would ever reach that level of notoriety, or even that degree of might, and he did not care. Striving to be like another, greater warrior was foolish, to him. It was more noble to be of one's own might and one's own prowess, and if one was to die in the process, it meant only that they had not the strength to survive longer.
Dorgrom disliked reliance on luck, but did admit that luck could bring good things. One of these things was a conflict in Ashenvale that Dorgrom happened by on his way to the Zoram'gar outpost. In what seemed like an instant, Dorgrom was off of the path and bounding toward the fray. The approaching sound of battle was always one of Dorgrom's favorite parts, clashing noises combined with war-cries and yells washed over the orc like a wave as he got closer, his armor, too, clattering loudly as he shoved and bashed his way into the battle, his plated fist meeting the fragile face of a night elven sentinel as his axe went down into the foot of another, barely missing the arm of one of his comrades. His muscles tensed in preparation for an opportunistic blow as he applied both of his arms to lodging his axe from the foot of the unfortunate night elf in hopes of transplanting it somewhere more useful, such as their skull.
An arrow lodged itself near his elbow, the area around his arm exposed to allow more freedom of movement, and thus more range for his axe's swing. Dorgrom roared, rearing his axe up and swinging it in a wide arc toward the general direction of his foes, relieving an elf of its organs near the end of his swing. Dorgrom was not significantly mightier than these elves or his comrades, and did not see himself (nor was he) a driving force in their victory, but he was part of a much larger, greener whole, and would not fail to do his part simply because it wasn't a large one.
As the battle raged, Dorgrom noticed a disturbance near the other end of the fight. The orcs were slowly but inevitably winning, and Dorgrom's addition had tipped the numbers just slightly in their favor, and something else seemed to have caught the sentinels unawares. The assault from the back was a risky tactic which an unsubtle brute like Dorgrom could never have achieved, but it seemed as though someone of a more subtle nature had decided it fit to do so. The flashes of bright blue skin and lanky arms he had managed to catch between the swinging blades, arms, and bodies hinted toward a troll, one who was whirling about with his two daggers and generally forcing the elves to divide their attention between the orcs and the assassin. Dorgrom took the distraction as an opportunity to slam through the ever-thinning ranks, loosing another, more proper whirlwind of steel against the now disarrayed elves. Some of the other orcs had thought similarly to Dorgrom, and were tearing at their foes as the green tide brutally overtook them, effectively stomping them beneath their boots. The day was theirs.
Dorgrom was more than willing to return with the troop back to Splintertree post for a drink and a good report back to the commander. Plus, the troll was a mess of wounds and Dorgrom had plenty of his own scars, as well as still needing the now blood-caked arrow out of his arm. Had he been slightly less fortunate, that arrow might've hit something important, and he wouldn't have been able to pull off what he did. Luck truly did bring good things, sometimes. Today, luck was with him. Tomorrow, it might decide that a bullet gets lodged in his tendon and force him to use a shorter axe.
It was about an hour later, when most of the troop had gone back to their posts or to rest, when the post's small inn had only two patrons left; the recently-healed troll and the now de-arrowed warrior, both sitting on the floor against the far wall with drinks in hand, both utterly silent. Dorgrom took another gulp of his mead before deciding to start conversation. Something had been bothering him about the troll and those of his trade since that fight, anyway. “Say, rogue,†Dorgrom murmured. The troll looked over, “Yeah? ‘Cha need, big guy?†he asked, taking a swig of port. “You types rely a lot on being lucky, don't you?†Dorgrom inquired. “Yeah, we do,†the troll said, wiping the rest of the port from his mouth. “How d'you do it? You know, get so lucky?†The troll thought about this a moment, taking another swig in hopes of the drink containing some of the answer, and then finally speaking, “Well, we ain't lucky all de time. Yah saw me afta' dat fight, din't yah? I was a wreck, mon.†Dorgrom eyed the troll quizzically, “If you're not lucky all the time, how can you work with it like you do? I mean, if you're lucky, you are. But if you're not, you're not. It just ain't reliable.†The troll chuckled, “Don't be so stiff about it, mon. You gotta work with whatever be in front of yah, dat's da first thing a rogue learns. If yah get lucky, work wit' dat. If yah don't, work around it.â€Â
Dorgrom nodded, returning his attention to his drink. It was an interesting philosophy, but he never liked gambling. Taking the straightforward path reduced the risk of something going wrong, and that's how he liked it. Nothing fancy or flashy was needed, nor was it wanted. Tomorrow, he'd go to Zoram'gar and disembowel some naga. If he was lucky, Vykrul wouldn't land on the shore and decide to trample him.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Well, as you can guess, I like to roleplay. Intrigue, and seeing how two character types can bounce off of each other, are two things I love experiencing and experimenting with, but there's no roleplay I'm not interested in. I'm also a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to actual gameplay, able to tank, DPS, or heal (class and spec permitting) to a passable degree, and like seeing new (and hopefully spectacular) things ingame. I'm occasionally irresponsible with money, a vice that has followed me into (or followed from) real life.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
United States of America (New York, specifically), English (which is, embarrassingly, my only language. I do wish to learn Swedish or German at some point, though.)
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I floated through a few MMORPGs at the time and, through the recommendations of a friend or two, decided to try World of Warcraft. I found that, not only did it have RP-centric servers (something I had not previously experienced,) but was also one of the better MMOs I had played in terms of gameplay. As well as having its own lore and excellent soundtrack, I was hooked.
What made you seek our server over others?:
The fact that you have an application and, by extension, quality control. This server looks to have an integrity that I haven't seen in the other RP-centric private servers I've been on. The rules are concrete, intricate, and are those I wholeheartedly support, and this community looks intensely promising.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
A little bit of everything. Relaxing tavern roleplay or simple meetings can develop characters and show how they react to certain things, whereas battles are not only exciting, but can reveal a character's style of fighting, their willingness to fight, and their strength of muscle and will. If I like anything the most, it's those covert, tense situations like infiltration or total danger which really puts the mettle and the will of characters to the test. Especially when the players themselves are on the edge of their seats to find out the outcome.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Orcs. The big, green-skinned brutes which defy their own stereotype with a connection and respect to nature are simply one of the most awesome and potentially heroic of races. It's the heroes, like Saurfang, Broxigar, and the rest with their extreme feats of might and badassery that make orcs my number one race. That said, you can't beat the trolls in terms of charm, and their accents are the most fun things to type ever. Still, orcs.
I'm fond of rogues, though my character is a warrior, moreso in the way that they're played than anything else. The rogue I like the most is ones with intricate plans and traps, which can result in the sort of tense roleplay that I mentioned earlier. Just seeing if these clever, devious plans come together can be thrilling, to me. That, and the (stereo)typical rogue has some charm to me; the crafty rapscallion who believes that everyone owes them something and may or may not be out for number one. I find those to be fun characters.
What are your expectations of this server?:
Excellent roleplay (such as what I listed above), well-thought-out, interesting, and genuinely well-written (and played) characters, and a good, mature community of sensible, intelligent people.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
This is a hard one. As I mentioned earlier, these rules are all things that I wished for on the retail RP servers and beyond, and it's just refreshing to see them set in stone. Separating OOC from IC, humility, respect for the lore, and being able to type a coherent sentence are all things that I hold dear to decent RP. On the retail servers above all else, finding all of these things was nothing short of pure luck.
If I had to pick something, it'd be the role-playing section. It covers my most common gripes on other servers, particularly the "As Grakor puts it" bit.
Lastly, tell us a story! It can be short, it can be long; but most importantly, we want to see your work in action. Go!:
The clang of metal upon metal mingled with the shouts of combatants was Dorgrom's music. The body of a soldier of the Alliance was his canvas, the axe in his hands the brush, and the spilled blood his paint. His thick iron armor and rippling, powerful green muscles were his sculpture. Battles, wars, and conflicts were his passion. Dorgrom Thok'mal, soldier of the Horde, was living, breathing, eviscerating proof of Eitrigg's words to Tirion Fordring: All orcs are warriors. His idols, Grom Hellscream and Varok Saurfang, had one thing in common, as far as Dorgrom was concerned; they were both incredibly mighty warriors, having earned their place in the hearts and minds of their people due to their prowess in battle. Dorgrom did not know if he would ever reach that level of notoriety, or even that degree of might, and he did not care. Striving to be like another, greater warrior was foolish, to him. It was more noble to be of one's own might and one's own prowess, and if one was to die in the process, it meant only that they had not the strength to survive longer.
Dorgrom disliked reliance on luck, but did admit that luck could bring good things. One of these things was a conflict in Ashenvale that Dorgrom happened by on his way to the Zoram'gar outpost. In what seemed like an instant, Dorgrom was off of the path and bounding toward the fray. The approaching sound of battle was always one of Dorgrom's favorite parts, clashing noises combined with war-cries and yells washed over the orc like a wave as he got closer, his armor, too, clattering loudly as he shoved and bashed his way into the battle, his plated fist meeting the fragile face of a night elven sentinel as his axe went down into the foot of another, barely missing the arm of one of his comrades. His muscles tensed in preparation for an opportunistic blow as he applied both of his arms to lodging his axe from the foot of the unfortunate night elf in hopes of transplanting it somewhere more useful, such as their skull.
An arrow lodged itself near his elbow, the area around his arm exposed to allow more freedom of movement, and thus more range for his axe's swing. Dorgrom roared, rearing his axe up and swinging it in a wide arc toward the general direction of his foes, relieving an elf of its organs near the end of his swing. Dorgrom was not significantly mightier than these elves or his comrades, and did not see himself (nor was he) a driving force in their victory, but he was part of a much larger, greener whole, and would not fail to do his part simply because it wasn't a large one.
As the battle raged, Dorgrom noticed a disturbance near the other end of the fight. The orcs were slowly but inevitably winning, and Dorgrom's addition had tipped the numbers just slightly in their favor, and something else seemed to have caught the sentinels unawares. The assault from the back was a risky tactic which an unsubtle brute like Dorgrom could never have achieved, but it seemed as though someone of a more subtle nature had decided it fit to do so. The flashes of bright blue skin and lanky arms he had managed to catch between the swinging blades, arms, and bodies hinted toward a troll, one who was whirling about with his two daggers and generally forcing the elves to divide their attention between the orcs and the assassin. Dorgrom took the distraction as an opportunity to slam through the ever-thinning ranks, loosing another, more proper whirlwind of steel against the now disarrayed elves. Some of the other orcs had thought similarly to Dorgrom, and were tearing at their foes as the green tide brutally overtook them, effectively stomping them beneath their boots. The day was theirs.
Dorgrom was more than willing to return with the troop back to Splintertree post for a drink and a good report back to the commander. Plus, the troll was a mess of wounds and Dorgrom had plenty of his own scars, as well as still needing the now blood-caked arrow out of his arm. Had he been slightly less fortunate, that arrow might've hit something important, and he wouldn't have been able to pull off what he did. Luck truly did bring good things, sometimes. Today, luck was with him. Tomorrow, it might decide that a bullet gets lodged in his tendon and force him to use a shorter axe.
It was about an hour later, when most of the troop had gone back to their posts or to rest, when the post's small inn had only two patrons left; the recently-healed troll and the now de-arrowed warrior, both sitting on the floor against the far wall with drinks in hand, both utterly silent. Dorgrom took another gulp of his mead before deciding to start conversation. Something had been bothering him about the troll and those of his trade since that fight, anyway. “Say, rogue,†Dorgrom murmured. The troll looked over, “Yeah? ‘Cha need, big guy?†he asked, taking a swig of port. “You types rely a lot on being lucky, don't you?†Dorgrom inquired. “Yeah, we do,†the troll said, wiping the rest of the port from his mouth. “How d'you do it? You know, get so lucky?†The troll thought about this a moment, taking another swig in hopes of the drink containing some of the answer, and then finally speaking, “Well, we ain't lucky all de time. Yah saw me afta' dat fight, din't yah? I was a wreck, mon.†Dorgrom eyed the troll quizzically, “If you're not lucky all the time, how can you work with it like you do? I mean, if you're lucky, you are. But if you're not, you're not. It just ain't reliable.†The troll chuckled, “Don't be so stiff about it, mon. You gotta work with whatever be in front of yah, dat's da first thing a rogue learns. If yah get lucky, work wit' dat. If yah don't, work around it.â€Â
Dorgrom nodded, returning his attention to his drink. It was an interesting philosophy, but he never liked gambling. Taking the straightforward path reduced the risk of something going wrong, and that's how he liked it. Nothing fancy or flashy was needed, nor was it wanted. Tomorrow, he'd go to Zoram'gar and disembowel some naga. If he was lucky, Vykrul wouldn't land on the shore and decide to trample him.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?: