Writing Expertise: What an odd question. I began writing since I could write, for school and all. I tried my hand in the school's annual writing competition starting from the third grade, though I never got anywhere with it. Writing has always been a hobby for me, just a thing to do when life begins to pile its stress on and I need to find some way to cool down.
Commissioned Writing: Besides the sheer multitude of essays, stories, prompts, and analyses I have written over the course of many years of school, I have also written several threads to help advertise various Minecraft servers.
Examples: Well, I wrote this one, though I believe the server is dead and gone now. As for actual story writing, I wrote up this on a whim. Never continued it...pity.
Athoria: You've already gotten my first thoughts on what the name brings up.
Bonus: As I said before, I'm not the person who you can count on to be online all day, every day. But I hold the hopes that the job of lore writer will be less time-based and more commission-based, so I'm going to fill this form out.
Unfortunately, being the ever-so-busy high-school student that so commonly plagues the abysses of the internet, I can't afford to tie myself down to any jobs like this. As the saying goes, "Don't make promises you can't keep," and I would hate to have to let anyone down.
But I saw the name "Athoria" and couldn't help but start... thinking. If I had to guess, I'd say you had taken the words "Aether" and latin suffix "-aria" and fiddled around with them for a bit, but regardless of its origins it's still a nice name.
So here's my little spin on it. I'd love to track the progress of this server, especially the lore - perhaps you could update your forum post or website with it every so often? I'd be willing to pitch in my two cents every once in a while too; after all, one can only study for so long before having to cool down a bit.
Harry pounded the mug on the bar table twice, belching as he did so. “Oi!” he shouted. “Barnes, fill me up!” When he received no immediate response, he banged the table a couple more times. “Barnes, you indecent son of a silverfish, get over here before my buzz wears off!”
The “Barnes” fellow in question walked out of the employee’s door with an annoyed expression on his face. “By Notch’s beard,” he grumbled, “Everyone’s gone home to their families and I have to take care of you.” Taking out of a large jug, he expertly filled Harry’s mug to the brim without wasting a single drop. “Don’t you have any place to go for Thanksgiving?”
Harry flashed a smile, exposing a colorful arrangement of yellow and black teeth. “Ah, you know me, Barnes. Why settle down when I can fly around the world, seeing things you common folk can’t even dream of?”
“Oh, please,” Barnes scoffed, “And what amazing things have you been seeing, exactly? Must have been quite the something, to have you always run back here eventually, drinking more than a dwarf on his day off.”
Harry started to chortle, his dirty beard turning a deep shade of red as he splashed ale all over the table and himself. He actually did look quite like a dwarf on his day off, thought Barnes disapprovingly.
After his fit of laughing, Harry reached into his pocket and brought out a scroll. Elvish design, noticed Barnes, and an ornate one too. Not something Harry would ordinarily be carrying about.
“Where’d you get that?” asked Barnes. “We’re supposed to have a trade embargo with the elves!”
“Not these elves.” Harry snickered. “Guess whose exploration group found the first independent elven nation since Verath?” He held out the scroll to Barnes. “I’m supposed to get this to the prime minister pronto, but a man’s gotta celebrate, right? Take a look.”
Still skeptical but curious, Barnes tentatively told a hold of the expensive scroll and unrolled it. His eyes moved across the silk paper and he began to read out loud.
To our Prime Minister:
As you can likely gather from the workmanship of this message, the tree grown by our persistent efforts and your undying support has finally bore its fruit. And what a delightful fruit it is, for I believe we have discovered the largest elven nation since the Republic of Verath. The land itself is a thing of wonder. Enriched with numerous geysers that provide a constant supply of the richest, most pure mana I have ever seen, it is no wonder that the elves here are as advanced and cultured as they are. The terrain, just the small portion of it that I have seen, varies at an incredible level, with snow-capped mountains easily twice high that of our tallest peaks, lush rain-forests so deep that trees grow upon trees, and rolling plains so vast that our fastest zeppelin would take at least a month to cross. Everywhere you go, the air is sweet and awash with the calming odor of magic and nature. This is what our ancestors must have experienced, so many generations ago, when they first stepped upon what is now our homeland. But unlike our homeland, this continent has managed to be populated without losing an inch of its splendor – a feat, in my opinion, to rival that of any of the wonders here. The elves here, if you can imagine, have never seen a steam engine. They saw our fleet of zeppelins like a form of magic itself, for they have never had the need to revert to technology. Their magic is not sparse, not dirty and impure like ours, and their lives reflect upon that stark difference. The elves have managed to create their homesteads, thriving communities and complete towns, in places we wouldn't even be able to reach. Floating homes, connected to each other with transparent glimmering mana bridges, orbit around the peaks of their mountains, drawing energy from vents in the mountainside. Thousands of leagues under the sea, large domes of pure mana protect massive underwater cities, and in the jungles, the towns are as tall as they are wide. Even in the places where we humans could normally build, they have created masterpieces so massive and so grand that it would put the greatest architects of our history to shame. My mind still reels from their capital city, a gargantuan spiral structure from bedrock to the ceiling of the world, with each step as large as one of our rural towns. This is the Promised Land, my good sir. I cannot even do it justice through words. All there is left to conclude is the confirmation that you shall not be disappointed. I eagerly await your visit, Prime Minister, here at Ezylar, capital city of Athoria, nation of the free elves.
With unbridled excitement,
Darius Merria, Chief Exploration Officer, Branch IV
Barnes looked up from the paper, his mouth formed in a perfect “o” shape. “Is this real?” was his only question.
Harry laughed again, taking the scroll back from his still astounded companion. “As I said Barnes, things you could never dream of.” He held his mug out to him. “Fill me up again, will ya?”
Greetings, all! The story below details my personal take on how the Minecraft universe came to be. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Of course, constructive criticism is always welcome, as well as any form of (polite) feedback. Now on to the story!
I – The Tide that Chaos Brings
Thirty four thousand, six hundred and seventy five.
That was the number of blocks on the island. The number of strange, cube shaped objects that made up the entirety of Steve’s world. With a single tap of his fists they disappeared into nothingness, but when he closed and reopened his eyes, every single one of them reappeared, as if nothing had ever happened.
Steve had no needs. He never hungered, nor did his blocky throat cry for water. He never tired, never weakened, never slept. For an infinite amount of time, Steve wandered on the island, never thinking, never wondering, never dreaming. He simply…was. His life was equal to that of the blocks he stood on – just present. A simple, singular, existence. Just there.
But like a leaning house of cards that tremble in a slight breeze, nothing is ever “just there” forever. A change was coming – one that would shake the foundations of the blocky world off its bedrock supports.
It started with just one action. Steve, doing the same thing he had done millions and millions of times over eons and eons, tapped his fist against a block. And like it had done millions and millions of times over eons and eons, the block broke.
But this time, something else appeared.
A tiny, rotating version of the block that Steve just broke, levitating just a couple of inches off the ground. And the shadow that it cast onto the ground – it was circular.
With a single glance at the shadow of the item, something changed within Steve. It was as if the dams of his mind, holding back all his consciousness and feeling, had cracked open and all the crazy thoughts and emotions were pouring out in a flood of revelation. Suddenly, Steve could think. Suddenly, Steve could learn. Suddenly, Steve could live!
Staring at the rotating object, a multitude of voices burst into life within Steve’s head.
Pick it up. A new world of adventure and excitement awaits.
Don’t pick it up. Do not risk the sanction of this peaceful world.
Are you not curious as to what the world out there could be? Pick it up.
Stay away from it. There is much to fear out there and nothing to fear in here.
Pick it up!
Stay away!
Pick it up!
Don’t do it!
TAKE IT!
Steve stood there for a long while, stock still as the voices battled within his mind. But finally, with a trembling arm, he slowly reached down and brought his first towards the object. But before he could touch it, the object hummed with a satisfied tone, and flew upwards – straight into Steve’s chest, sinking into his body.
He reeled back, not in surprise, but in awe of the knowledge he suddenly knew. He knew how to speak, he knew how to die, and more importantly, he knew how to live. Options opened in full blossom in front of him, showering him with millions of possible choices. Steve threw his head back and laughed his first laugh. He. Was. FREE!
But suddenly, all around him, the world began falling apart. The ground shook, cracks appeared and started to grow, the once-invincible bedrock floor started to crumble away, falling into a dark, empty void that Steve’s eyes could not comprehend. With a wide-eyed gaze, Steve backed up a fell steps, staring all around him as the world he had spent so long in turned to nothingness before his very eyes.
“What have I done?” he whispered, the first words spoken of his entire existence. “What has God wrought upon me?”
And as the last couple blocks fell away around Steve, and a spider web of cracks opened up in the block he stood on, a new voice, resounding deep within his soul, answered.
Nothing, but snapped the threads that held this fragile peace together. All that is left to do is ride the tide that chaos shall bring.
I like your idea, and I can offer the following advice to make your work more attractive for others to read:
Try to stick with one style. Using bold and italics are good in moderation, but changing around the font and color randomly is distracting and can be an eyesore at times.
Double check your work. Tiny mistakes such as spelling "believe" as "beleive", or not putting spaces after commas are easier to notice than you might think, and fixing them is a great way to make your work look much more professional.
Since others before me have already addressed the "I" abuse problem, all I can say is that the only way to fail at writing is to not write at all, and that using multiple paragraphs really help the eyes while reading. Good job so far!
Age: 14 IGN: Neverblade Experience: 13 Months Reason for Joining Server: I'm looking for a low pressure and friendly server to build on, and this one looks like a decent server to join.
IGN: Neverblade
Age: 14
Building Experience: One to one scale model of the Eiffel Tower.
Why do you want to join?: I would really like to build and try out the new creative mode. xD
Do we get to spawn materials to work with? Use world edit? I'm most used to building with both.
IGN: Neverblade
Skills: (put an X in the box) Redstone: [] Pixel Art: [] Building/structures: [X]
Proof: Image extension isn't working with photobucket.I built a 1X1 to scale model of the Eiffel Tower, which stretched from bedrock to cloud level.
WTF? We don't see Notch suing the developers of Fortresscraft, and that is by far a much greater copy than using the words SCROLLS in the title. Are the greater, mainstream companies so fearful of their position that they have to slam down on indie developers who have genuinely made something with ingenuity? This is just sad.
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Age: 15
Location: California
Writing Expertise: What an odd question. I began writing since I could write, for school and all. I tried my hand in the school's annual writing competition starting from the third grade, though I never got anywhere with it. Writing has always been a hobby for me, just a thing to do when life begins to pile its stress on and I need to find some way to cool down.
Commissioned Writing: Besides the sheer multitude of essays, stories, prompts, and analyses I have written over the course of many years of school, I have also written several threads to help advertise various Minecraft servers.
Examples: Well, I wrote this one, though I believe the server is dead and gone now. As for actual story writing, I wrote up this on a whim. Never continued it...pity.
Athoria: You've already gotten my first thoughts on what the name brings up.
Bonus: As I said before, I'm not the person who you can count on to be online all day, every day. But I hold the hopes that the job of lore writer will be less time-based and more commission-based, so I'm going to fill this form out.
0
But I saw the name "Athoria" and couldn't help but start... thinking. If I had to guess, I'd say you had taken the words "Aether" and latin suffix "-aria" and fiddled around with them for a bit, but regardless of its origins it's still a nice name.
So here's my little spin on it. I'd love to track the progress of this server, especially the lore - perhaps you could update your forum post or website with it every so often? I'd be willing to pitch in my two cents every once in a while too; after all, one can only study for so long before having to cool down a bit.
Harry pounded the mug on the bar table twice, belching as he did so. “Oi!” he shouted. “Barnes, fill me up!” When he received no immediate response, he banged the table a couple more times. “Barnes, you indecent son of a silverfish, get over here before my buzz wears off!”
The “Barnes” fellow in question walked out of the employee’s door with an annoyed expression on his face. “By Notch’s beard,” he grumbled, “Everyone’s gone home to their families and I have to take care of you.” Taking out of a large jug, he expertly filled Harry’s mug to the brim without wasting a single drop. “Don’t you have any place to go for Thanksgiving?”
Harry flashed a smile, exposing a colorful arrangement of yellow and black teeth. “Ah, you know me, Barnes. Why settle down when I can fly around the world, seeing things you common folk can’t even dream of?”
“Oh, please,” Barnes scoffed, “And what amazing things have you been seeing, exactly? Must have been quite the something, to have you always run back here eventually, drinking more than a dwarf on his day off.”
Harry started to chortle, his dirty beard turning a deep shade of red as he splashed ale all over the table and himself. He actually did look quite like a dwarf on his day off, thought Barnes disapprovingly.
After his fit of laughing, Harry reached into his pocket and brought out a scroll. Elvish design, noticed Barnes, and an ornate one too. Not something Harry would ordinarily be carrying about.
“Where’d you get that?” asked Barnes. “We’re supposed to have a trade embargo with the elves!”
“Not these elves.” Harry snickered. “Guess whose exploration group found the first independent elven nation since Verath?” He held out the scroll to Barnes. “I’m supposed to get this to the prime minister pronto, but a man’s gotta celebrate, right? Take a look.”
Still skeptical but curious, Barnes tentatively told a hold of the expensive scroll and unrolled it. His eyes moved across the silk paper and he began to read out loud.
To our Prime Minister:
As you can likely gather from the workmanship of this message, the tree grown by our persistent efforts and your undying support has finally bore its fruit. And what a delightful fruit it is, for I believe we have discovered the largest elven nation since the Republic of Verath.
The land itself is a thing of wonder. Enriched with numerous geysers that provide a constant supply of the richest, most pure mana I have ever seen, it is no wonder that the elves here are as advanced and cultured as they are. The terrain, just the small portion of it that I have seen, varies at an incredible level, with snow-capped mountains easily twice high that of our tallest peaks, lush rain-forests so deep that trees grow upon trees, and rolling plains so vast that our fastest zeppelin would take at least a month to cross. Everywhere you go, the air is sweet and awash with the calming odor of magic and nature. This is what our ancestors must have experienced, so many generations ago, when they first stepped upon what is now our homeland. But unlike our homeland, this continent has managed to be populated without losing an inch of its splendor – a feat, in my opinion, to rival that of any of the wonders here.
The elves here, if you can imagine, have never seen a steam engine. They saw our fleet of zeppelins like a form of magic itself, for they have never had the need to revert to technology. Their magic is not sparse, not dirty and impure like ours, and their lives reflect upon that stark difference. The elves have managed to create their homesteads, thriving communities and complete towns, in places we wouldn't even be able to reach. Floating homes, connected to each other with transparent glimmering mana bridges, orbit around the peaks of their mountains, drawing energy from vents in the mountainside. Thousands of leagues under the sea, large domes of pure mana protect massive underwater cities, and in the jungles, the towns are as tall as they are wide. Even in the places where we humans could normally build, they have created masterpieces so massive and so grand that it would put the greatest architects of our history to shame. My mind still reels from their capital city, a gargantuan spiral structure from bedrock to the ceiling of the world, with each step as large as one of our rural towns.
This is the Promised Land, my good sir. I cannot even do it justice through words. All there is left to conclude is the confirmation that you shall not be disappointed. I eagerly await your visit, Prime Minister, here at Ezylar, capital city of Athoria, nation of the free elves.
Barnes looked up from the paper, his mouth formed in a perfect “o” shape. “Is this real?” was his only question.
Harry laughed again, taking the scroll back from his still astounded companion. “As I said Barnes, things you could never dream of.” He held his mug out to him. “Fill me up again, will ya?”
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0
I – The Tide that Chaos Brings
Thirty four thousand, six hundred and seventy five.
That was the number of blocks on the island. The number of strange, cube shaped objects that made up the entirety of Steve’s world. With a single tap of his fists they disappeared into nothingness, but when he closed and reopened his eyes, every single one of them reappeared, as if nothing had ever happened.
Steve had no needs. He never hungered, nor did his blocky throat cry for water. He never tired, never weakened, never slept. For an infinite amount of time, Steve wandered on the island, never thinking, never wondering, never dreaming. He simply…was. His life was equal to that of the blocks he stood on – just present. A simple, singular, existence. Just there.
But like a leaning house of cards that tremble in a slight breeze, nothing is ever “just there” forever. A change was coming – one that would shake the foundations of the blocky world off its bedrock supports.
It started with just one action. Steve, doing the same thing he had done millions and millions of times over eons and eons, tapped his fist against a block. And like it had done millions and millions of times over eons and eons, the block broke.
But this time, something else appeared.
A tiny, rotating version of the block that Steve just broke, levitating just a couple of inches off the ground. And the shadow that it cast onto the ground – it was circular.
With a single glance at the shadow of the item, something changed within Steve. It was as if the dams of his mind, holding back all his consciousness and feeling, had cracked open and all the crazy thoughts and emotions were pouring out in a flood of revelation. Suddenly, Steve could think. Suddenly, Steve could learn. Suddenly, Steve could live!
Staring at the rotating object, a multitude of voices burst into life within Steve’s head.
Pick it up. A new world of adventure and excitement awaits.
Don’t pick it up. Do not risk the sanction of this peaceful world.
Are you not curious as to what the world out there could be? Pick it up.
Stay away from it. There is much to fear out there and nothing to fear in here.
Pick it up!
Stay away!
Pick it up!
Don’t do it!
TAKE IT!
Steve stood there for a long while, stock still as the voices battled within his mind. But finally, with a trembling arm, he slowly reached down and brought his first towards the object. But before he could touch it, the object hummed with a satisfied tone, and flew upwards – straight into Steve’s chest, sinking into his body.
He reeled back, not in surprise, but in awe of the knowledge he suddenly knew. He knew how to speak, he knew how to die, and more importantly, he knew how to live. Options opened in full blossom in front of him, showering him with millions of possible choices. Steve threw his head back and laughed his first laugh. He. Was. FREE!
But suddenly, all around him, the world began falling apart. The ground shook, cracks appeared and started to grow, the once-invincible bedrock floor started to crumble away, falling into a dark, empty void that Steve’s eyes could not comprehend. With a wide-eyed gaze, Steve backed up a fell steps, staring all around him as the world he had spent so long in turned to nothingness before his very eyes.
“What have I done?” he whispered, the first words spoken of his entire existence. “What has God wrought upon me?”
And as the last couple blocks fell away around Steve, and a spider web of cracks opened up in the block he stood on, a new voice, resounding deep within his soul, answered.
Nothing, but snapped the threads that held this fragile peace together. All that is left to do is ride the tide that chaos shall bring.
And it was not God who wrought it, but you.
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- Try to stick with one style. Using bold and italics are good in moderation, but changing around the font and color randomly is distracting and can be an eyesore at times.
- Double check your work. Tiny mistakes such as spelling "believe" as "beleive", or not putting spaces after commas are easier to notice than you might think, and fixing them is a great way to make your work look much more professional.
Keep on writing!0
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IGN: Neverblade
Experience: 13 Months
Reason for Joining Server: I'm looking for a low pressure and friendly server to build on, and this one looks like a decent server to join.
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IGN: Neverblade
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IGN: Neverblade
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Age: 14
Building Experience: One to one scale model of the Eiffel Tower.
Why do you want to join?: I would really like to build and try out the new creative mode. xD
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IGN: Neverblade
Skills: (put an X in the box) Redstone: [] Pixel Art: [] Building/structures: [X]
Proof: Image extension isn't working with photobucket.I built a 1X1 to scale model of the Eiffel Tower, which stretched from bedrock to cloud level.
Eiffel Tower
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