08-28-2011, 08:38 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
For most of my time on official WoW servers, I played on PvP realms. I participated in guild raids and helped people out. I tried rolling on an RP server, only to find no RP (what gives?). So, I know how to play the game. I know the lore. I just don't have too much experience with RP, but I would love to get some.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I'm from the US and my primary language is English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I've been playing Warcraft since one of my friends introduced me to Warcraft 2.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
Well, I've been reading Lord of the Rings again and it gives me an extreme urge to do some RPing with people who want to RP. Also, I found you guys through Google. First site to come up.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I really like meeting and getting to know people in taverns.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I'm partial to trolls and night elves. Maybe it's the ears. Maybe it's the lore. My favorite class is probably Rogue. I like being the street smart city guy.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I just expect to see less OMG H4X0RZZ and more RP.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
I like the rule about spelling and language. Is it really hard to type out you instead of u?
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!:
“Who’s on the list today, Mike?” Robert Gallagher asked as he switched his cell-phone from his left hand to his right hand. Robert had just arrived at his first stop for the day, a pet shop on 1st Street. He needed to buy special feed for Jeremy, his pet fish.
“A woman named Grace Ward and her son, Jack,” was Mike’s reply. Michael Carrera was fresh out of college and worked as Robert’s secretary.
“What’s the problem?” Robert walked up to the counter and was recognized by the owner, who gave him the fish food.
“She says that he thinks he can see the future, sir.”
“Sounds like some kind of Schizoid Personality Disorder.” Robert paid for the food and headed back to his car. “What time are they going to be here? I’m almost there.”
“Ten. They’re coming up from Seattle.”
“Oh. Alright.” Robert worked as a psychologist in Langley, about an hour north of Seattle. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye.”
***
By nine thirty, Robert was sitting in his comfortable, 7th Street office. He reclined in his large, leather desk chair and idly watched Jeremy swim slow laps around his tank. Jeremy’s circles always somehow soothed Robert.
His office was tidy. Every book was neatly tucked into a shelf. The frames of the generic office photos on the tan walls were flawlessly parallel to the ground. The lamp in the corner opposite the window emitted only a soft glow; Robert preferred natural light to the lamp. Opposite Robert, there were two dark red arm chairs, each looking very inviting. Only a calendar and a notebook sat on the desk in front of Robert.
Robert was somewhere in his early thirties and dressed to match his office. His short, dark hair was combed and gelled to sit perfectly parted on his head. His beard and moustache were both cut short. His outfit of choice was a light gray suit accompanied by a thin, black tie and shiny, black shoes.
“They’re here.” Michael was poking his head into Robert’s office.
“Send them right in,” Robert replied, snapping out of his window-induced trance.
Michael motioned for the pair to enter the office. Robert stood as the woman and her son shuffled in. She couldn’t have been much older than Robert and wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Her brown hair was tied up in a loose bun behind her head. She had smart glasses and a nervous posture. Her son was must have been about five or six years old and appeared slightly more comfortable in the office. His light brown hair was kept long and he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The strangest thing about the boy, though, was that he was clutching a bright blue radio tightly to his chest.
“Grace Ward,” the woman introduced herself and offered her hand to Robert.
“Robert Gallagher, how can I help you?” Robert took her hand and shook it.
“Well, this is my son, Jack,” Grace began as the trio sat down. “He’s very attached to that radio.”
“This radio is my favorite,” Jack said plainly.
“What kind of music do you like to listen to, Jack?” Robert asked.
“I like to listen to the voices.”
“You like talk radio?”
“No, the ones that tell me about the future,” Jack looked confused by Robert’s question.
“Can you show me them, please?” Robert asked, motioning towards the radio.
Jack squirmhed a bit in his chair and giggled, as many children do when they try to deflect questions.
“He doesn’t turn on the radio around me anymore. Probably because he knows I don’t like it very much that he thinks he can see the future.” Grace said.
“If your mom leaves, will you show me the voices, please?” Robert whispered into Jack’s ear.
“Yeah.” Jack responded as if it were a secret of life and death importance.
“We’re going to have to ask you to leave, Miss Ward. Jack and I have important business to discuss,” Robert said with mock importance.
“Of course, doctor,” Grace replied, matching his tone.
As soon as his mother was out of the room, Jack turned the dials of the radio, causing it to come to life. Initially, music played from the radio, but Jack immediately changed the station. The radio blared static and Jack tilted his head, as if listening intently. Robert watched as Jack listened and furled his brow for several minutes. Finally, Jack appeared content with whatever message the voices he heard were trying to convey. Jack’s gaze rested on Jeremy.
“Do you like him? His name is Jeremy. I’ve had him since I was fifteen.”
“No, not really. They told me that he’s going to die later, anyway,” he answered quickly, without hesitation.
“He’s an Eastern Redtail. They’re supposed to live for many years and I think he’s pretty healthy,” Robert said calmly.
“He’s not,” said Jack, sounding slightly angry that Robert would question the voices and their judgment.
“Alright,” he decided to change the subject. “Well, anything else?”
“They are quiet now. But, they don’t like you a lot.”
“Tell them that I’m sorry if I offended them, please.”
Robert spent about forty-five more minutes with Jack and could only come up with one realistic conclusion. He decided to go tell Grace.
Robert lead Jack out the door and back into the waiting room where Michael was sitting at a desk and Grace was waiting. Jack ran over to a puzzle that was on the ground and began fitting pieces together.
“I think your son simply has an imaginary friend,” Robert told Grace, watching Jack fumble with tiny puzzle pieces. “Is he usually correct in his predictions?”
“He is usually quite accurate in his predictions. He knew when his teacher was going to be out of school sick and he always knows where my keys are when I lose them.”
“Maybe his teacher was sneezing the day before and maybe he hid your keys himself.”
“I guess those are both possible. Did he predict anything in your office? Jack, put your shoes back on, we’re going to leave soon.”
“He just told me that my Jeremy, my fish, was going to die, but I’ve had him for about fifteen years. He’s an Eastern Redtail. They’re supposed to live to be fifty or sixty. It doesn’t seem likely,” Robert said as he led Grace and Jack to the front door.
“Strange. I just get nervous when his predictions become so negative like that. I’ll give you a call if it continues for much longer.”
“Sounds good. Hopefully he will grow out of the phase and we won’t have to meet again.”
Robert gasped as he returned to his office and Jeremy was floating belly up in his tank.
***
Two weeks later, Robert received a call from a distressed Grace. She said that Jack’s predictions had steadily become more and more negative since their last meeting. She said she was becoming very worried about Jack’s mental state. She didn’t want him to be permanently scarred by these voices. Grace requested to have an appointment later that day. Robert agreed and waited in his office for Grace and Jack to arrive.
About an hour after making the appointment, Grace and Jack walked through the office door. Robert greeted them with a smile but neither Grace nor Jack seemed very happy to see the psychologist.
“Jack is starting to scare me with his predictions. Please, you need to talk him out of having this imaginary friend,” Grace told Robert, quickly.
“He and I will talk then. Grace, if you’ll excuse us, please,” Robert replied with increased politeness.
Grace silently exited the room. Jack looked uneasy in his chair across from Robert.
“Why won’t you look at me, Jack? What’s bothering you, bud?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“Says who?” asked Robert, sounding concerned.
“Them,” replied Jack in a quivering whisper.
“Why?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you what they told me.” His eyes began to tear up.
“I can help you, bud, that’s what I’m here for. You can tell me what they say.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“They said th- that someone,” Jack stuttered, “is going to do something bad in my house.”
“What is going to happen? Is someone going to get hurt?” Robert inquired calmly.
Jack sniffled and let out a small cry.
“Do they know when, buddy?” Robed asked encouragingly.
“Tonight!” Jack yelled. He couldn’t hold in his tears any longer and began crying loudly.
Grace had been listening from outside the door and heard Jack’s cries. She burst in the door, angrily. “You’re encouraging him, aren’t you? I came here to help him. Not encourage insanity. Come now, Jack.”
And they were gone.
***
Later, Robert and Michael were eating lunch together. Robert couldn’t get Jack and Grace out of his mind.
“Hey, Mike?” Robert said slowly, “What if Jack is correct?”
“He can’t honestly see the future,” Michael replied. “You’d have to be crazy to believe that.”
“Maybe he’s right, though. What if he is correct and we don’t do anything about it? Wouldn’t it be our fault?”
“You don’t need to get- ”
“I have their address right here! I’m going to drive down there and find out for myself what’s going on.”
“Uh, Robert?”
“Bye, Michael.”
***
It was about ten when Robert arrived at the Ward residence. There was a white one-car tent detached from the house that acted as a garage. The main house itself was also white and was rather small. There was a large window facing the street on the front of the house, but the blinds were closed and Robert could not see inside. From what Robert could see, all lights inside the house were turned off. Two lamps attached to the front of the house provided a faint light that stretched down most of the length of the drive way. Ordinarily, this typical one-floor suburban dwelling would be entirely unthreatening. But, in the circumstances, even a small shadow appears untrustworthy and dangerous, and every small noise a threat.
Why am I parked across the street from one of my patient’s houses as if I was in some cheesy detective movie? Robert wondered. He had just assured himself that nothing at all would happen and that he would be able to return home soon when he spotted something. Robert’s heart skipped a beat. Someone was lurking on the edge of the shadow of the garage. The shadowy figure appeared to be surveying the house. Suddenly, it occurred to Robert that maybe it wasn’t Grace that would be doing the damage, but an intruder.
Robert watched as the dangerous individual crept up to the back of the house slowly and quietly as to not wake the inhabitants. Robert wondered to himself what the mysterious figure could want with the Wards and, without a second thought, decided to take justice into his own hands. Robert silently got out of his car and crept up to the garage. He quickly looked around. He needed something that he could use to defend himself from the stranger. He found a hammer. It was light, but sturdy. Just what he wanted.
As he was creeping up the back porch, nothing but the boy’s prediction and the thumping of his own heart filled Robert’s head. How Jack could heard voices where there was only jumbles of static, Robert did not know.
Robert’s heart was in his throat: Lub-dub.
All he knew was that Jack was often correct and that someone with malicious intentions was entering their house. Robert found that the back door was open.
Lub-dub.
The stranger did not lock it behind him. There’s your mistake, Robert thought, triumphantly.
Lub-dub.
His mind was constantly racing and his eyes were constantly searching the shadows cloaking everything around him.
Lub-dub.
Robert opened the back door slowly, preparing himself to be brought face to face with the danger lurking inside, but found nothing but shadows.
Lub-dub.
Upon entering the house, Robert found himself in a very dark living room. Robert swiveled his head, frantically surveying the room for some clue as to which direction the stranger had gone. Along one wall of the room there was a couch with a coffee table sitting directly in front of it. Opposite that, there was a TV. Everything seemed natural, but Robert knew that the room held a dangerous intruder. He saw the intruder with his own eyes.
Lub-dub.
Just then, Robert spotted another flaw. A door directly across the dark room from him was ajar. Surely the intruder went through there.
Lub-dub.
Robert slowly crept across the room until the was just in front of him. He carefully, quietly pushed the door open.
Lub-dub.
There he was. At the end of the hallway, staring into a dark room, a cloaked figure stood.
Lub-dub.
Robert’s pulse rose.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Robert moved swiftly down the hallway, simultaneously raising the broom handle over his head.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Those moments seemed to last an eternity. He watched triumphantly as the broom came down on the intruder’s skull.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
He had done it. Robert stooped down and his heart stopped.
Grace.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
When's lunch?
For most of my time on official WoW servers, I played on PvP realms. I participated in guild raids and helped people out. I tried rolling on an RP server, only to find no RP (what gives?). So, I know how to play the game. I know the lore. I just don't have too much experience with RP, but I would love to get some.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I'm from the US and my primary language is English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I've been playing Warcraft since one of my friends introduced me to Warcraft 2.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
Well, I've been reading Lord of the Rings again and it gives me an extreme urge to do some RPing with people who want to RP. Also, I found you guys through Google. First site to come up.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I really like meeting and getting to know people in taverns.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I'm partial to trolls and night elves. Maybe it's the ears. Maybe it's the lore. My favorite class is probably Rogue. I like being the street smart city guy.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I just expect to see less OMG H4X0RZZ and more RP.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
I like the rule about spelling and language. Is it really hard to type out you instead of u?
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!:
“Who’s on the list today, Mike?” Robert Gallagher asked as he switched his cell-phone from his left hand to his right hand. Robert had just arrived at his first stop for the day, a pet shop on 1st Street. He needed to buy special feed for Jeremy, his pet fish.
“A woman named Grace Ward and her son, Jack,” was Mike’s reply. Michael Carrera was fresh out of college and worked as Robert’s secretary.
“What’s the problem?” Robert walked up to the counter and was recognized by the owner, who gave him the fish food.
“She says that he thinks he can see the future, sir.”
“Sounds like some kind of Schizoid Personality Disorder.” Robert paid for the food and headed back to his car. “What time are they going to be here? I’m almost there.”
“Ten. They’re coming up from Seattle.”
“Oh. Alright.” Robert worked as a psychologist in Langley, about an hour north of Seattle. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye.”
***
By nine thirty, Robert was sitting in his comfortable, 7th Street office. He reclined in his large, leather desk chair and idly watched Jeremy swim slow laps around his tank. Jeremy’s circles always somehow soothed Robert.
His office was tidy. Every book was neatly tucked into a shelf. The frames of the generic office photos on the tan walls were flawlessly parallel to the ground. The lamp in the corner opposite the window emitted only a soft glow; Robert preferred natural light to the lamp. Opposite Robert, there were two dark red arm chairs, each looking very inviting. Only a calendar and a notebook sat on the desk in front of Robert.
Robert was somewhere in his early thirties and dressed to match his office. His short, dark hair was combed and gelled to sit perfectly parted on his head. His beard and moustache were both cut short. His outfit of choice was a light gray suit accompanied by a thin, black tie and shiny, black shoes.
“They’re here.” Michael was poking his head into Robert’s office.
“Send them right in,” Robert replied, snapping out of his window-induced trance.
Michael motioned for the pair to enter the office. Robert stood as the woman and her son shuffled in. She couldn’t have been much older than Robert and wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Her brown hair was tied up in a loose bun behind her head. She had smart glasses and a nervous posture. Her son was must have been about five or six years old and appeared slightly more comfortable in the office. His light brown hair was kept long and he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The strangest thing about the boy, though, was that he was clutching a bright blue radio tightly to his chest.
“Grace Ward,” the woman introduced herself and offered her hand to Robert.
“Robert Gallagher, how can I help you?” Robert took her hand and shook it.
“Well, this is my son, Jack,” Grace began as the trio sat down. “He’s very attached to that radio.”
“This radio is my favorite,” Jack said plainly.
“What kind of music do you like to listen to, Jack?” Robert asked.
“I like to listen to the voices.”
“You like talk radio?”
“No, the ones that tell me about the future,” Jack looked confused by Robert’s question.
“Can you show me them, please?” Robert asked, motioning towards the radio.
Jack squirmhed a bit in his chair and giggled, as many children do when they try to deflect questions.
“He doesn’t turn on the radio around me anymore. Probably because he knows I don’t like it very much that he thinks he can see the future.” Grace said.
“If your mom leaves, will you show me the voices, please?” Robert whispered into Jack’s ear.
“Yeah.” Jack responded as if it were a secret of life and death importance.
“We’re going to have to ask you to leave, Miss Ward. Jack and I have important business to discuss,” Robert said with mock importance.
“Of course, doctor,” Grace replied, matching his tone.
As soon as his mother was out of the room, Jack turned the dials of the radio, causing it to come to life. Initially, music played from the radio, but Jack immediately changed the station. The radio blared static and Jack tilted his head, as if listening intently. Robert watched as Jack listened and furled his brow for several minutes. Finally, Jack appeared content with whatever message the voices he heard were trying to convey. Jack’s gaze rested on Jeremy.
“Do you like him? His name is Jeremy. I’ve had him since I was fifteen.”
“No, not really. They told me that he’s going to die later, anyway,” he answered quickly, without hesitation.
“He’s an Eastern Redtail. They’re supposed to live for many years and I think he’s pretty healthy,” Robert said calmly.
“He’s not,” said Jack, sounding slightly angry that Robert would question the voices and their judgment.
“Alright,” he decided to change the subject. “Well, anything else?”
“They are quiet now. But, they don’t like you a lot.”
“Tell them that I’m sorry if I offended them, please.”
Robert spent about forty-five more minutes with Jack and could only come up with one realistic conclusion. He decided to go tell Grace.
Robert lead Jack out the door and back into the waiting room where Michael was sitting at a desk and Grace was waiting. Jack ran over to a puzzle that was on the ground and began fitting pieces together.
“I think your son simply has an imaginary friend,” Robert told Grace, watching Jack fumble with tiny puzzle pieces. “Is he usually correct in his predictions?”
“He is usually quite accurate in his predictions. He knew when his teacher was going to be out of school sick and he always knows where my keys are when I lose them.”
“Maybe his teacher was sneezing the day before and maybe he hid your keys himself.”
“I guess those are both possible. Did he predict anything in your office? Jack, put your shoes back on, we’re going to leave soon.”
“He just told me that my Jeremy, my fish, was going to die, but I’ve had him for about fifteen years. He’s an Eastern Redtail. They’re supposed to live to be fifty or sixty. It doesn’t seem likely,” Robert said as he led Grace and Jack to the front door.
“Strange. I just get nervous when his predictions become so negative like that. I’ll give you a call if it continues for much longer.”
“Sounds good. Hopefully he will grow out of the phase and we won’t have to meet again.”
Robert gasped as he returned to his office and Jeremy was floating belly up in his tank.
***
Two weeks later, Robert received a call from a distressed Grace. She said that Jack’s predictions had steadily become more and more negative since their last meeting. She said she was becoming very worried about Jack’s mental state. She didn’t want him to be permanently scarred by these voices. Grace requested to have an appointment later that day. Robert agreed and waited in his office for Grace and Jack to arrive.
About an hour after making the appointment, Grace and Jack walked through the office door. Robert greeted them with a smile but neither Grace nor Jack seemed very happy to see the psychologist.
“Jack is starting to scare me with his predictions. Please, you need to talk him out of having this imaginary friend,” Grace told Robert, quickly.
“He and I will talk then. Grace, if you’ll excuse us, please,” Robert replied with increased politeness.
Grace silently exited the room. Jack looked uneasy in his chair across from Robert.
“Why won’t you look at me, Jack? What’s bothering you, bud?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“Says who?” asked Robert, sounding concerned.
“Them,” replied Jack in a quivering whisper.
“Why?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you what they told me.” His eyes began to tear up.
“I can help you, bud, that’s what I’m here for. You can tell me what they say.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“They said th- that someone,” Jack stuttered, “is going to do something bad in my house.”
“What is going to happen? Is someone going to get hurt?” Robert inquired calmly.
Jack sniffled and let out a small cry.
“Do they know when, buddy?” Robed asked encouragingly.
“Tonight!” Jack yelled. He couldn’t hold in his tears any longer and began crying loudly.
Grace had been listening from outside the door and heard Jack’s cries. She burst in the door, angrily. “You’re encouraging him, aren’t you? I came here to help him. Not encourage insanity. Come now, Jack.”
And they were gone.
***
Later, Robert and Michael were eating lunch together. Robert couldn’t get Jack and Grace out of his mind.
“Hey, Mike?” Robert said slowly, “What if Jack is correct?”
“He can’t honestly see the future,” Michael replied. “You’d have to be crazy to believe that.”
“Maybe he’s right, though. What if he is correct and we don’t do anything about it? Wouldn’t it be our fault?”
“You don’t need to get- ”
“I have their address right here! I’m going to drive down there and find out for myself what’s going on.”
“Uh, Robert?”
“Bye, Michael.”
***
It was about ten when Robert arrived at the Ward residence. There was a white one-car tent detached from the house that acted as a garage. The main house itself was also white and was rather small. There was a large window facing the street on the front of the house, but the blinds were closed and Robert could not see inside. From what Robert could see, all lights inside the house were turned off. Two lamps attached to the front of the house provided a faint light that stretched down most of the length of the drive way. Ordinarily, this typical one-floor suburban dwelling would be entirely unthreatening. But, in the circumstances, even a small shadow appears untrustworthy and dangerous, and every small noise a threat.
Why am I parked across the street from one of my patient’s houses as if I was in some cheesy detective movie? Robert wondered. He had just assured himself that nothing at all would happen and that he would be able to return home soon when he spotted something. Robert’s heart skipped a beat. Someone was lurking on the edge of the shadow of the garage. The shadowy figure appeared to be surveying the house. Suddenly, it occurred to Robert that maybe it wasn’t Grace that would be doing the damage, but an intruder.
Robert watched as the dangerous individual crept up to the back of the house slowly and quietly as to not wake the inhabitants. Robert wondered to himself what the mysterious figure could want with the Wards and, without a second thought, decided to take justice into his own hands. Robert silently got out of his car and crept up to the garage. He quickly looked around. He needed something that he could use to defend himself from the stranger. He found a hammer. It was light, but sturdy. Just what he wanted.
As he was creeping up the back porch, nothing but the boy’s prediction and the thumping of his own heart filled Robert’s head. How Jack could heard voices where there was only jumbles of static, Robert did not know.
Robert’s heart was in his throat: Lub-dub.
All he knew was that Jack was often correct and that someone with malicious intentions was entering their house. Robert found that the back door was open.
Lub-dub.
The stranger did not lock it behind him. There’s your mistake, Robert thought, triumphantly.
Lub-dub.
His mind was constantly racing and his eyes were constantly searching the shadows cloaking everything around him.
Lub-dub.
Robert opened the back door slowly, preparing himself to be brought face to face with the danger lurking inside, but found nothing but shadows.
Lub-dub.
Upon entering the house, Robert found himself in a very dark living room. Robert swiveled his head, frantically surveying the room for some clue as to which direction the stranger had gone. Along one wall of the room there was a couch with a coffee table sitting directly in front of it. Opposite that, there was a TV. Everything seemed natural, but Robert knew that the room held a dangerous intruder. He saw the intruder with his own eyes.
Lub-dub.
Just then, Robert spotted another flaw. A door directly across the dark room from him was ajar. Surely the intruder went through there.
Lub-dub.
Robert slowly crept across the room until the was just in front of him. He carefully, quietly pushed the door open.
Lub-dub.
There he was. At the end of the hallway, staring into a dark room, a cloaked figure stood.
Lub-dub.
Robert’s pulse rose.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Robert moved swiftly down the hallway, simultaneously raising the broom handle over his head.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Those moments seemed to last an eternity. He watched triumphantly as the broom came down on the intruder’s skull.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
He had done it. Robert stooped down and his heart stopped.
Grace.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
When's lunch?