Why do you want to be a part of this server?: I'm fond of the steampunk aesthetic and couldn't find any roleplaying servers that particularly compelled me, so I'm giving this server a shot. The airships are especially interesting.
Have you read the rules?: Yes, I've read the rules.
IC:
Name: Aranamor Lariviere
Age: 28
RP example:
"I'm sorry, but are you actually serious? I have to fly in this jalopy? How in the nine hells is this a safe or good idea?"
"It's all we have in your price bracket, sir."
Aran sighed. He never did trust airship vendors. Getting off the ground was unpleasant enough to begin with, but in this day and age, it was impossible not to have at least a small craft and expect to make any actual progress. Aran wiped the sweat off his brow and continued looking over the ship. It was a rusty old thing, tears in the wings, bent pipes, the whole thing looked about ready to fall apart at a moment's notice. Nevertheless, it's what he could afford.
"Fine. I'll take it. But I expect the engine to at least be fixed!"
"Very well sir, I'll get some mechanics right on it!"
Aran turned and walked back to his satchel. It was an old burlap thing, only a single pocket. Resting upon it was a two and a half foot shillelagh. The shillelagh was a beautiful yet worn thing. Crafted from oakwood, for blackthorn had become all too rare, it had runes of an old language burned down the length of the shaft. Wrapped about it were three thick bands of aluminum wire, and the bottom was shod in bronze. It was a prized possession, and while it simply looked to be an attractive walking stick to the average viewer, to Aran it was a symbol of his values, his roots, and his resolve. The fact that it could stave in a rogue machine or a mutant's cranium in was a pleasant side effect.
"It's about done, sir. Will you be departing immediately?"
"Not quite yet, thank you. How much will that be again?"
"Twenty-five hundred pounds, sir. Best price you'll get anywhere."
"Somehow I'm not convinced, but I'm in no position to argue."
Aran sighed again and lifted his satchel, leaning upon his shillelagh. He looked down the length of it, checking for any cracks from his last skirmish with a particularly irate clockwork archer. Satisfied with it's condition, he turned to the salesman.
"I'll return to pick it up in the morning, I've business to handle in town."
"Yes sir, we'll keep it safe while you're out! Our pleasure to serve!"
"Thank you, kind sir. I trust it won't come to harm in your hands?"
Aran turned and walked away down the streets of the metropolis. He hated CoG towns. So orderly, so soulless. Every worker functioning like clockwork, with nary a care for their own wellbeing, or indeed that of others. He spat. I'm just here on business, he reminded himself. No need to get so worked up. Continuing down the road, he turned a corner towards a large but ill-kept townhouse. Shifting his satchel into a better position and cleaning his well-worn jacket, he knocked at the great door to come face to face with a mechanical butler. Stupid machines, soulless as the COGs, but at least they had an excuse. The machine clicked and chattered as it came to life and it's crude AI began to function. Copper powered, not even any redstone to give it sentience.
"WEL-COME MAS-TER LA-RI-VI-ERE." the machine clicked out, gears grinding as it prepared for a response.
"Hello Machine, I am here to see your mistress. Is she available?"
"YES MAS-TER LA-RI-VI-ERE. SHE IS WAIT-ING IN THE DIN-ING ROOM. SHALL I ES-CORT YOU?" the machine wirred and clicked.
"That's quite alright, Machine. I will find her myself."
"PLEAS-URE TO SERVE."
The robotic butler clicked and moved aside to allow Aran passage, staring motionlessly at him. Aran paid it no mind and continued on his way to the dining room, passing through a hallway filled with ship-based memorabilia. He'd never understand his friend's interest in nautical travel, but then again, he had never really learned to swim. Opening the door to the dining room, he was greeted by a petite woman, slightly younger than him. An energetic girl with a penchant for ships, she had been one of the few people in COG territory that Aran could call a friend.
"Aran, how have you been? I haven't seen you in town for months!"
"I've been well. I've come to procure an airship, and the cheapest one I could find was in this district. It's wonderful to see you, Rachel."
Rachel smiled and sent for the robotic butler, ordering it to set a place at the table. The machine emerged from the kitchen after some time, setting a plate of food in front of Aran. For all it's faults, Aran had to admit that the machine was a good cook. He hadn't had a proper dinner in quite some time. The night went on and they made small talk on subjects ranging from travels to ships to the newest innovations in redstone technology. Aran always enjoyed her company, and the feeling was mutual.
"So what are all the ship models for? I never understood why you keep so many when the nearest ocean is being used as a ruddy dumping ground."
"I want to join Concordia. I've grown weary of COG and it's lawfulness."
"Are you sure? I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of you consorting with mercenaries."
"As if you could stop me, you wouldn't hit me even if you could land a hit in the first place."
"Fair enough, just be careful."
"So where are you headed then?"
"Me? I'm joining The Bones."
"The rebels? I'd heard about them. I put little stock in what I hear on the radio, but aren't they building a massive tank? Surely that's not entirely safe."
"I intend to find out, and lend a hand if possible. I don't care terribly for their methods, but they are effective."
"Are you sure? I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of you consorting with anarchists."
"As if you could stop me, you wouldn't hit me even if you could land a hit in the first place."
There was silence for a full minute before both parties began to laugh hysterically. The rest of the night was spent in the company of one another, and come morning, they both prepared for their new lives in the faction wars. Aran stood at the doorstep and greeted his friend goodbye and good luck, and began to head back to the shipyard. Upon arrival, he noticed his ship to be missing.
"What happened!? Aran exclaimed.
"We...we lost the ship."
Aran swore and demanded a refund, which was refused under an obscure clause in the contract.
"You're incredibly lucky that I don't push you into the bay. How does one lose a ship?"
"It was highjacked last night! I swear!"
"Fine. Where was it headed when you last saw?"
"Towards a COG encampment, the military impounded it!"
Aran, now short twenty-five hundred pounds and an airship set off in the direction of the Bones local chapter. He'd spent far too much time and money on that ship, and he'd be damned if he lost it now. Steadying himself on his staff, he hoisted his satchel and began the fourty mile march to camp. Ever a believer in Finangle's Law, he wasn't terribly surprised, but felt slighted all the same.
Bio: Aran was raised in a rural farming community for most of his life. Unlike most archetypical heroes, he didn't suffer any particular tragedy or lose parents or have his home burnt down by stormtroopers. He simply decided he didn't like COG, didn't like that his town was now a redstone quarry, and didn't like the propaganda posters plastered all over occupied towns. Easy to anger, quick to think on his feet, Aran distrusts steam and redstone technology, preferring to rely on simple mechanisms, and has a supreme distaste for flight. Aran likes his tea black with lots of sugar, and hates killer robots. He has the utmost trust in his staff, even if it takes forever to destroy something with it. The staff is represented in game as a stick and later a blaze rod after he joins the rebellion and attacks a COG base in the Cellar Dimension.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Patience up to a point. Know your time, but work your wyrd always.”
OOC:
IGN: that_person12345
Age: 16
Why do you want to be a part of this server? Steampunk + Minecraft. My question is, why would I not want to be part of this server?
Have you read the rules? why yes i have
IC:
Name: Litren
Age: 26
RP example: (Litren is in a junkyard looking for anything of value)
"what is this?" *Litren removes some of the overlaying scrap metal* "this steam engine is in almost perfect condition, this could be worth a fortune."
*A man comes out from behind a mound of junk* "Step away from that, its in our territory."
"Your territory? Last time i checked this was a COG junkyard."
"well i guess you will need some more convincing" *4 other people come out from different sides around Litren* "This is our area and it looks like you also found somthing that belongs to us. Leave the engine behind and go home, so we dont have to force you too. Well heck, once we are done with you I doubt you'll be able to ever go home again."
"Well looks like this day got a lot more intesting. Well im sorry but i dont think running away from a fight is in my agenda today." *Litren reaches for his holistered flintlock pistol*
"Come on there are 5 of us and 1 of you theres no way you will get out of here alive. Plus you got one dead eye. You probably couldnt even shoot me from sveral feet away"
"Well it looks like you are about to find out" *Litren raises his pistol toward the man*
Bio:When Litren was about 1 year old he was left behind by his parants at a public water pump. A old nomad named Trince found Litren by the pump when he was getting water for his next journy. He took Litren into his care and taught him evrything he knew. Trince was a father to Litren and his only real family. They traveled across the land calling no one place their home. When Litren was 18 Trince died from a disease when he became very weak. This left Litren traviling alone across the land. Going from one place to another using the skills Trince taught him. Litren was 25 when the Bones attacked the COG and killed all the rulers. Now at 26 Litren feels that he needs to choose a side and leave the nomadic life for good.
Litren is quite resourceful and cunning, but sometimes has too big of a head. He never runs from a fight even when the odds are against him. He is blind in his right eye and wears a patch over it, it has been that way ever since he was born. Even though he has no sight in his right eye he has an amazing shot. He usually doesnt think about the needs of other people or how what he does will effect others. Once he joins a faction it will drastically change the way he functions because he has never worked together with anyone but Trince.
hey rev i noticed you have been bitchy about people's suggestions. I, being the **** you know and love, must prove you wrong about someones suggestion. This video proves someones point.
hey rev i noticed you have been bitchy about people's suggestions. I, being the **** you know and love, must prove you wrong about someones suggestion. This video proves someones point.
I am still saying no to mechs, you realize this right?
Due to if we technically get a mech plugin it would be extremely stressful to our server.
sorry I ment Trade routs not train routs
Make your own trade routes between places, mark up safe and fast ways or something
Well first question was to rev because she's the leader of the Concordium.
Second question, don't you guys have to install a mod for the money system?
We have the money plugin
IGN:Aranamor321
Age:15
Why do you want to be a part of this server?: I'm fond of the steampunk aesthetic and couldn't find any roleplaying servers that particularly compelled me, so I'm giving this server a shot. The airships are especially interesting.
Have you read the rules?: Yes, I've read the rules.
IC:
Name: Aranamor Lariviere
Age: 28
RP example:
"I'm sorry, but are you actually serious? I have to fly in this jalopy? How in the nine hells is this a safe or good idea?"
"It's all we have in your price bracket, sir."
Aran sighed. He never did trust airship vendors. Getting off the ground was unpleasant enough to begin with, but in this day and age, it was impossible not to have at least a small craft and expect to make any actual progress. Aran wiped the sweat off his brow and continued looking over the ship. It was a rusty old thing, tears in the wings, bent pipes, the whole thing looked about ready to fall apart at a moment's notice. Nevertheless, it's what he could afford.
"Fine. I'll take it. But I expect the engine to at least be fixed!"
"Very well sir, I'll get some mechanics right on it!"
Aran turned and walked back to his satchel. It was an old burlap thing, only a single pocket. Resting upon it was a two and a half foot shillelagh. The shillelagh was a beautiful yet worn thing. Crafted from oakwood, for blackthorn had become all too rare, it had runes of an old language burned down the length of the shaft. Wrapped about it were three thick bands of aluminum wire, and the bottom was shod in bronze. It was a prized possession, and while it simply looked to be an attractive walking stick to the average viewer, to Aran it was a symbol of his values, his roots, and his resolve. The fact that it could stave in a rogue machine or a mutant's cranium in was a pleasant side effect.
"It's about done, sir. Will you be departing immediately?"
"Not quite yet, thank you. How much will that be again?"
"Twenty-five hundred pounds, sir. Best price you'll get anywhere."
"Somehow I'm not convinced, but I'm in no position to argue."
Aran sighed again and lifted his satchel, leaning upon his shillelagh. He looked down the length of it, checking for any cracks from his last skirmish with a particularly irate clockwork archer. Satisfied with it's condition, he turned to the salesman.
"I'll return to pick it up in the morning, I've business to handle in town."
"Yes sir, we'll keep it safe while you're out! Our pleasure to serve!"
"Thank you, kind sir. I trust it won't come to harm in your hands?"
Aran turned and walked away down the streets of the metropolis. He hated CoG towns. So orderly, so soulless. Every worker functioning like clockwork, with nary a care for their own wellbeing, or indeed that of others. He spat. I'm just here on business, he reminded himself. No need to get so worked up. Continuing down the road, he turned a corner towards a large but ill-kept townhouse. Shifting his satchel into a better position and cleaning his well-worn jacket, he knocked at the great door to come face to face with a mechanical butler. Stupid machines, soulless as the COGs, but at least they had an excuse. The machine clicked and chattered as it came to life and it's crude AI began to function. Copper powered, not even any redstone to give it sentience.
"WEL-COME MAS-TER LA-RI-VI-ERE." the machine clicked out, gears grinding as it prepared for a response.
"Hello Machine, I am here to see your mistress. Is she available?"
"YES MAS-TER LA-RI-VI-ERE. SHE IS WAIT-ING IN THE DIN-ING ROOM. SHALL I ES-CORT YOU?" the machine wirred and clicked.
"That's quite alright, Machine. I will find her myself."
"PLEAS-URE TO SERVE."
The robotic butler clicked and moved aside to allow Aran passage, staring motionlessly at him. Aran paid it no mind and continued on his way to the dining room, passing through a hallway filled with ship-based memorabilia. He'd never understand his friend's interest in nautical travel, but then again, he had never really learned to swim. Opening the door to the dining room, he was greeted by a petite woman, slightly younger than him. An energetic girl with a penchant for ships, she had been one of the few people in COG territory that Aran could call a friend.
"Aran, how have you been? I haven't seen you in town for months!"
"I've been well. I've come to procure an airship, and the cheapest one I could find was in this district. It's wonderful to see you, Rachel."
Rachel smiled and sent for the robotic butler, ordering it to set a place at the table. The machine emerged from the kitchen after some time, setting a plate of food in front of Aran. For all it's faults, Aran had to admit that the machine was a good cook. He hadn't had a proper dinner in quite some time. The night went on and they made small talk on subjects ranging from travels to ships to the newest innovations in redstone technology. Aran always enjoyed her company, and the feeling was mutual.
"So what are all the ship models for? I never understood why you keep so many when the nearest ocean is being used as a ruddy dumping ground."
"I want to join Concordia. I've grown weary of COG and it's lawfulness."
"Are you sure? I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of you consorting with mercenaries."
"As if you could stop me, you wouldn't hit me even if you could land a hit in the first place."
"Fair enough, just be careful."
"So where are you headed then?"
"Me? I'm joining The Bones."
"The rebels? I'd heard about them. I put little stock in what I hear on the radio, but aren't they building a massive tank? Surely that's not entirely safe."
"I intend to find out, and lend a hand if possible. I don't care terribly for their methods, but they are effective."
"Are you sure? I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of you consorting with anarchists."
"As if you could stop me, you wouldn't hit me even if you could land a hit in the first place."
There was silence for a full minute before both parties began to laugh hysterically. The rest of the night was spent in the company of one another, and come morning, they both prepared for their new lives in the faction wars. Aran stood at the doorstep and greeted his friend goodbye and good luck, and began to head back to the shipyard. Upon arrival, he noticed his ship to be missing.
"What happened!? Aran exclaimed.
"We...we lost the ship."
Aran swore and demanded a refund, which was refused under an obscure clause in the contract.
"You're incredibly lucky that I don't push you into the bay. How does one lose a ship?"
"It was highjacked last night! I swear!"
"Fine. Where was it headed when you last saw?"
"Towards a COG encampment, the military impounded it!"
Aran, now short twenty-five hundred pounds and an airship set off in the direction of the Bones local chapter. He'd spent far too much time and money on that ship, and he'd be damned if he lost it now. Steadying himself on his staff, he hoisted his satchel and began the fourty mile march to camp. Ever a believer in Finangle's Law, he wasn't terribly surprised, but felt slighted all the same.
Bio: Aran was raised in a rural farming community for most of his life. Unlike most archetypical heroes, he didn't suffer any particular tragedy or lose parents or have his home burnt down by stormtroopers. He simply decided he didn't like COG, didn't like that his town was now a redstone quarry, and didn't like the propaganda posters plastered all over occupied towns. Easy to anger, quick to think on his feet, Aran distrusts steam and redstone technology, preferring to rely on simple mechanisms, and has a supreme distaste for flight. Aran likes his tea black with lots of sugar, and hates killer robots. He has the utmost trust in his staff, even if it takes forever to destroy something with it. The staff is represented in game as a stick and later a blaze rod after he joins the rebellion and attacks a COG base in the Cellar Dimension.
“Patience up to a point. Know your time, but work your wyrd always.”
I gusta this app, we can't spawn you any items though, accepted
“Patience up to a point. Know your time, but work your wyrd always.”
When I'm not home it takes a bit, won't be home for 2.5 hours
Glad you added/fixed those.
IGN: that_person12345
Age: 16
Why do you want to be a part of this server? Steampunk + Minecraft. My question is, why would I not want to be part of this server?
Have you read the rules? why yes i have
IC:
Name: Litren
Age: 26
RP example: (Litren is in a junkyard looking for anything of value)
"what is this?" *Litren removes some of the overlaying scrap metal* "this steam engine is in almost perfect condition, this could be worth a fortune."
*A man comes out from behind a mound of junk* "Step away from that, its in our territory."
"Your territory? Last time i checked this was a COG junkyard."
"well i guess you will need some more convincing" *4 other people come out from different sides around Litren* "This is our area and it looks like you also found somthing that belongs to us. Leave the engine behind and go home, so we dont have to force you too. Well heck, once we are done with you I doubt you'll be able to ever go home again."
"Well looks like this day got a lot more intesting. Well im sorry but i dont think running away from a fight is in my agenda today." *Litren reaches for his holistered flintlock pistol*
"Come on there are 5 of us and 1 of you theres no way you will get out of here alive. Plus you got one dead eye. You probably couldnt even shoot me from sveral feet away"
"Well it looks like you are about to find out" *Litren raises his pistol toward the man*
Bio:When Litren was about 1 year old he was left behind by his parants at a public water pump. A old nomad named Trince found Litren by the pump when he was getting water for his next journy. He took Litren into his care and taught him evrything he knew. Trince was a father to Litren and his only real family. They traveled across the land calling no one place their home. When Litren was 18 Trince died from a disease when he became very weak. This left Litren traviling alone across the land. Going from one place to another using the skills Trince taught him. Litren was 25 when the Bones attacked the COG and killed all the rulers. Now at 26 Litren feels that he needs to choose a side and leave the nomadic life for good.
Litren is quite resourceful and cunning, but sometimes has too big of a head. He never runs from a fight even when the odds are against him. He is blind in his right eye and wears a patch over it, it has been that way ever since he was born. Even though he has no sight in his right eye he has an amazing shot. He usually doesnt think about the needs of other people or how what he does will effect others. Once he joins a faction it will drastically change the way he functions because he has never worked together with anyone but Trince.
accepted
Cool story, banned person.
Edit:
OP and rules editted.
Making more setions in forum for people to post in.
I am still saying no to mechs, you realize this right?
Due to if we technically get a mech plugin it would be extremely stressful to our server.
I know I just wanted to prove you wrong. Mostly because you have become a nazi.
I have explained my bad mood.
I will try to get on server this weekend, however my birthday is this friday and will be possibly celebrating so I may not be on as much.
Editedit:
Fixed rules.