09-04-2009, 11:19 AM
Now, if my memory is anything to go by and still loyal to me, while perusing the general guidelines for making an introductory post I stumbled upon the sage wisdom of ‘treating the post like one would an interview'. Now I am a very literal person and I see no reason why I shouldn't take another's advice to a painful and literal degree.
Much Ado About An Interview
A Morality Play In One Overly Long Part
Myself: Excuse me, but am I in the right place?
Interviewer: Ms. Rosecrucian, I presume?
Myself: Please, call me Mistress Rosecrucian Von Everheart the third of Somalia.
Interviewer: Ah…*clears throat* Yes, alright then…So, you'd like to join this community, correct?
Myself: Yes, I would.
Interviewer: Tell us about yourself. What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
Myself: Jeez…you really start off with the second degree, don't you? Ah…well, I like to think of myself as easy going and pleasant to be around. I'm calm, hard to anger and I take what I enjoy seriously. I would be the first to admit I'm a bit odd in my own special ways but I like to think that only contributes to my general attrait.
Interviewer: Was that French? Do you live in France?
Myself: Heavens no! Too many baguettes and not enough hamburgers. No, I just enjoy peppering my sentences with commonly known foreign words, such as Si and Nein. It gives me a pompous air which I enjoy, don't you agree, mon amour?
Interviewer: What is your country of origin?
Myself: American, born and raised. The east coast, to be more specific.
Interviewer: I hear it's lovely there this time of year.
Myself: It is if you are a mentally handicapped polar bear.
Interviewer: Anyway; How did you get into World of Warcraft and what made you pick our server out of all others?
Myself: Well, I've flirted with Warcraft on and off for a while, plucking up ten day trials here and sponging off friends' accounts there. I only started playing it religiously about four months ago when a friend of mine joined up and asked me if I'd like to give it a whirl with her. And the server? I've role-played religiously for over twelve years now. I've always enjoyed pluming the depths of my own creative wells. It's only common sense that I would combine my two passions of mindless repetitive gaming and persona playing into one, glorious package. And since you're the only RP server around…
Interviewer: What kind of Role-Play do you enjoy?
Myself: The fun kind.
Interviewer: …
Myself: I Role-Play for my pleasure. And my moods are fickle sometimes. At one time, I will enjoy a refreshingly deep and intellectual discourse with my guild mates in a dusky tavern on the very reasoning behind the war and the reasons we fight and die on foreign shores against an enemy that is as human –or humanoid- as anyone. And in the next instance, I enjoy being a particularly sadistic and wonderfully inept mad scientist with a pension for spouting humorous one-liners and somewhat off-kilter clichés. I am a serious role-player; so much so that I can poke fun at myself.
Interviewer: We like to think that we are a serious role-playing community.
Myself: And if you give me entrance, I promise that I will tone down my insanity and keep my antics firmly grounded in the realm of reality.
Interviewer: What are your favorite races and classes?
Myself: I've played every race and every class. Honestly, I don't have a single favorite. But, under duress…I'd have to say I enjoy Blood Elves, Undead, Humans and Draenei the most. And I usually favor magical classes such as Warlock and Mages, though I have been known to enjoy an odd Death Knight or two.
Interviewer: What are your expectations of the server?
Myself: A pleasant and friendly Role-playing community with an honest and engaging group who isn't afraid of letting someone new into their fold. My friend says that I should look elsewhere, but it never hurts to give every option a try.
Interviewer: Oh? What did your friend say?
Myself: That this server and its members were horrendously cliquish and that the rules stifled the pleasure of playing. But she tends to over-dramatize things for the sake of making a point. And anyway, I don't want to go off her opinion entirely. One needs to experience something first hand to draw conclusions for themselves.
Interviewer: Speaking of rules, what are your thoughts on them? Which ones do you enjoy?
Myself: The Iron Triangle of Role-Playing: Humility, Respect and Maturity. Without one the entire façade falters and the fun is quick to disperse.
Interviewer: Now do you happen to have a sampling of your writing style?
Myself: Why yes…Yes I actually do. Here…let me dredge it up for you…I put it in my bag somewhere.
“What do you think, Doctor?â€Â
“I don't have the time to think very much now, Sir.â€Â
Corrosa Mendelssohn had trudged into Brill a few years back wearing nothing but her dress on and a large leather sack slung over her shoulder. What she had told her curious and somewhat dumbfounded peers was that she was leaving the city to find a nice quiet place away from the hustle and bustle and to set up a medical practice. The town of Brill was the perfect fit. Yet her private reasoning was that she wanted to find a nice quiet place away from the prying eyes of the city and continue her personal research into Fel Magicks. Yet illusions must be maintained, and to that end she had settled into a small shack at the fringe of town to set up a modest medical facility and apothecary.
That had been three years ago, when Brill was a pleasant –if somewhat dull- place to live.
“What happened, Corrosa?†He was a farmer. Ericson or something, she didn't remember the name. He worked on the farm to the north of Brill doing something farmy. He had come in a day ago clutching a small bundle of rags; his daughter, pale and sickly, wrapped in blankets to keep the scalding fever that wracked her form at bay.
“I checked her for everything, Fever, Cold, even Lupus. Any magical attempts at curing her are rebuked.†The two stood outside the woman's shack. The doctor wore her faded robes, the once deep black and reds that had made such elegant and blasphemous patterns now worn and faded away. A pair of thick leather gloves and a white butcher's apron was the only medical uniform she needed.
“And…?†The farm was wringing his hat between his calloused hands.
The good doctor wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the graveyard they were building across from her shack. The pale grave workers were just setting the iron fence into place while a small army of men –farmers, mostly. She recognized a few faces here and their, their once vibrant flesh now pale and be speckled with some sickly rash-were dug fresh plots in the soft earth.
“You can find her body in the back room. I've prepared her for burial for you.â€Â
The farmer stood rigid for a few moments. His gaze flickered between the graveyard, the doctor and the door. Then, with a strangled sob, the man slipped into the shack, the door clicking shut behind him.
Corrosa watched the men work for a while, her hands folded beneath her breasts. From inside she could hear the man crying. This was the fifteenth person to have died on her watch. She was tired and hungry.
“Screw it.†She pulled her gloves off and turned, moving down the street and towards the waiting cart. It had pulled up not to long ago with a fresh batch of grain and bread. A fresh loaf of bread from the bakery would clear her mind and ease her worries.
Just needed a fresh loaf of bread and she would be fine.
Myself: You'll have to excuse me, my lore is a bit flimsy on the subject…
Interviewer: I'll keep that in mind. I'll look this over later and get back to you on it. Do you have anything else to add?
Myself: Nein, Kommandant!
Interviewer: Ah..um…right. Well, you know where the door is. Thank you for coming in.
Myself: *snaps off a smart salute* Ja, Kommandant!
Interviewer: Stop that.
Much Ado About An Interview
A Morality Play In One Overly Long Part
Myself: Excuse me, but am I in the right place?
Interviewer: Ms. Rosecrucian, I presume?
Myself: Please, call me Mistress Rosecrucian Von Everheart the third of Somalia.
Interviewer: Ah…*clears throat* Yes, alright then…So, you'd like to join this community, correct?
Myself: Yes, I would.
Interviewer: Tell us about yourself. What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
Myself: Jeez…you really start off with the second degree, don't you? Ah…well, I like to think of myself as easy going and pleasant to be around. I'm calm, hard to anger and I take what I enjoy seriously. I would be the first to admit I'm a bit odd in my own special ways but I like to think that only contributes to my general attrait.
Interviewer: Was that French? Do you live in France?
Myself: Heavens no! Too many baguettes and not enough hamburgers. No, I just enjoy peppering my sentences with commonly known foreign words, such as Si and Nein. It gives me a pompous air which I enjoy, don't you agree, mon amour?
Interviewer: What is your country of origin?
Myself: American, born and raised. The east coast, to be more specific.
Interviewer: I hear it's lovely there this time of year.
Myself: It is if you are a mentally handicapped polar bear.
Interviewer: Anyway; How did you get into World of Warcraft and what made you pick our server out of all others?
Myself: Well, I've flirted with Warcraft on and off for a while, plucking up ten day trials here and sponging off friends' accounts there. I only started playing it religiously about four months ago when a friend of mine joined up and asked me if I'd like to give it a whirl with her. And the server? I've role-played religiously for over twelve years now. I've always enjoyed pluming the depths of my own creative wells. It's only common sense that I would combine my two passions of mindless repetitive gaming and persona playing into one, glorious package. And since you're the only RP server around…
Interviewer: What kind of Role-Play do you enjoy?
Myself: The fun kind.
Interviewer: …
Myself: I Role-Play for my pleasure. And my moods are fickle sometimes. At one time, I will enjoy a refreshingly deep and intellectual discourse with my guild mates in a dusky tavern on the very reasoning behind the war and the reasons we fight and die on foreign shores against an enemy that is as human –or humanoid- as anyone. And in the next instance, I enjoy being a particularly sadistic and wonderfully inept mad scientist with a pension for spouting humorous one-liners and somewhat off-kilter clichés. I am a serious role-player; so much so that I can poke fun at myself.
Interviewer: We like to think that we are a serious role-playing community.
Myself: And if you give me entrance, I promise that I will tone down my insanity and keep my antics firmly grounded in the realm of reality.
Interviewer: What are your favorite races and classes?
Myself: I've played every race and every class. Honestly, I don't have a single favorite. But, under duress…I'd have to say I enjoy Blood Elves, Undead, Humans and Draenei the most. And I usually favor magical classes such as Warlock and Mages, though I have been known to enjoy an odd Death Knight or two.
Interviewer: What are your expectations of the server?
Myself: A pleasant and friendly Role-playing community with an honest and engaging group who isn't afraid of letting someone new into their fold. My friend says that I should look elsewhere, but it never hurts to give every option a try.
Interviewer: Oh? What did your friend say?
Myself: That this server and its members were horrendously cliquish and that the rules stifled the pleasure of playing. But she tends to over-dramatize things for the sake of making a point. And anyway, I don't want to go off her opinion entirely. One needs to experience something first hand to draw conclusions for themselves.
Interviewer: Speaking of rules, what are your thoughts on them? Which ones do you enjoy?
Myself: The Iron Triangle of Role-Playing: Humility, Respect and Maturity. Without one the entire façade falters and the fun is quick to disperse.
Interviewer: Now do you happen to have a sampling of your writing style?
Myself: Why yes…Yes I actually do. Here…let me dredge it up for you…I put it in my bag somewhere.
“What do you think, Doctor?â€Â
“I don't have the time to think very much now, Sir.â€Â
Corrosa Mendelssohn had trudged into Brill a few years back wearing nothing but her dress on and a large leather sack slung over her shoulder. What she had told her curious and somewhat dumbfounded peers was that she was leaving the city to find a nice quiet place away from the hustle and bustle and to set up a medical practice. The town of Brill was the perfect fit. Yet her private reasoning was that she wanted to find a nice quiet place away from the prying eyes of the city and continue her personal research into Fel Magicks. Yet illusions must be maintained, and to that end she had settled into a small shack at the fringe of town to set up a modest medical facility and apothecary.
That had been three years ago, when Brill was a pleasant –if somewhat dull- place to live.
“What happened, Corrosa?†He was a farmer. Ericson or something, she didn't remember the name. He worked on the farm to the north of Brill doing something farmy. He had come in a day ago clutching a small bundle of rags; his daughter, pale and sickly, wrapped in blankets to keep the scalding fever that wracked her form at bay.
“I checked her for everything, Fever, Cold, even Lupus. Any magical attempts at curing her are rebuked.†The two stood outside the woman's shack. The doctor wore her faded robes, the once deep black and reds that had made such elegant and blasphemous patterns now worn and faded away. A pair of thick leather gloves and a white butcher's apron was the only medical uniform she needed.
“And…?†The farm was wringing his hat between his calloused hands.
The good doctor wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the graveyard they were building across from her shack. The pale grave workers were just setting the iron fence into place while a small army of men –farmers, mostly. She recognized a few faces here and their, their once vibrant flesh now pale and be speckled with some sickly rash-were dug fresh plots in the soft earth.
“You can find her body in the back room. I've prepared her for burial for you.â€Â
The farmer stood rigid for a few moments. His gaze flickered between the graveyard, the doctor and the door. Then, with a strangled sob, the man slipped into the shack, the door clicking shut behind him.
Corrosa watched the men work for a while, her hands folded beneath her breasts. From inside she could hear the man crying. This was the fifteenth person to have died on her watch. She was tired and hungry.
“Screw it.†She pulled her gloves off and turned, moving down the street and towards the waiting cart. It had pulled up not to long ago with a fresh batch of grain and bread. A fresh loaf of bread from the bakery would clear her mind and ease her worries.
Just needed a fresh loaf of bread and she would be fine.
Myself: You'll have to excuse me, my lore is a bit flimsy on the subject…
Interviewer: I'll keep that in mind. I'll look this over later and get back to you on it. Do you have anything else to add?
Myself: Nein, Kommandant!
Interviewer: Ah..um…right. Well, you know where the door is. Thank you for coming in.
Myself: *snaps off a smart salute* Ja, Kommandant!
Interviewer: Stop that.