04-28-2011, 12:35 AM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
I started roleplaying on WoW private servers, on the popular Echeloned Wow private server before it got shut down. During my 3-4 years on the server, I realized the immense joy withheld in roleplaying. Of course we all started off rough, but over the years I have been fine-tuning my ability and skill at roleplaying, but sadly, due to the shutdown of echeloned, I haven't been able to roleplay for a while, and want to get back in. I am a hardcore roleplayer, almost always in character, and I am please to boast my expansive creativity and imagination.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I am from the U.S.A, and my primary language in English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I got into WoW through my friends, who pestered and pestered me into finally trying a retail demo, and immediately got hooked. Soon afterwards, I was shown private servers, and the glory of roleplaying. Just as I had gotten hooked to retail, I had gotten hooked to roleplaying on private servers.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
I found this server by searching on google for private roleplaying servers. But, one of the few reasons I chose this server for is because, for one, it is still up and running, two, it seems popular, and three, you seem, well, not mentally-impaired.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I find myself to enjoy, quite frankfully, bar roleplays are one of my favorite. Let me notion one thing: NOT THE ERP-FILLED, IMMATURE DRUNKEN IDIOTS WHO JUST TRY AND GET LAID; I mean laid-back, calm, well-natured people who just want to socialize a tad bit. Furthermore, I also enjoy "crucible"-type roleplays, where two players are pitted against each other in pure /e fights. For some reason, it is twice as fun as any other action roleplay.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
My favored race and class combo is a Human Warrior, for I usually roleplay as a wandering mercenary searching for a lost love and a lost life. So, what other than a human warrior would be instantly thought of when these are listed? All the other races are either too care-free, too violent/harsh to love, or just not capable of being seen as the sort of creature who would venture great distances for such a personal goal.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect this server to be well-behaved for such an extensive preliminary-type test, and to be laid-back, and not total hard-asses.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Its a tie between three: repsect, maturity, and knowing when to quit.
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!:
I would like to clarify that this is not tied to WoW in any way, nor is it significant to anything at all tied to this server. It is simply a short story I wrote a while back. A few tidbits to keep in mind while reading: First off, I have an odd writing habit of using a ton of symbolism. Also, about the story, it is placed in the near-future, in the middle of a zombie-apocalypse. Enjoy.
Silence, for a word uttered is responded by death, answered by the horde devouring upon flesh my flesh. Killing, maiming, cannibalizing, ripping, tearing, chewing; an endless onslaught upon my innards. The crack in the closet door is my little spyglass to my room. The small peephole that allows me to conveniently peer upon the unmoving corpse of the one light, the match to my life, that is now burnt out, snapped in half, and thrown away. The grotesque munching of flesh floods my thoughts. I can no longer distinguish reality to the horrific mirages that jumble my sanity into a disorderly heap of propaganda, sold to me by my tall tale telling conscious. Malnourished, filthy, and suffering withdrawals from the painkillers, I am almost incapable of clenching onto what is left of my mind. Maybe I am completely lost already, maybe not, as said before: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING. Fix my gaze upon the slit in the door, and an eye hurriedly dives away from my view. A hand drops from the shadows of the petite, hampered cubbyhole, and yanks me into itself, whispering lies and conspiracies, shouting my faults and my mistakes. The hand motions in front of me, and points towards the corpse of my son.
Your fault….It is your fault….
His carcass rises from the floor, offering me a smug little smirk, laughing, pointing, lip syncing in perfect unison with the omniscient uttering of the shadows.
This must be fake….though it is my fault. It must be real.
I am no longer lounging in my closet; I am hurdling headfirst into the black hole that is my insanity. Though what if I am still in my closet? Or if I am that horrible beast feasting upon my son's corpse….no, I must be feasting with the other hound of hell, damnable monster. It must be a dream. I am simply asleep at the office again….slouched over on the desk. Any moment now, Stacey is going to throw a paper ball at my head, or Jeff is going to slug me on my shoulder. Is this what I am waiting on? Waiting upon another individual's intervention?
f**k. THAT. SHIT.
I'll punch my own damn shoulder!
….That hurt a lot more than expected…
I examine my hand, watching the faucet of blood pour down my knuckles. Bits of flesh wedged in between my fingers. The pain comes as abruptly as a minor gets an idea. My fists suddenly become possessed, and begin hurdling towards the ground, punching harder than I thought capable, slamming against the ground that has the texture of chunky applesauce. I am on top of the zombie, pinning it to the ground. The body of my son lies dead next to me, bleeding profusely. My fists continue their barrage, pulverizing the head of the beast into a mushy pulp. My fists proceed on cruise control, and I give a few glances to the room around me. The Glock I had filched from the police station is drenched in blood, and gore. It has no clip. I give my son's body one more look. Frozen, I cannot move. He is whole once more. An untouched, virgin body, breathing as if asleep. I salivate at the sight…an unconquerable quench for flesh overpowers me, and I lean in to please my sweet tooth. Sweet, succulent, juicy morsels of apples. That is what explodes into my mouth. I open my eyes, and I find myself in the living room. My hands peacefully wrapped around a red, delicious apple. I look up, and stare into the eyes of my son. He sits there, locked eyes with me. Worry fills his eyes.
“Is everything okay, Dad?â€Â
“Yeah…no worries.â€Â
He nods. Smiles.
I return the gesture.
“I love you, Dad.â€Â
“I love you, to-,â€Â
Blinking confusedly, the feast halts.
Eyes fix upon the closet.
Standing up, I open the door.
Eyes flood with hunger.
“I love you too, son.â€Â
Blood drops. Foots march along the path, propelled forward with determination.
I hear his laugh.
The mouth opens, teeth bare, the predator encloses upon his prey.
He smiles, blowing out the candles.
Arms wrap around me, a motherly embrace.
The shadows engulf. He is gone.
A blur of motion. Life is on fast forward. I am on the ground, the moon blocking the light. It hurdles towards me. A foot emerges, cutting through. A match relights. The wrestler climbs upon the ropes, and prepares to leap, willpower at its fullest. The fat man must eat. A graceful roll, the arrow misses its target. The soldier reloads, both energy and power. The crowd cries for an encore. Ace in the sleeve, the magician performs his show. Punch, left right. Exhausted, the man crumples to the ground. Boot meets skull. Skull meets compression. Bone meets breaking point. Fire fought with fire.
Visitors lose, 2-1.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I appreciate the existence of this system.
I started roleplaying on WoW private servers, on the popular Echeloned Wow private server before it got shut down. During my 3-4 years on the server, I realized the immense joy withheld in roleplaying. Of course we all started off rough, but over the years I have been fine-tuning my ability and skill at roleplaying, but sadly, due to the shutdown of echeloned, I haven't been able to roleplay for a while, and want to get back in. I am a hardcore roleplayer, almost always in character, and I am please to boast my expansive creativity and imagination.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I am from the U.S.A, and my primary language in English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I got into WoW through my friends, who pestered and pestered me into finally trying a retail demo, and immediately got hooked. Soon afterwards, I was shown private servers, and the glory of roleplaying. Just as I had gotten hooked to retail, I had gotten hooked to roleplaying on private servers.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
I found this server by searching on google for private roleplaying servers. But, one of the few reasons I chose this server for is because, for one, it is still up and running, two, it seems popular, and three, you seem, well, not mentally-impaired.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I find myself to enjoy, quite frankfully, bar roleplays are one of my favorite. Let me notion one thing: NOT THE ERP-FILLED, IMMATURE DRUNKEN IDIOTS WHO JUST TRY AND GET LAID; I mean laid-back, calm, well-natured people who just want to socialize a tad bit. Furthermore, I also enjoy "crucible"-type roleplays, where two players are pitted against each other in pure /e fights. For some reason, it is twice as fun as any other action roleplay.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
My favored race and class combo is a Human Warrior, for I usually roleplay as a wandering mercenary searching for a lost love and a lost life. So, what other than a human warrior would be instantly thought of when these are listed? All the other races are either too care-free, too violent/harsh to love, or just not capable of being seen as the sort of creature who would venture great distances for such a personal goal.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect this server to be well-behaved for such an extensive preliminary-type test, and to be laid-back, and not total hard-asses.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Its a tie between three: repsect, maturity, and knowing when to quit.
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!:
I would like to clarify that this is not tied to WoW in any way, nor is it significant to anything at all tied to this server. It is simply a short story I wrote a while back. A few tidbits to keep in mind while reading: First off, I have an odd writing habit of using a ton of symbolism. Also, about the story, it is placed in the near-future, in the middle of a zombie-apocalypse. Enjoy.
Silence, for a word uttered is responded by death, answered by the horde devouring upon flesh my flesh. Killing, maiming, cannibalizing, ripping, tearing, chewing; an endless onslaught upon my innards. The crack in the closet door is my little spyglass to my room. The small peephole that allows me to conveniently peer upon the unmoving corpse of the one light, the match to my life, that is now burnt out, snapped in half, and thrown away. The grotesque munching of flesh floods my thoughts. I can no longer distinguish reality to the horrific mirages that jumble my sanity into a disorderly heap of propaganda, sold to me by my tall tale telling conscious. Malnourished, filthy, and suffering withdrawals from the painkillers, I am almost incapable of clenching onto what is left of my mind. Maybe I am completely lost already, maybe not, as said before: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING. Fix my gaze upon the slit in the door, and an eye hurriedly dives away from my view. A hand drops from the shadows of the petite, hampered cubbyhole, and yanks me into itself, whispering lies and conspiracies, shouting my faults and my mistakes. The hand motions in front of me, and points towards the corpse of my son.
Your fault….It is your fault….
His carcass rises from the floor, offering me a smug little smirk, laughing, pointing, lip syncing in perfect unison with the omniscient uttering of the shadows.
This must be fake….though it is my fault. It must be real.
I am no longer lounging in my closet; I am hurdling headfirst into the black hole that is my insanity. Though what if I am still in my closet? Or if I am that horrible beast feasting upon my son's corpse….no, I must be feasting with the other hound of hell, damnable monster. It must be a dream. I am simply asleep at the office again….slouched over on the desk. Any moment now, Stacey is going to throw a paper ball at my head, or Jeff is going to slug me on my shoulder. Is this what I am waiting on? Waiting upon another individual's intervention?
f**k. THAT. SHIT.
I'll punch my own damn shoulder!
….That hurt a lot more than expected…
I examine my hand, watching the faucet of blood pour down my knuckles. Bits of flesh wedged in between my fingers. The pain comes as abruptly as a minor gets an idea. My fists suddenly become possessed, and begin hurdling towards the ground, punching harder than I thought capable, slamming against the ground that has the texture of chunky applesauce. I am on top of the zombie, pinning it to the ground. The body of my son lies dead next to me, bleeding profusely. My fists continue their barrage, pulverizing the head of the beast into a mushy pulp. My fists proceed on cruise control, and I give a few glances to the room around me. The Glock I had filched from the police station is drenched in blood, and gore. It has no clip. I give my son's body one more look. Frozen, I cannot move. He is whole once more. An untouched, virgin body, breathing as if asleep. I salivate at the sight…an unconquerable quench for flesh overpowers me, and I lean in to please my sweet tooth. Sweet, succulent, juicy morsels of apples. That is what explodes into my mouth. I open my eyes, and I find myself in the living room. My hands peacefully wrapped around a red, delicious apple. I look up, and stare into the eyes of my son. He sits there, locked eyes with me. Worry fills his eyes.
“Is everything okay, Dad?â€Â
“Yeah…no worries.â€Â
He nods. Smiles.
I return the gesture.
“I love you, Dad.â€Â
“I love you, to-,â€Â
Blinking confusedly, the feast halts.
Eyes fix upon the closet.
Standing up, I open the door.
Eyes flood with hunger.
“I love you too, son.â€Â
Blood drops. Foots march along the path, propelled forward with determination.
I hear his laugh.
The mouth opens, teeth bare, the predator encloses upon his prey.
He smiles, blowing out the candles.
Arms wrap around me, a motherly embrace.
The shadows engulf. He is gone.
A blur of motion. Life is on fast forward. I am on the ground, the moon blocking the light. It hurdles towards me. A foot emerges, cutting through. A match relights. The wrestler climbs upon the ropes, and prepares to leap, willpower at its fullest. The fat man must eat. A graceful roll, the arrow misses its target. The soldier reloads, both energy and power. The crowd cries for an encore. Ace in the sleeve, the magician performs his show. Punch, left right. Exhausted, the man crumples to the ground. Boot meets skull. Skull meets compression. Bone meets breaking point. Fire fought with fire.
Visitors lose, 2-1.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I appreciate the existence of this system.