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About Valushia

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    Revenant Swordsman

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  1. When the golden thread of divinity quivered at the vengeful pluck of its jaded caster, cruel and twisted arrows of heinous misfortune were alas united with their star-crossed longing. Bountiful, was a vindictive god’s jealous ray of petty sabotage and vandal, delivered at the thrum. Shone through the spleen of bright sanguine flourish and vermilion lost, a sacrifice was, indeed, the inevitable offspring of this supernal indignation. When it was reconciled, hubris was the tenor of that god’s lustful satisfaction, just as it always was. Apollo had succeeded. ‘Course, while the fetching subject of his heavenly aim may’ve been the revolting beauty of his ivory-crowned contender, the only real sufferer would be the revenant swordsman’s most present enemy, the true audience of his blade’s ungodly requiem for calamity besought. And it was every bit as “ugly” as Apollo thirstily quested it be. The idea was clever; superbly stellar for its conception, but bleakly lacking for its application. Since it was ultimately her design the advance Transient entity targeted with the energy he produced from his broadsword’s reverberate iron brandish, tweaking her own energy-pattern design might’ve sufficed to momentarily prolong her life; after all, a signature changed had to be reforged, but her efforts were scarce of two things: speed and initiative. The source-phenomena from which this synchronous weave sprang was vibration, sound — the sword’s iron hum resounding; hence, it was salient to surmise that the celerity of that gospel, only matched this. The instant that sword’s symphony of steel rang out about the battlefield upon being brandished by its magnificent wielder, the Transient entity’s Will had long since been disseminated throughout, and at this very velocity, no less. When its frequency sought this piercing modulation of pitch and amplitude upon Lorial’s sauntering discovery of the plane, which sonically tailgated itself to Valushia’s calibration of her energy-pattern blueprint, this was likewise the very instant that destructive synth wave aspired to break her. Any hope to flee back into the wild brush upon beholding him then; to say her faithful prayer, ensuing; to establish the synergy she even desired to achieve with the fauna-flora of her surroundings through an impressive nature dominion, so as to parent some incredible transformation of her being, were all exactly that — “hopes” unfulfilled, visions of the neverafter; each, grossly consuming of the infinitesimal time she truly had at her leisure. The Vampire-Nymph would’ve been blessed to have a single thought pass through her brain before the revenant swordsman coiled the synchronous weave of this profound ruination, let alone flee anywhere. The girl would’ve had to’ve been exponentially faster than the speed of sound to react in time and somehow illude this broadcast, and she expressed no withheld tenement of mastery to do such. Initiative, was her second lacking attribute. No matter how adept her intuitive sense of imminent danger may’ve been, how she possessed the means to appropriately apprehend what the Transient entity was evoking, was still a facility without its just foreground. Her wariness of the circumstance, unfortunately, did not lend her the faculty to assimilate, or process, the nature of the events that transpired; this being, the hyper-dimensional’s advance transfiguration of the blade’s symphonic bane. And neither did such caution ever gift her the preemption to avoid it. Blood was the only penance for the blessedly flawed. The god’s sacred banquet was met. One instant, she was there; a humanoid assemblage, fixed to the gracious infrastructure for which flesh and bone thankfully provided; a corpus, with robust shape and lovely anatomy at its disposal. The next, a simple waver, a simple, anxious quake of that femme temple in the wake of his sword’s inauspicious screech, inspired a grotesque eruption of her parts; a torrential rain of unassorted fats, marrows, organs and filaments wetly beat the marsh just as soon as they were freed from their bondage, alongside the downpour of a favored ruby dine once vitally contained. Briefly, had the skies traded sapphire for ruby then. When it hearkened that sword’s wailing steel requiem, even the Elysian fields of a great blue yonder sobbed remorsefully for the bygone. And the marsh welcomed this descent, heralding its heavy deluge with countless sopping thuds from on high afore drinking in the tasteful crimson, abreast to the gods. What remained gave no indication that there ever was a “Lorial”, just a mess. This was the gods' scorn. A slow quell of the preternatural screech brought the singsong to its end, as well the “fight”, and empty quietude returned to the marsh, at last. And yet, it was revulsion; the deepest, most abject disgust that sharply filed the revenant swordsman’s cutting marigold stare to a squint when he witnessed it in full; balled the marvelous countenance of ethereal perfection with the wrench of self-hate when his golden beam befell the piteous aftermath of decimation. Unlike his jealous surveyor, Valushia was not contented. The meandering carve of any former fondness once had for battle’s excellent prospects ebbed from the specter's pale lips with the realization that none would ever come, and signified the poignant spirit’s gaping dissatisfaction with the enmity of a beautifully crafted vessel. Swirling gold rings of vision aversely strayed from the sight and were drawn to the blade in his grasp now. And, like the ruby ambrosia once pleasantly sipped, its steel reflection betrayed a seraphic comeliness detested for its perfection, and reminded the specter of what was forfeited, of what was lost with this office. He longed for the worthy, and cursed the affliction of infallibility with a sudden careless toss of his sword — and of himself, moreover, afore embarking on the slow trot back to the estate. Strangely, when it was sky borne, it did not obey gravity’s weighted ball and chain of inevitable befall; it simply shattered, broke despairingly into a million glittering flecks of lambent silver at its master’s crushing disapproval and abandonment, all to be whisked into the wild by the sympathetic of gales of Zephyrus. What this strange fracture meant, no one could say for sure.
  2. Jaiystlyn didn't ask anything I ever answered. She found out what was readily available to her, by reading. It's 'telling' that you tried, all this time, to argue a position that was never something "to disagree with" in the first place. You wore the red nose and the shoes to match, why'd you need me to put on your makeup?
  3. "My argument's crumbled. I failed to support myself! I'm tired! Quick! Blanket Statements!" Why didn't you just paraphrase...?
  4. I think there are characters who are powerful, for the enterprise of their design and conception. I don't think there is any such thing as a character who is "overpowered", if that power is logical and grounded. If we can call anything "overpowered", it's the powers that aren't.
  5. I think this is you realizing that you never quite understood what the "original argument" was in the first place. It's an elegantly cheeky way of saying "I was wrong, I probably should keep quiet before I make myself look dumber." Glad I didn't have to keep doing it myself.
  6. You should go back to read those posts, because I can see understanding is scarce in yours. I don’t see why roleplaying can’t be a game. Never did I say that we can’t write of the environment, or of how “NPCs” react and change. ( Though the latter term might not be entirely accurate in the first place, because they are being played if someone is writing about how they “react” and “change”. ) Think. Read the referenced statement again. We have innate control over “our characters”. We have a degree of control over our environment, like how the birds chirp and how the clouds form, but not of the other characters who are being played by other roleplayers, within it; this degree of control is not “innate”, because we have to effectuate this change with our characters to see it fulfilled. It’s not narrow, it’s really common sense. If you aren’t willing to backread what’s being argued, or the very posts that explain what your contender’s stance is, don’t ask where these “wacky ideas” come from You’ll throw your boomerang in the wrong direction again.
  7. Even though you've pulled out, I wanted to at least honor this with a response. I think it's necessary to clear some things up. "I mean, I was not saying that a character must PVP or run in general. I was saying that if the opponent keeps on attacking and doesn’t stop (safely assuming they keep attacking after any pleas or barters) then fight or flight do seem to be the only options short of just ignoring the belligerent roleplayer. So if you are arguing a perceived point wherein I am stating that conflict is only PVP and responses are limited to fight or flight then you may not have read my post...or you simply misunderstood what I wrote." A roleplayer who plays a hostile character is not "belligerent" for this; neither would he be, if his character did not yield to the desperate pleas of his victim. He'd be an author, who decided that this is what Handsome Orc-Man would do. I didn't misread your post, nor did I misunderstand it, I thoroughly read it, and revealed its concerning errs of mentality. What I am saying, is that our in-character responses in the face of conflict initiation ( and any initiation ) are never limited by anyone, because they are solely dependent on how we go about playing our characters. When roleplayer A decides to attack roleplayer B, in character, roleplayer B isn't being "forced" to run or fight; he is doing either, with his character, because he has decided, of his own volition, that this is what his character would do in such a situation, just as he can decided, then, that it is fit his character take the blow, or even die, when Handsome Orc-Man strikes and does not relent. Character B is only "running", because this is how his author has decided that his character would respond. You aren't being "forced" to fight, you're fighting because this is something that you have decided, as an author autonomously controlling a character, that this is what that character would do. It's only "fight or flight", if this is your character's written disposition for response. Your character could just as easily submit to the will of an assailant. "Open world does not mean pick and choose who you roleplay with as much as it does in a closed thread. That’s why it’s an open thread. Yet, it also does not mean that you must be forced into a particular level of conflict with another PC, namely if it’s PVP, if the roleplayer is bordering on harassing you, and what have you." If we have decided that the Open World roleplays we are talking about, are ones that embrace all possibilities and any particular level of conflict we shouldn't be there if we weren't willing to engage in a certain level of conflict with another character, to begin with. This is my point. If we didn't want our beautiful Bella to be put in a situation where she could be outright attacked by Full Moon Wolf-Man, or any character for that matter, and would never be willing to respond to such, we shouldn't be in roleplaying settings where it is perfectly acceptable to be attacked, and for uninvited conflict to occur. I'm not a roleplayer "harrassing" another roleplayer, in this setting, if my character assays to strike theirs; I'm a roleplayer playing a character who is trying to attack another character. PVP or combat, is again, contingent on a mutual desire for characters to see violence enacted. I am not "forcing" a roleplayer to PVP with their character, if fighting was not something their author hadn't already espoused for them to do upon being threatened with in-character violence; Nor am I forcing them to run, if fleeing was not how their character was first espoused to react in the face of initiatory conflict, either. "I enjoy roleplay. I like closed settings and open settings. I like writing with other people and I usually have no issue. I like reading books too. But I have no need or desire to trade one for the other. So I am appeased." It's nice to write books, isn't it? Because we have total control over the actions of the characters within the narrative, and how that narrative unfolds. This is not, however, the case with roleplaying, where we only have any innate control over our own characters; and this is especially not the case with Open World roleplays that are not predetermined by the consultation of its participating writers -- the one's I've been referring to. And neither should we expect this level of control when immersed in these settings, because we can never have it if we do not use our characters to achieve it. I enjoy roleplay too, because anything can happen, because I can do anything, but only if I make it possible with my character.
  8. "From my last post: "You seem to use PvP and Conflict interchangeably, and though you've admitted that conflict is not limited to PvP/combat, this seems to be the kind of conflict you reference the most. Character death, orcs swinging axes, and characters being pushed off swings seem to be the ready examples. Of the types of conflict, combat is often the simplest form, and the manner in which the killer taxonomy type structure their combat conflict tends to be both simplistic (as in linear, not "dumb" but it can be that too) and self-centered. You might still be able to pull of a reasonable level of engagement with this (Dredge has, for example) but that is why its incumbent on your ability to generate buy-in rather than the site endorsing your ability to disrupt on a whim" I'd like to inquire as to why you felt the need to remind me of a point I already made, and in greater detail?" My post was made to address Die Shize's contentions; if you had read, you would've noticed that while you were, indeed, mentioned, none of your excerpts were addressed in that post, namely because I have yet to read yours in full ( I'll probably dissect them, later on ); however, even if I am reiterating what you believe to be an argument, resolved, that is not to say that I was reiterating my words for you; your clarity, does not necessarily mean Die Shize's. However, judging from the what you've posted here, I can tell you the shortcoming, and why it is clarity has yet to be reached. "PvP", which is what we have established to be synonymous with combat, is not the same as conflict initiation. While they may seem to share a close kinship, they are very different. Swinging an axe at your character, to maim or harm him, does not constitute the nature of "combat"; this, is an assail, which is distinct from what "combat" is, definitively. Combat would imply that resistance was met, that your character retaliated; that when my character swung his axe, not only did you duck, you assayed to draw your sword, cut and disembowel him. Characters can die, without there ever having been "combat" involved; Characters can be swung at, without ever swinging back. Characters can be pushed off swings, without ever getting up to push back, in kind. That is why "character death, orcs swinging axes, and characters being pushed off swings" are, verily, not good examples of PvP/Conflict interchangeability, because they were never used interchangeably in the first place. Violence and combat are not the same, even though the latter necessitates the former. "First, what do you mean by mutualistic? Here's what the word actually means and none of these seem to apply: https://www.dictionary.com/browse/mutualistic If I were to "siphon" from previous posts I think the word you're going after is collaborative. It's the word I see used most often in previous posts by doing a CTRL + F, and its antipode appears to be "competitive". Until you can provide a more satisfactory / specialized definition or term, this will have to do, because otherwise we're dealing with a tautology - something is of mutual aid only when it is of mutual aid, which is to say it's possible but not a requisite; the fact of combat merely requiring two parties does not inherently make it mutually beneficial It takes two to fight but that doesn't make it collaborative in anything but the loosest definition of the word. You could make an argument that in some ways a performance and its audience are collaborative, there's an exchange of "energy", or a call-resposne ("When I say X, you say Y!"), but it isn't really, not in the way we mean collaborative in the creative sphere. UFC fights are not collaborative just because it takes two people to have a match. It's fine for you to think and argue otherwise but it's a stark difference of opinion if so" The term mutualistic, is the arcane adjective form of "mutualism", a derivative of the noun "mutual"; which means to be shared or exchanged between two parties, and to be definitively exact: "(of a feeling or action) experienced or done by each of two or more parties toward the other or others." "held in common by two or more parties." An interaction cannot be called "combative", if violence is not exchanged. When we look upon the term mutualism, and then onto the what we have defined combat to be, we can find that it most certainly does "benefit" and "aid" both participating parties, simply in that it lends to the desired necessity that violence be enacted between its participants; this is what makes battle mutualistic. When you are "collaborating", both forces are working with one another; when you are "combating", both forces are working against one another. Characters aren't "collaborating" with one another when they fight, they're combating each other; but, the roleplayers behind them most certainly are collaborating if they desire to see this phenomena brought to fruition. Furthermore, you need to define "creative sense". Expound. How do we mean "collaboration in the creative sense", if it does not mean coming together in order to create something? "Going back to your axe example, your arguments advance constantly on lines of false binaries, a sort of if it isn't one end of the pole then it must be the other. If your thread isn't "spontaneous" enough to allow my character to come in wielding an axe and for you to have to respond to that, despite whatever it is you were trying to do before hand, then it isn't spontaneous. Just working through the logic of it we can see that isn't the case. I can have "some" spontaneity in some aspects of the thread while not having any in the others. There are a lot of "axe examples" provided, and they are used with relevance to the contention; specificity is important here. Which example; moreover, how and why is it a "false binary"; did I say, upon addressing Die Shize, that "if my character cannot come in swinging an axe, the roleplay is not spontaneous", or did I say, that contrary to his fallacy, "many things in roleplay can indeed be spontaneous." Support is essential for anything that you may be asserting, especially if it is dependent on the reference of your contender’s example. You should quote this implication, make it clear. Otherwise, accusations like "false binaries", look hollow, and duplicitous; what aspects of this axe-swinging example become indicative of your assertion's accuracy? In the future, this is something you should better assess, when arguing. Re-reading my post, however, what we can find, in fact, is that the predicate for my argument had much to do with, instead, the fault of @Die Shize's vast-sweeping assertion; the assertion that "nothing is terribly spontaneous", and that "No roleplayer randomly swings an axe at someone’s PC no matter how angry their orc is. The decision is made OOC before it is executed IC." This is an untrue blanket statement that swathes the character of not just all roleplays, but of all roleplayers; presumes, that all roleplays and roleplayers are tailored to group-forethought convention, despite the fact that we are referring to settings that aren’t. Once more, the settings I am referring to, are precisely the kinds of roleplay threads that welcome this no-holds barred spontaneity; what I am questioning, is the common sense, or lackthereof, of the roleplayer who interacts in these settings, knowing the possibility, only to become upset when their characters don’t wind up on this possibility's good-side. "It isn't about the manifold different responses a creative mind can generate with respect to a swung axe, it's the fact of having to deal with the axe to begin with, and the ability of one person to dictate when this should happen. Some people may like this, and that's fine. They may tag their thread open and declare to the world that they're ready and eager for the kind of no-holds barred spontaneity that you seem to be advocating for. Other people, people with children or multiple jobs or school matched with any of these, may have a different opinion than you do as to how their free time should be spent. They may only want to deal with the infamous orc war as a narrative element to add tension to their romance arc, and someone shelling their estate may interfere with that. Or it may not. Or they may be fine with it at a later point in the thread, one a specific point gets resolved. Or they would rather a platoon storming the front door than a ICBM. All of which are fine responses to have because it's ultimately their story and the person joining, spontaneously, to throw axes has to be able to make the people want to respond, not merely assume that it is now their responsibility to by mere fact of their presence." The roleplays that "tag their thread open and declare to the world they're ready and eager for the kind of no-holds barred spontaneity" I seem to be "advocating for", are the only ones I've ever been referring to; again, other threads with unique dictations for conduct, are, naturally, preclude. The red-haired K-mart cashier lady, and mother of three, who comes home from work after her boyfriend puts the kids to sleep, to log onto Valcure and take the time out to make a thread for a specific kind of roleplay, . . . say a Victorian vampire romance, to simulate the sort of plot she's only seen in her favorite Twilight movies through close deliberation with her Valcure friends, is not the lady I'm talking about. We're talking about the roleplayer who enters the former of these two settings, of which roleplay is unplanned, spontaneous, as well as dangerous, if not for those reasons, and then deigns to ignore the axe-swinging orc, upon being threatened by the prospects of in-character harm simply for his inability to properly elude it. I think, we can all agree, that in what we call interactions, interacting is in an integral spine; we cannot roleplay with others, if our characters are not interacting, after all. It should go without saying, then, that when we are roleplaying with others, we are, naturally, dealing with other characters; but are you to tell me your concern here lies simply in the fact that the roleplayer, in question, merely has to "deal with" the axe? Merely has to deal with a force that lies outside of their character's, outside of themselves, as roleplayers do? That your concern lies with the fact that I have the autonomy as a roleplayer, to dictate when my own character draws his axe and impose change on other characters in a narrative we are said to share? And more importantly, in a setting that should welcome this "no-holds barred spontaneity", as though this were something that we didn't know we’d be doing when stepping foot in roleplay settings of this attitude? "Who are you to try and change my environment and the characters around me, with yours?" A roleplayer. "Who am I to even attempt at initiating conflict with character B?" A roleplayer. "I disagree that this should be a guiding question because doing so would make my limited availability to roleplay ad-hoc on demand to anyone who wants to throw a conflict my way. I no longer have agency to plan and plot the things that I want to see realized but have to perforce shift the spotlight of my narrative to the randomly introduced conflict at the whims of whoever feels like it at the time, and not everyone will be equally capable of dovetailing what they want with what I want." If the "agency to plan and plot the things that I want to see realized", ( presumably in group-discourse with others ) was something I wanted, why would I ever roleplay in a setting whose conduct didn't yield to the collective forethought of its participants? If it is however, the "agency to plan and plot things in the way you want to see things realized", at all, then no one else aside for you, is culpable; because nothing save for the ingenuity of your authorship, and the resourcefulness of your roleplaying, are preventing this agency. If you want to see something fulfilled in a roleplay of this nature; be it a plan, plot; character goal or destination; it is in the conscientiousness we put into our characters and how we interact using them, that we we achieve it. Just as what the roleplayer behind the axe-swinging Orc might want, is equally bound to this necessity. When addressing the story, you use the same interesting determiners I notice before; you say "my" narrative, "my" story. But again, I ask, how much of the story is yours when you are roleplaying with others? "So 75% of your started threads are, specifically, combat oriented with what appears to be a T1 framework. So then, as far as how conflict is resolved, is it fair to assume the proposed system is T1? And if not, what would the system be?" This is fair. But, the "proposed system" for etiquette is really an application of common sense, which admittedly, may not always be so common; the T1 Rules and Guidelines however, merely helps to ensure that it is. Some of you may not be familiar with T1, but you are familiar with the etiquette it assures, and you are, nonetheless, abiding. The T1 Rules and Guidelines are a determinant for whether or not we are using common sense and respecting the system that makes it possible for us to roleplay, and it is not exclusive to combat.
  9. "Call me crazy, but I'm not sold on the premise that arguments based on "should and shouldn't" are particularly relevant here." But what are you truly saying here? What is your proposal, if not but a posit on what you believe roleplay "should" be? On how you believe roleplay should be tactfully approached? What are your examples, like unfairly engaging a Martial Artist with your formidable airship if not but a posit on how you believe it "shouldn't." "Should and shouldn't" are especially pertinent, here, because our respective positions are firmly placed on the foothold of these verbs; of should and shouldn't. What would your premise become, otherwise? If we are, again, delineating a purpose for why it is others roleplay, if we are defining what roleplaying is and how we should, therefore, go about it, then we are intrinsically drawing from principles we believe to be absolute. "Your argument, as I interpret it, hinges on pure RP - that RPers, ideally, shouldn't be allowed certain preferences in open combat RP - of RP in a vacuum with artificial intelligence that doesn't care how you treat it, if you will. RP in complete isolation. RP philosophy devoid of human emotion and basic consideration of the feelings of others." Not combat RP. Open-world roleplays. We should always be allowed preference in environments adherent to our dictation for preference, but I'm questioning the logicality of those with a certain "preference" in "Open-world" settings when we apprehend the nature of what these settings are, and what may entail we step foot within them. "If I treat others poorly, I'm missing the mark on Element 2 and, most likely, Elements 3 and 4. If I force combat on people, I'm treating them poorly. Thus, I fail to meet my goals as a roleplayer." Piggybacking on many of my last posts, I'll continue to mention that combat is, indeed, a twofold sport. A character's initiation at conflict, only becomes "combat" in the face of retaliation. I cannot "force" your character to partake. You have the autonomy over your character as an author, to have them react however you'd like; to duck, to take the hit, to cower, etc. If I am simply playing the role of an aggressor in the narrative, does this truly constitute "treating people poorly"? "For a long time, I played a bunch of villains. They were part of an evil organization. The evil organization's base of operations was a giant, insane eldritch entity. Two good organizations opposed the one evil organization. One day, they decided to team up and kick in the front door. They proceeded to beat up the villains and then leave. This wasn't enough for one guy. He had his heart set on killing the giant, insane eldritch entity. The eldritch entity losing wasn't enough; it was perma or else in this guy's mind. When the player of the eldritch entity denied the perma, this guy was erupted with salt. He banned anyone from playing characters affiliated with the evil organization in "his" city. He didn't even play in or manage "his" city, and it was one of two cities on the forum." I think that there are questions we should always take a moment ask whenever we look upon quandaries like these, they rarely ever tend to be as bleakly black and white when we observe them at depth. Why did Insane Eldritch Entity-Man deny the perma; was it for Angry Man's inability to effectually fulfill a permanent death in character, or was it for Insane Eldritch Entity-Man's desire to see his character live, even where it feasibly should not have? I will stress how the desire for outcomes, against our means to actually solidify them through the shrewdness of our characters and our roleplaying, can be detrimentally undermining. Roleplaying can be fun, for both myself and others, but this doesn't mean that everyone must get their way for us to have it; not everyone whose character ends up at the roleplay's adverse end needs the platinum gold star of favorable odds, to have fun. I'm certain that some of you would exclaim "well, neither does the axe-swinging roleplayer who vies for the kill need to get his way for him to have fun, either!" This is where I would extol the importance of earnesty in roleplaying. How we delegate who deserves what in roleplay, should ultimately be based on roleplay; how we delegate whether or not Angry Man slays the monster, or whether or not Eldritch Entity-Man endures, shouldn't be based on who we perceive to be bigger sufferer of loss, or what we think would lend to the better outcome, but rather, on who earned these ends through the ingenuity of their roleplaying, of their writing and tended character. I believe that if the author of an axe-swinging Orc sees his assailed slain, solely through the prowess of his roleplaying and writing, solely through what he was able to effectuate with his character, that in the earnesty of roleplaying, he is just to vie for that deed's actuality. In the same way I believe that if the roleplayer behind that Martial Artist were ever to survive the fiery onslought of your ship's ballistic strafes solely through the ingenuity of his writing, that he would be just to vie for his character's life, and have it. Are we to rob them of their character's truly earned feats and fulfillments to placate the sentiments of those whose characters did not succeed as they intended? Is this reward-system healthy? is it fair? Is this considering basic "human emotions"? Is it ideal, that we constrain the intents of other characters; what it is your ship man might be compelled to try and do unto mine; or what it is my karate-man might be compelled to try do unto yours, in order to tip-toe around the desire for undeserved character prosperity? I think that maybe we should begin turning our heads, instead, towards these sentiments, and question where they come from, and if appeasing them, unconditionally, is truly a solution? Certainly, it is natural that we have the desire to see our characters prosper; it is natural that we have the desire to see them be and to become; but this mere desire is not enough to transcend the need that in this game, if we want to achieve any end, we must ultimately ensure it through the medium, roleplay, and extensively, my character. If my goal, and intent, is to have Handsome Orc-Man find the means to transform into the Insane Eldritch Entity-Man so that he can one day threaten the fate of Valcure, then I must secure this end through the nature of the craft, of my resourcefulness as a roleplayer and writer playing a character who is poised against the defiance of a treacherous world. I believe that we should honor roleplaying veracity; that you have to play the game, if you want to win and that if we stay true to the nature of that game, we can have even more fun.
  10. "When your character walks up to my character and pushes him off a swing then you are forcing interaction between our characters. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing but it means that I might respond in kind. I might force lightning upon you because, hey, it’s all about interaction. You could write the push as an attempt and not a guarantee but I might write that my swing suddenly got faster in time to swing into your push and send you flying." Recall, in my given example, that I chose my words with subtle discretion; "when my character goes to try and push @Die Shize's off his swing". The key part of this sentence is "try and push"; when we consider roleplaying etiquette, whenever character B is concerned, character A is forever endeavoring; always attempting and always assaying; that is, until character B's response provides character A with the resolute means to either fulfill this endeavor or not. What you seem to be referring to, in your first example, are those who break this necessary formality; and certainly, you are right to tactfully ignore "auto-hitters" what I am referring to, however, are those who act within that etiquette, but because of the perils their characters pose in a setting that is open-world, are nonetheless ignored. Under this etiquette, your character always has the means to respond to initiatives — to attempts. The problem lies in when we neglect response for our perceived inability to do so unscathed, for our desire for control or desired outcome. "So, sure, the conflict mechanics go both ways that allow both parties to acknowledge together whether a PvP is about to take place or not. But if one person doesn’t want to fight and the other person does, and the one who does keeps trying to force a fight onto the other, then this is no longer collaboration. This is one person trying to force their whims and their story on the other." Let's step away from "PvP", for a moment. Your statement, here, seems to be particularly worshiping of "fights", but I would like to remind both you and @supernal, that fights do not make up the totality of conflicts that take place in narrative. Again, siphoning from my initial post, fighting ( PvP; combative roleplay ) is very much a mutualistic sport; it takes two to fight; it takes two to engage in combat. I can’t "force" your character to act in any way that lies beyond the scope of its natural inclination, in the same way that I am helplessly unable to force my shitty Volkswagen to flip into a battle-ready Autobot, no matter how many times I might try to deliver it a swift kick in the fender. Bella doesn't have the mechanics. She simply jolts at the force, just as her design would entail. The undermining flaw we can see in your argument, is the assertion that an aggressor or assailant who seeks out conflict with the impassive, is somehow forcing the roleplayer to fight with their character; but, precisely as aforesaid, "when that seven foot orc slings his weighty steel mallet at your character in some explosive fit of rage, no one is demanding that your glittering fae "fight" back, or that it does anything beyond its natural inclination to do, but be mindful of the fact that just because it can't fight back, doesn't mean that the interaction can't go on, or that it is somehow magically due for annul". Your character doesn’t have to fight for the roleplay to continue, and when all is said and done, you were never being asked to. "Open world does not mean anything goes, at least not on Valucre, and that’s what I was gearing toward. Open world can still include rules and guidelines or else anything does go. So you’re either allowed to force conflict on another player or you’re not. And where do you draw the line? If you can randomly walk up to a PC and swing an axe at them and the roleplayer must ultimately PVP you or run away because you keep on swinging then is there a rule against spontaneously exploding because you also randomly stepped into a trap they were saving for angry orcs with axes? Well that all depends on the site and its rules. Covered above my post.” I notice that you possess a potent affinity for the use of “anything goes” as being an ideology that is, somehow, co-aligned to my own beliefs when it comes to roleplaying in open-world settings. This term is not an apt paraphrase. Many of the contentions made in your post are directly addressed in my aforementioned ones -- such, that quoting them are suffice to parallel many of the assertions you've posed, already. This leads me to question just how much of my former posts you actually bothered read, if at all. But, notwithstanding redundancy, this is where I will, yet again, repeat myself, and where I will stress that "anything goes" is not an “an on-the-nose summation of what I was positing before, at least, not the way it's been misconstrued.” Again, “I believe that there is, and should be, praxis in rolepay. What I'm arguing, however, is what that praxis should be, especially when dealing with adversity in roleplays, themselves." Of course there are underlying rules and guidelines that provide the foreground for the proverbial roleplaying experience. Never was it my claim that open-world interactions exist outside the necessity for conduct; what we’re trying to demarcate is what this conduct should be, and more acutely, how in-character conflict should be appropriately dealt within precarious open-world settings. If you “walk up to a PC and randomly” do anything; swing an axe; throw a drink; fling your excrement; that roleplayer, be their character ‘PC’ or otherwise, can respond how ever it is their written disposition for that character would mandate. If it is in the ire of some profound indignation that their character decides, therein, to draw upon yours a great streak of lightning from on high; or, in the lust to see the scientific brilliance of their untested contraptions at play, that their character resolves to detonate those subterranean explosives, so be it. If their character justifiably has this godsend in their arsenal and makes its use viable, if that character truly did prepare that devious entrapment beforehand, so be it. What our question should be is: How can I turn this into something more? How can this small, and even, perhaps, unseemly conflict be made into the centre of significant plot-creation? How can I try to effectuate this with my character? An innovative mind will find that there is never a shortage of answers. In your hypothetical, you give a funny ultimatum for characters who are pit against the odds of adversity in narrative; that if a character is threatened by some fast-approaching axe, they have no other choice than to 'PvP' or run; and that they "must" do these, in the face of such a conflict. This rigid fallacy expresses the grand-scale problem that I have sought to highlight thus far. Why is it that these are my only options; why is it that my character is incapable of pleading or bartering; why is he incapable of taking the hit? When threatened with axe-swinging conflict, "the roleplayer must ultimately PVP you or run away", as you say; but take a look at what your ultimatum best ensures -- character survival; character prosperity. This false exclamation, and constraint to in-character decision making, transparently reveals a fallacy of its caster; my character can never be at the roleplay's adverse ends. These are my only options, because otherwise my character is at the full mercy of the roleplay, of someone other than myself. I am in no longer in control. But does this yearning to see our characters thrive surmount the necessity that we play them honestly, and veraciously? In roleplaying, does this deep seeded desire to see our characters progress as we envision, surmount the necessity that they ultimately give to a story greater than themselves, and that we use our characters, the shrewdness of their design, and of our writing, to execute these aspirations when we are collaborating? Why are we roleplaying, if the grail of pursuit is ultimately our character's prosperity above the narrative's? "Now if we’re purely going the route of rhetoric then I think it’s important to understand that roleplay is not confined to any one system. Like video games, there are different types of roleplay. There are also different types of open world roleplay. Some people roleplay because they want to write with other people and explore a single character for IRL years, making it a mission to avoid putting their PC in situations where another PC might kill them, but enjoying open instead of closed threads in order to spontaneously meet others." The "open-world" roleplays I am referring to are very specific. If you read, I define them in my earlier post. These are interactions that are not bound or predetermined to have any certain outcome; a pool where characters gather at happenstance, and the story is woven through the spontaneous course of events that unfold. Here, deliberation on what Bob's character might do is not forbade, but neither is it mandate; the only thing mandate of Bob is that he roleplays with the kind of etiquette we lightly touched upon earlier -- that he doesn't auto-hit, puppeteer, etc; that he is aligned to these respects. Individual motive for wanting to build a story with others is fine, but I am attacking the salience of the roleplayer who throws their character into settings that welcome the grander flourish of precarious feasibility, only to boohoo when the roleplay does not proceed as they envisioned it should have. If you have a character that you want to tend to for an x amount of "IRL years", a character you want to see live up to any given prophesy, and you've even gone to make it "a mission to avoid putting your PC in situations where another PC might kill them", why are you still stepping foot into open-world settings that you know might not tend to this desired end? Setting goals that we want our characters to reach isn’t an innately bad thing; in fact, it’s good. Having visions for our character’s prosperity is fine, and its an attribute that surely many of us have. It helps us to better define what our characters are when we can juxtapose them to what we hopefully envision them to be. But, if I want Little Bob to step in and one day become the King of Valcure, then I must do so with the care and thought I put into roleplaying him; I must do so with my innovation as a writer in order to effectuate this change, through Little Bob and his actions, against a world that might repel my desire to see him achieve this. I must roleplay cleverly to make my dumb, rumble tumble peasant child, Little Bob, one day see the throne. But, I am, ultimately, acting through my character and my ingenuity as a writer, and not outside of them, to see this goal brought to fruition. Our characters, and our ingenuity in playing them, is the fulcrum upon which this is dependent. It is when we act beyond our characters and outside of this ingenuity to exact our desire for outcome in a collaborative setting, that this can become problematic. “Little Bob must be King! Therefore, he cannot die here! The roleplay is off!” “Little Bob must see the throne gracefully, therefore he cannot suffer the embarrassment of defeat! The roleplay can no longer go on!” “Little Bob cannot be arrested here, he is too cunning! I will not respond!” Much as you ascribe “force” to be the nature of roleplayers those who wield aggressors and axe-swinging Orcs alike, the above mentality, is ironically, the true definition of forcing your way in roleplay. If I want something in roleplay, in a shared narrative, I have to earn it. “But really nothing is terribly spontaneous. No roleplayer randomly swings an axe at someone’s PC no matter how angry their orc is. The decision is made OOC before it is executed IC. And a person who doesn’t want to deal with that and engage in PVP conflict shouldn’t have to, as much as someone who doesn’t want to have their PC play basketball when the ball comes their way shouldn’t have to. They can catch the ball or let it fly past them and pick it up, pass the ball back or leave the ball, accept the players’ invitation or decline, and all is well and good, but if the players try to force basketball onto the other person then that’s a problem." Where you've gathered this from, I have no clue; I can only guess, that this is how you've roleplayed for some time, but I can assure you that many things in roleplay can indeed be spontaneous. It reflects the nature of your purlieu, and of what you've been exposed to ( or lack thereof ), that these are what you hold as verities to roleplay’s approach; that this confinement to group-forethought, is, somehow, ubiquitous to roleplaying conduct. An interaction does not always necessitate that every singular, infinitesimal step of the mile, be first “allowed" by some council; there are, however, roleplays that function, unanimously, in this controlled way. But to say that "nothing is terribly spontaneous", is a blanket statement that disregards the roleplays that are; to say that no "roleplayer randomly swings an axe at someone's PC no matter how angry their orc is", disregards the roleplayers that have. ( Moreover, how can roleplayers go to "open instead of closed threads in order to spontaneously meet others", if nothing is terribly spontaneous? ) The the open-world settings that I am referring to, are ones that welcome spontaneity; ones where I do not need a council's permission to fly in on my cool gravity-defying hoverboard, or to throw that basketball from across the court. And when Adam throw's that basketball at a roleplayer's character, I am not “forcing” Sally to play the game; in the same way I am not “forcing” your character to battle, if my Orc swings his axe in their direction. Remember, likewise, that PvP is mutualistic. Both you and supernal seem to have a difficult time grasping this concept. As I have said time and time again, no one is asking that your character "engage in PvP", you have the right as an author to play your character as you have written; the question is, should a character's inability to fight back; to return the bruise kissed cheek, equate to a roleplay's end? "Also, whether a PC dies or not is endlessly subjective but if we generalize it as a roleplayer not wanting their character to die outside of clearly established death-is-a-go parameters then that’s their choice. Roleplay isn’t about who dies and who lives. It’s about writing stories and enjoying them. With other people, not against them." What they do beyond the parameters of these open-world settings, in the comforts of their own unique writing habitats, is, of course, their choice. But again, the discussion never had to do with what takes place in those settings, as it did open-world ones — shared realms of roleplaying dominion, without constraint to group-forethought. You go on to say that "roleplay isn't about who dies and lives", but take a moment to assess your argument, and how it can be self-conflicting. Why should some make it "a mission to avoid putting their PC in situations where another PC might kill them", if roleplay is not about who lives and dies? If roleplaying is not about who lives or dies, why do we still try to engineer character prosperity, outside our characters and outside our writing, in the first place? And more importantly, why do we sometimes do so, even at the expense of the very same stories we are ultimately trying to contribute to? You say, "I don’t have time to explore my characters in satisfying ways before they expire. I want to keep hold of them and write with them at my own leisure. And, really, as long as my decision doesn’t bother anyone else then no one else should be bothered by it." But if roleplaying isn't about who lives or who dies, then why does your concern culminate in the expiry of your characters, at all? Why does this concern effect the way you roleplay? And who is to say, moreover, that before your character expires, you could never have explored the intimacies of their make? Your assertions are essentially, “Roleplay is not about who lives or dies, but I don’t roleplay like this because my character may die.” Yes, exploring our own characters is, no doubt, part of what makes roleplaying so satisfying, its thrilling; we know this; but is this satisfaction mutually exclusive to embracing the precarious unfold? Is it such an impossible feat to explore our characters while amidst the great uncertainty of that expanse? Roleplayers can write stories and just easily enjoy them, while just as fluently embracing the precariousness of this unfold. Am I, inherently, "against them" because my role in a narrative is that of an enemy or opposition; assailant or aggressor? Am I an impediment to the roleplaying experience for taking on the mantle of the very same conflict we see embedded in all good stories? Am I incapable of, perhaps, being with them, of being with the story and its progression? As an adversary or "villain", can I not be a cog in the machination of this narrative's propulsion? If I simply play an aggressor, or an Orc that dares to swing his battle-axe in your character's direction, for his own reasons, does this make a roleplayer lusting for "everyone to die at just about any time"? "You say go write a book but that’s not much different than self-defining what everyone’s roleplay should be like. It shouldn’t boil down to writing roleplay or writing a book, and really if someone wants everyone’s character to be able to die at just about any time then that person can also just go write a book." In all, you missed the points of my last post. What are we doing, here, in this discussion, if not but propounding on what roleplay should be and shouldn't be like? Your premise is similarly flawed like @The Alexandrian's. This is an argument of "should's and shouldn'ts". How could you have held this position, thus far; how could you've asserted what roleplaying is, make the claim that roleplay is "not about who dies or lives", if you did not define what roleplaying was about, first. We are both self-defining roleplay, what it is, and what it should be, otherwise you wouldn't have an argument to make. My sarcastic suggestion to "write a book" had a very important underlying message that you didn't seem to catch. When we write books, our word is undisputed; an author's desire for control, dominion and autonomy over any part of the narrative, is eternally gratified; the story is prostrate to the whim of its author; there is never resistance. In a shared narrative, or in roleplay, however, where we have many authors, there is. For those of us that still desire the same amount of control we find in the former pastime; for those who yearn for unchallenged and unadulterated control over the narrative and its direction, a book is the only place that will ever appease them.
  11. I wouldn't mind taking part, if I could somehow gape the free-time. I think I recall accepting, but my schedule is somewhat limited.
  12. "Where autonomy means "the quality or state of being self-governing", which is what it means according to the dictionary, this assertion of yours is false on Valucre because here we have a line item in the RP FAQ that talks about "player primacy". You are absolutely able to dictate the terms by which someone is able to join in on your story. You are able to do so even to your own chagrin, if the criteria that you saddle your story with do more to deter than to attract, but the assumption that by merely engaging in the act of roleplay you lose all power to all elements of the roleplay is simply not accurate" Relinquishing total autonomy over a story and its fate, and losing "all power to all elements of the roleplay", are two different things; you can relinquish total autonomy over a story and its fate, while still having the power to impact the elements within it; the former only means that how a story ends in an "open-world setting", is not up to your preferential standards for desired outcome, but merely by the procession of events that unfold, and what it is you can logically effectuate, in character. You play a role in a story, it is only natural that you have some power -- the only dissent here, in this discussion, is extent. This abjuration of complete jurisdiction over a story's end, translates to a simple philosophy; if your character and mine are engaged in a competitively fun game of basketball, just because I think my Adam's a nice guy and is thereby better deserving of the win, doesn't mean he will if he can't cement the victory through skill -- that, and his guard is shitty. Let it also be known, that "the terms by which someone is able to join in on your story", is still not the same as relinquishing total autonomy over a story and its fate; by contrast, I state that the desire for preference is fine, and its enforcement is finer, what we're arguing, however, is where that preferences should be enforced. Again, my argument refers exclusively to "open-world" roleplays and interactions, where possibility is not confined; where characters can join as they see fit; so, we aren't discussing roleplays that lie under other unique dictations of term. I find it to be notably interesting, moreover, that you also seem prone to using determiners like "yours", "mine", "his", and "theirs" when we talk of story; but, in a setting that is expressly open-world, in threads that make these liberty interactions permissible, how much of the story is "yours" as juxtaposed to "ours", if neither of us run the thread? "It precisely vouchsafes exactly that privilege. How people use or abuse that privilege, under what conditions and how frequently and to what extent, are matters of taste and preference and you can find those whose preferences align with yours and play the same kind of game but - well, see player primacy above. It answers this too. Your other examples set up something of a false dichotomy, in that there is a wide spectrum between unequivocal control of all aspects of a story and exclusive control over your own character asset or other resources" You might've made a premature response here, glanced over my last post too hastily, or without thorough dissection; this is where I'll direct you to my the third paragraph; as aforementioned, my argument pertains, exclusively, to "open-world" settings. I am not debating "taste and preference" in its totality, what we're arguing is whether or not a desire for taste and preference; for themes; and for things like fixed possibility or outcomes, should extend to settings that are expressly open-world -- free settings unhinged and unaffixed to any one possibility or outcome. "Valucre isn't built to cater to "killers". It caters most to achievers and explorers, and second most to socializers, then to killers (in, say, allowing people to self-organize tournaments with their own combat rules but we no longer host our own site-wide tournaments). The boundless possibilities are there for the players involved to conscientiously select and experience at their leisure. That is the purpose of game. Some people script out an ending but, again, there is a spectrum between the points of "accept all possible permutations of boundless possibilities" and "script out an ending and follow it color-by-numbers style". Most people exist in a comfortable medium where some things may be decided on ahead of time for positive, i.e. we do this, or negative, i.e. we don't do this, without becoming formulaic" I'd hope Valcure was built to cater to roleplayers, irrespective of what they roles they played; be they killers, achievers, explorers or otherwise. And, once more, we're talking about "open-world" interactions that aren't bound to the course of a predetermined outcome; take the moment to ask yourself, sensibly, what a "script" is, and then look at what was previously defined to be "open-world"; how can the occasional predilection for "scripted" roleplay be pertinent, if the interactions we're referring to are not affixed, by its players, to have a predestination? "You have a specific vision of roleplay in mind and it's fine to have that. If you think it's the golden standard of how roleplay should be run then I encourage you to do that and show us the way. In my experience running Valucre, it's when people are provided the psychological safety of knowing that they can pick and choose the things that they do and experience that they have the comfort in the ability to do things like bet their characters' lives on random number generators, and allows them to invest in storylines that span literal years because they aren't concerned they could wake up tomorrow and all their hard work is on fire "because boundless possibilities". I've yet to see the opposite style of site management yield stories of similar depth, complexity, or longevity, nor have I seen a system that allows for consistent and seamless conflict resolution where "boundless possibility" means "I don't have to message anyone for permission" (for anything, presumably)" Much as providing people with a psychological safe-space might be virtuous, I have to question the sagacity of those who would place their characters into the breadth of a setting that they knew welcomed the breadth of that "boundless" possibility, only to express reproach after the results weren't in their character's favor. "Where are you getting this from? Who have you seen rejecting the idea of character death so much so that you'd call it a pandemic fear or paranoia? I've seen lots of players have characters die or be willing to let their characters die and they just haven't (see above) and I've seen those same players not want to let other characters die because they have long-term plans for those characters and don't want to stop playing the game they're using that character for - nor should they have to because of someone else's perspective of how a game should be run. Each person can run their own game under the rules they think are going to lead to more success" Read this excerpt aloud, and ask yourself where I could be "getting this from"; if you've seen players "not want to let their characters die because they have long-term plans for those characters and don't want to stop playing the game they're using that character for", the answer should be self-evident. I've seen this reproach too, and countless times before. The fallacy in this way of thinking, lies is in that character death somehow means the end of roleplaying. Just because a character dies doesn't mean that they have to "stop playing the game". Hop back in and start anew. Especially if you were blown up by some alien power or force while frolicking haphazardly in the meadows of a setting you knew to be freely-accepting of the precarious danger and possibility. This aforementioned "fear" was also in regards to our discussion held in chatterbox, in the subject pertaining to Death Matches and PvP ( as bouts are called here ), @Die Shize mentioned that the "problem is most people don’t want to lose their PCs and most roleplay on Val is non-PVP". However, I would also extend this attribute to be a prevailing characteristic of roleplayers even seen outside of Valcure. It's a natural sentiment, and our discussion has to do, in some part, with how to deal with it healthily.
  13. "Anything goes" might not be an on-the-nose summation of what I was positing before, at least, not the way it's been misconstrued. Just the opposite, I believe that there is, and should be, praxis in rolepay. What I'm arguing, however, is what that praxis should be, especially when dealing with adversity in roleplays, themselves. @Die Shize @supernal @jaistlyn @The Alexandrian In this artform, you relinquish total autonomy over a story and its fate, the moment you resign to build it with someone else; such is the nature of interactive storytelling, and the nature of what you and I call "roleplaying". What is often remissly consigned to total oblivion and absence of due consideration in many roleplaying communities, is that in the broad scope of this interactive artform, the only thing we have any real and inherent "autonomy" over, whatsoever, are the characters we use to interact within it; and even this governorship does not necessarily vouchsafe to us the leisurely privilege to "void" or retconn whole interactions by virtue of an unwanted conflict, hardship, adversity, or hostility met within a narrative simply because our characters wind up at their adverse ends, especially when we refer to the that fact that roleplaying is innately interactive, and more importantly, contributive. If you want some unshared dominion over the narrative, full control over the trajectory of that story and its inevitable outcome, or of how the characters subject, interact with and reciprocate one another, write a book; if you enjoy the concept of collaborative world-building, but are still mildly discomforted by the idea of interacting in a world that does not, in some way, shape or form, bend to your desires for predetermination or prefixation, or of whose characters, do not innately yield to your preferential standards and expectations, you have the option to assert preclusion through prefaced rules and the like. I understand that there does exist a certain argument pertaining to those things that are theme and setting, that there are characters who may merely exist in a story all but bereft of "combat" and other, unique incarnations of conflict, so and so forth; and, I cannot stress enough, there is nothing flawed about the predisposition for commonality and furthermore nothing wrong with its enforcement -- where that predisposition is righted to be enforced, however. The desire for preference is understandable, certainly; you may not want fiery hellspawns, complete with talons and acid breath, sullying the heartfelt mood of that romantic high school roleplay you've worked so hard to build over the years; you may not want some advanced, military drone, outfitted with a number of ballistic armaments and the like, crashing down on the ball of your sexy Victorian, vampire drama. However, to step into environments which, by contrast, host liberty ( or open-world ) interactions, while expecting others to yield to those preferences in these interactions, or furthermore, a desire for some fixed outcome within them, just because our characters are made inclusive, or just because we'd hate to see our favorite badass god of space and time defeated, or even killed, is not a premise without its own fair share of glaring faults; we should not be engaged in interactions that are explicitly open-world, if we are not willing to fully immerse ourselves in the boundless possibility of the experience in the first place. What I mean by "open-world", is the liberty to act, with our characters, as we intend; interactions that do not have an asserted standard for the nature of what that roleplay should be beyond Valcure's pervasive standards in-story, and the prostration to T1 etiquette; interactions, where I don't have to message anyone "on the side" for permission on what my character intends to do; where my character is free to engage in conflict, and even become its sourcepool. I know that Valcure is home to many of these kinds of roleplays. In many hypothetical-scenarios I have given, ones that take place in the breadth of these open-world settings, those that give birth to natural in-character conflict, a peculiar rhetoric seems to be the favored declamation for player reaction; "I don't do combative roleplaying", and my response is "no one is asking you to." Some of you have developed a fine reproach for combative roleplaying, and some of you, may merely have characters that lack the means to be adequately combative; there is no vice in either of these things, inherently. However, we need to understand that combative roleplaying is twofold, and is very much a mutualistic sport; which means, that when that seven foot orc slings his weighty steel mallet at your character in some explosive fit of rage, no one is demanding that your glittering fae "fight" back, or that it does anything beyond its natural inclination to do, but be mindful of the fact that just because it can't fight back, doesn't mean that the interaction can't go on, or that it is somehow magically due for annul. I am certain that a wealthy demographic of you prefer a strict adherence to impassive roles and parts, of characters who are alienated from combat, but the consequences that come with playing these roles in a precarious open-world setting, needs to be thoroughly ascertained when you do; there is an unhealthy expectation many roleplayers have that asserts the notion that the world should pander to the survivability of a character in favor of one's attachment to them. Conflict, even if foreign, spontaneous and unexpected, should not be looked upon as some universal impediment to roleplay's progression, but as a fun wall to climb -- one that incentivizes the purpose to proceed. When we refer to liberty interactions, scenarios like these don't have to be cause for an interaction's inconclusive demise just because your character winds up at the bitter end of the shaft; when my character goes to try and push @Die Shize's off his swing, it doesn't have to be "ignored" simply because you weren't looking for trouble, and it shouldn't. As roleplayers, as writers and as storybuilders, this is where I stress the importance of adhering to the roles we play, and to an honoring of innovation. When your weak and fearful dwarven elf is overcome by something mightier than itself, it should be fleeing or cowering, doing whatever was written by its author to do in that circumstance; that is the nature of a "role", and extensively roleplaying. And yes, as much as it may be difficult to accept, characters do die, and naturally so; the prospects of character death shouldn't be looked upon with some pandemic fear or paranoia. When we speak of contribution, which, like a game of Exquisite Corpse, represents the nature of interactive story-telling -- as a pastime vitally dependent on what its participants can add and give, to draw the portrait, death in a narrative can lend bountiful harvests to the life and fulfillment of a story and its progression beyond the character's; because, in this artform, it should never be forgotten, that our characters are merely instruments for that progression in the end. All too often do we slobber obsessively over the role of our characters above the stories and worlds they exist in -- focus, far too heavily on what it is our character's can glean from the world as opposed to what the world can glean from our characters, which, in this broad stroking artform, highlights a great need for change.
  14. Valushia

    Alterion AMA

    I was told that the precarious Izral setting is one freely accepting of character death, among many other perils. I was re-directed both here and to Izral’s RoE in my desire to take part, but I am still left uncertain as to how I would be able to join, and what constraints ( if any ) would be placed on my character — save for, of course, the obvious prostration to T1. I am still learning how to wield this site’s format for navigation, not to mention its “customs”, so please forgive my ignorance.
  15. To sting even Apollo’s pristine cheeks with the roseate blush of flustering self-doubt; to earn the petulant wrench of that bounteous face of fire and fury, to shatter the unbroken placidity of sterling poise and equanimity said to prevail in the tempers of all noble gods; it was, unmistakably, a feat that none but a creature as gorgeously superb as Valushia could ever fulfill, truly. Envy. In all ways, the word merely flunked the means to encapsulate the snarling portrait of Apollo's jaded mien, or his bow, blackened and twisted, now, by the wretches of prejudice and detest; far too simple was it a word to ascribe his ire, too drab to ever assign its supernal ugliness. And surely, if an infantile mankind could wholly witness the terror of such a thing, see the hideous arrows aligned to that jealous bow’s godly silk and golden twine, drawn with such divine spite, then they would recognize one Valushia as their journey's scornful end, and shudder before the prospects. For each time the bounteous warrior shed his blade to usher its symphony of steel unto the battlefield and that vengeful god hearkened its serene trill, he vied that sabotage was the only way to prove his beauty paramount, still; to posit, verily, that no such being as he could walk this earth so miraculously without leaving behind some equally marvelous calamity in its wake. Natural waning cessation never tailored the fate of that sword’s symphonic steel brandish; just the opposite, the ambient propagation of its sonorous ring wed itself to an alien spike in amplitude and intensity. Transient Will bent the resonant hum of that blade’s iron serenade; transformed its sweet, mellifluous tune into a piercing metallic shriek surely no human instrument could ever take credit. But, to properly understand the phenomena at hand, let us recall, momentarily, the subject formerly defined; the universe; specifically, the relevance of its highest governing aspect, energy. We call it “governing” because it is energy that ultimately dictates the defining characteristics of physical reality. Matter, at its most basic, rudimentary and intimately observed level, is, after all the construct of ubiquitous energy-pattern configuration. If we look upon the nature of Creation, and most pertinently matter itself, which we know to be the fundamental building-block and integral constituent of our material world, we can aptly deduce that it is invariably defined by the decree of this governing aspect; physical reality, as we have come to understand it, is merely the byproduct of unique and complex assortments of energy-patterns permeating throughout otherwise empty pockets of space. These flourishing streams of energy and the worldly features their matrimony is responsible for giving birth, proffers directive, and most importantly, concretion, to the idiosyncratic nature of the subject in question; for this, it can be said that the Creation and its design, is intrinsically realized here, in the bosom of this intricacy. More germanely, such monumental tapestries of intrinsic foundation and design are transcribed by a unique spatial signature called frequency, which signifies the instructive blueprint for physicality. This was how the advanced hyper-dimensional interpreted their reality, with consciousness functioning as a transcendent “machine” for ambiguous universal computation. Despite the charm of their marigold shine, he had absolutely no need for optics, because his gander was existential; and he recognized the Nymph the very instant she stepped foot on the verdurous battlefield, meandered into the iron serenade of his sword’s resounding battle cry and into the web of this arachnid’s grand ensnarement. It was worthy to note, moreover, that because the Transient's existential consciousness was not anchored to physicality, the celerity of this calibration was superluminal. It was important to remember that Valushia’s physical body was a preternatural gestation of autonomous Transient energy; every facet about him, down to resplendent sheen on that broadsword's noble iron surface, was kept and shaped by Will ( energy in motion ), or consciousness; and again, it was this autonomy that facilitated his interaction with pervasive energy-pattern schematic, and by extension, an abounding physical plane. Thanking that aptitude, all respects belonged to that malleable assemblage some might’ve called a “body”, thereby reflected the Transient’s realm of dominion, that being energy-pattern fabrication and arrangement; and as a byproduct of this sophistication, so too did his blade’s sinister call and screech personify the spread of his Will. Henceforth, when that reverberation rang out, pierced the quietude about that wet marshland as it did, the preternatural began masterfully tailoring its resounding frequency to the signal of the newly arrived precisely upon assessing her; this explained the immediate bend of that hum's pitch and amplitude when she rendezvou'd there. Its drastic transfiguration represented the Transient entity's swift alteration of the singsong’s vibrational signature, and its desired resolution would mold itself after one inspiring blueprint: Lorial. Yes, to match what he’d received from his assimilation of the girl, he aspired to affix the frequency of that sonorous ring to that of her own. The purpose behind this identical energy-web formation was to, no doubt, effectuate a very simple phenomena — resonance. Like Opera singers attuning their hymns to the wine glass, the same shattering implications rang preeminent here; the only distinction was scale. No two things interacting could emanate parallel frequency autographs without culminating in the parlous breadth of that annihilation, and this synchronous weave was intended to bring about exactly that, only this time, the aim of this destructive synth wave was none other than the emerald-draped, ebon haired beauty before him. If all things went accordingly, in the instance that blade’s wailing requiem was unleashed, this enactment would obliterate her; break the totality of her body, and shatter the very plinth responsible for sustaining physicality. However, such an outcome was solely predicated on the presumption that the warrioress lacked the sufficiency of design to prevail against the might of that entailing ruination. This was her chance to defy those odds. Though as it was said, Valushia was never wrong in his prognosis of battle's prospects, nor of their ends, the Vampire-Nymph halfling was all but testimony of that, and further outspread of that tenuous coil blessing supple blue lips, boasted the vain satisfaction he gained from knowing it. But, equally, the spectral swordsman lusted for some revelation of that verdict's flaw; some baleful reckoning that fell from the unbosom of this one's true merit. It was before this bright orison, that ivory canines were evermore drawn to fashion the superlative beam of battle's bliss; fervent, gluttonous marbles of golden exquisitry, once unmarried to form or profile, resolutely set themselves upon the prophesied Vampire youngling midst her curious amble unto the marsh and into the serenade of iron brandish; fair lids only retracted behind their respective orbs to denote the phantom-warrior’s fanatic worship of her femme temple. He prayed that this was the shrine that would set him free.
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