Val

No, you really should communicate OOC before attacking someone you don't know. Because while something may be the "defacto standard" to you, it is most likely not the "defacto standard" to anyone else. Yahoo RP and its text-based kin died a long time ago. Many RPers you will encounter today will tell you that their first RP was in WoW, or even in FFXIV. They aren't familiar with that format/writing style/whatever you want to call it. So yes, you do need to communicate with them to prevent unnecessary drama. Lia pls I'm still here ;-; Just posting to say that I agree that communication is key. In fact, I find it to be not only extending a courtesy, but necessary to allow a fight to play out. You don't have to plan the entire battle/whatever, but just letting the person know you're open to communication about the attacks/whatever may allow the person to feel more at ease with the situation itself. As for asking someone before you strike, I think it should be done. I don't like it. I don't really enjoy the idea that it ruins a sense of dynamic RP by letting someone know what's going to happen, but I can see it as a necessity. Some people have things going on/don't have time/aren't interested in the exchange, and as such shouldn't have things forced on them that they don't want to do. As Lia said, that kind of stuff was well and good "back in the day," and personally I'm still okay with it. But now? It's not very-well accepted and that should be considered as well. Either that or form a group/linkshell/way to distinguish people that don't mind so you don't have to worry about it.

Aw Milly, you shouldn't have <3

As most people have already said, to achieve what you want is going to be either vastly expensive or highly improbable considering the standards of laptops. Or if you get one, it's going to have massive overheating issues or break on you inside a few years. Trust me, it always happens. I'd say either lower your expectations a bit or just get a desktop if you don't absolutely have to have one. At one point I thought I wanted a gaming laptop. Got the best I could at the time and within a couple of years it was already behind the times. A few years later, I got a desktop and it's still considered top of the line. I swore off laptop gaming and just use it as an accessory for when I leave the house and want to get online/do some RP stuff.

Hey there! Val would likely make a decent contact for him, as he's pretty uncouth and is a tribal Miqo'te (though he isn't exactly tribal anymore). I also have Vincent, a Turk, who works for the Gold Saucer and does some things. They act as a fence for thieves and often hire them to do dirty work that they don't want to get caught doing themselves. Melfice could probably hire him to do some dirty work/steal some things. Cyrus Mulano works as psuedo-law enforcement. He isn't actually hired, but he's trying his best to be a free paladin! You could use Vallois, my Elezen, as a victim if need be or just another contact. Either way, I'm sure we could maybe get something going feel free to drop me a line on the forums or in game sometime! Some of my characters have wikis if you wish to check them out!

Sold vidya games while in college. After recently graduating, I'm an ESB Integration Developer and Consultant.

The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. It was all Val could do to keep his mind off of that fateful moment. It had been engraved in his memory. When he closed his eyes, he saw it. When Faye spoke to him, he heard it. When she snuggled herself against him, he felt it. Certainly having her near helped his recovery. Why wouldn’t it? The thought of her by his side was therapeutic in its very nature. But ever since the accident, something felt... off. She seemed distant, her smiles less genuine as the days passed. Perhaps it was all in the Seeker’s head. Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see and not what truly was. Maybe it was his guilt getting the better of him, or maybe she was just disappointed in her so-called Warden. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. “I’m… what does it matter?” He knew better than to press her. If she wanted time to herself—time to think—she would get it. There was no sense in arguing; it would only serve to make things worse. But it did not come without its consequences. Considering the recent events, Val’s mind immediately went to a dark place. What if she didn’t want to be near him? What if she no longer cared to be by his side? What if she forced herself to stomach the sight of him? What if each moment she looked at the nub of her left arm, she grew to hate him a little more each time? Val had suffered many wounds in his time. He’d broken bones and received more than his fair share of scrapes, bruises, and near-fatal blows. None of them hurt as much as the thought of disappointment from his beloved. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. Writing would help, wouldn’t it? He’d always gone to his journal when he needed to get some thoughts off of his mind or practice his writing. Granted, that was few and far between. He was still learning, or at least trying to learn. Faye had been teaching him a little at a time as the nights went by, though that all ended as the days ramped up to the attack. On occasion he had tried to read on his own, though he could never be sure if he was saying the words correctly or just making it up as he went along. Smaller, shorter words became easy as she taught him the syllables of the letters. Longer strings of the damnable things were much more difficult, and writing them on his own was simply out of the question. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. But that wouldn’t stop him; not this evening. He needed to talk to someone about it. He needed to get it off his chest. He needed to tell someone how horrible he was and how much of a failure he’d been. He needed to express his sadness at being unable to keep the only thing in this world of worth to him safe. He wanted to tell them that he understood if she hated him. He understood if she wanted to replace him and find someone more capable. He deserved every bit of being cast out, if that’s what she wanted. Sure she had told him that all was well and that she still loved and needed him. She still came to him at night and snuggled by his side, and she still smiled despite how much he failed at trying to walk on his own. But he knew she was also very good at hiding her true feelings. She had an impressive amount of self-control and deceit when it came to such things, and despite their bond, he’d never know when she was lying or telling the truth. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. Getting around was admittedly easier now than it had been before. In truth, the problem was never really with his legs. They had only atrophied so much during his time on the bed, and it only truly took a day for him to regain their use. What kept him from walking was the sheer pain, his body never quite having gotten used to the procedures taken to put everything back where it belonged. It was through the miracle of those in the infirmary that night that he was even alive. They had done a masterful job, but it would yet be some time before he fully recovered. Besides, he didn’t mind. He deserved this. It was his penance. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. The Seeker finally made it to his desk with the help of the wall and several moments of his time, slumping down into his chair and withdrawing his journal from the bottom-most drawer. It didn’t look like much. Really, it was little more than a tiny notebook with which to write memos and daily reminders in. Val never really needed anything more. It wasn’t as if he could write long-winded entries and musings. It only served to keep things he wanted to tell others, but knew that he couldn’t for one reason or another. Today, perhaps for the first time, it would serve the purpose of actual journals: to relieve stress. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. “Fff.. Faaaayyyyye—,“ Val spoke to himself as he tried to spell the words, speaking slowly so that he could hear each syllable just as his Princess had taught him. No. That looked nothing like he’d remembered it. He struck a single line through the word and began again. He felt like he got the first half right, maybe? It was hard to tell, so he started over. He spoke the word again, slowly sounding it out as he wrote. When he’d finished, Val studied it once again. ..There was an ‘e’ in there, wasn’t there? But it didn’t look right. He struck another line through the word and tried again. This process continued several more times, each time Val finding himself to be erroneous. Each time he struck through the word to retry, the line growing darker and darker while his anger continued to rise and rise. He struck another line through a word, digging hard enough into the paper to tear the initial page and the next few beneath it. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. The Seeker threw himself into a fit, ink from the pen marring the page with no rhyme or reason. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Worthless, worthless, worthless! It was his fault. She hired him to protect her. She told him to keep an eye on the members of the company. She told him to try to keep everyone safe. Even if he didn’t much like the latter half of his job, she was most important to him! She was his job! His life! To harm her, to take a part of her, was to take a part of his life. Why did he let it happen? Why was it her, and not him? Why was it her hand and not his? His was useless. He could barely write two-letter words, while she had perfect penmanship, her letters as beautiful and elegant as she herself. The more Val thought of it, the more his rage consumed him, scratching and jabbing and slamming his fist and the pen on the desk and notebook until he no longer had the energy to do so. The blade came down, the hand came off. Drip. The blade came down, the hand came off. Drip. The blade came down, the hand came off. Drip. The blade came down, the hand came off. Val felt something wet, something beyond the tears that marred his cheeks. It was only after he caught sight of it that the pain began to register. His left hand rest on top of his journal, several slices and open wounds from where he pen had pierced his flesh during his blind rage at himself. The pages themselves were covered in a small pool of blood which streamed down, dripping from his desk into his lap and onto the floor beneath. At first, the Seeker didn’t much know what to do. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the notion of stabbing himself. He’d deserved far more than that. He momentarily considered finishing the job, but knew that if Faye didn’t hate him currently then she certainly would. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. He pulled his hand in against himself and wrapped it in his shirt, lest he drip blood anywhere else but himself and his desk, and forced himself to stand through the pain in his stomach and chest. With the help of whatever object he had close at hand and his right arm to help keep him steady, the Seeker quietly made his way to the infirmary. When he returned, rather than bothering to clean the mess on his desk, he withdrew to the cozy nook in the back of his room and curled himself into as tight a ball as possible, ears pinned against his head and tail wrapped about himself.

Without a doubt they could. Job is just an in-game template for a specialize class, anyway. In RP, I don't think people would refer to them directly as "jobs" so much as as what they physically consider themselves to be. Vallois, for example, wields an axe and can do aetherical attacks with it, but he doesn't call himself a marauder or a warrior. He's just a guy with an axe.

I think far too often people forget that they're writing and playing with other people, and instead are trying to write at them. When you realize that it's meant to be a collaboration and no one is really meant to have the spotlight, I think it becomes a lot easier to simmer your character down and just have fun with it rather than being mad about getting beaten in a story and so on and so forth.

Subjective. You can be infinitely skilled if you want. Most people won't like it though. Having more than one field of expertise is too skilled for some people. Not to mention that it's more than just "areas," if you're literally the Best Bard Ever, are you too skilled even if you trip and fumble and fall on your own sword in every other category ever? Depends on who you ask. There's also the concept of Skill vs. Age. Is it more plausible to be the Best Arcanist in the Whole Wide World at the ripe old age of 89, or the tiny babby age of 13? Who knows. You'll get plenty of varying opinions on all of this though. The can of worms has been OPENED. I pretty much agree with all of this. It's subjective and you're never going to find one answer to suit everyone. I fall into the Skill vs. Age camp as a good indicator. A lot of people like to argue in FF's behalf that their characters are 16-17-20ish and can hold their own and be super powerful, so why can't we? My response to this is always simply "Your character isn't the main character. They're just a person in a world full of many others like them." But that's just my thoughts on the matter. As long as someone can manage to balance something in some way, I don't really care what they do. If I'm given a plausible reason for a character to have the abilities/skills that they do, I'll roll with it.

It is! We really only do stuff when the community seems to have need for us, but we're definitely here If more people show interest/join, we can set up times/events to RP in the Saucer and whatnot.

I'd say it really just depends on your patience. If you see they have a long list, I'd suggest just being patient. If they don't/are doing work for other people, politely ask for a refund. I've waited over a year for one piece and several months for another. I understand it can be annoying.

There are some sights, some things so horrific that people never quite seem to get the image out of their mind. Like a bad stain, no matter how hard they scrub, no matter how hard they try to rid themselves of the bad memories and replace them with something more pleasant, or at least a little less horrible, they always seem to come back. Val had seen some horrific things in his time. He’d witnessed members of his tribe perish in battle, disemboweled and ripped apart by the game that they’d been sent to hunt. It was nothing new to him; it was just the way things were. One wrong step, one miscalculated move, on err in judgment would cost him and his tribesmen and women their lives. It was admittedly hard for him to get over the first time he saw a sparring partner’s entrails torn apart by the razor-sharp beak of one of the Shroud animals. He often awoke in cold sweats after with only the soft, cooing sounds of his mother to soothe him back to sleep. The second time it happened, Val took it a bit easier. By then he had been trained to count his blessings that it wasn’t him and to learn from his brethren and sister’s mistakes. The third, fourth, fifth, and countless times after he’d put that into practice, calculating their moves and committing what went wrong to memory. Then, he spent the rest of the day training and contemplating over what he’d learned. Their death was a lesson not only to him, but to the rest of the tribe. It served as both a reminder of what weakness brought and a testament to precisely how fragile their way of life was. Just one death would weaken their hunting party immensely. It was another pair of eyes that couldn’t call out enemy location. It was another nose unable to track their prey. It was another spear unable to flank the target, or another decoy meant to draw its attention. Val learned that each member of his tribe, including himself, was ultimately expendable and precious all at once. They would gladly die for their tribe, and yet each and every one of them was needed to ensure its success. It was through Val’s continued success that he eventually gained the status he felt destined to achieve, and it did not come without its hardships. Many times did he find himself on the receiving end of that razor-sharp beak, and many times did he return with cuts and scrapes and bruises, some severe and others simply grazing. Even still, he committed his mistakes to memory and swore to learn from them rather than dwell on them. Through the training of his tribe, through the way of the Wolf, Val learned to be a remorseless killing machine. Repeated sights and circumstances often left him immune to the more gruesome occurrences over his career. So why, then, with all of his training and all of his past, with all of his experience and all the sights that he’d seen; why couldn’t he get this one out of his head? It replayed over and over in his mind, like a broken record that had chosen to skip at the most harrowing part of the recording. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. Why did he leave her side? What possessed him to rush forward? She was right there. She was right there. All he needed to do was stand there. All he needed to do was protect her. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. That was what he was hired for. That was why she fell in love with him. That simple objective, that simple order was the sole reason they’d grown to know one another. He failed it. He failed his purpose. More importantly, he failed her. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. Were it any other job, were it any other person, were it anything else at all, he would toss it aside and consider it another loss. He wouldn’t get paid, but that was fine. He’d grown used to a day or two without food ever since being removed from his tribe. It was nothing new. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. But this wasn’t just another job. This wasn’t just another lost chance to eat that night. She wasn’t just a random, pathetic woman that he was meant to keep safe, or even some lady considered attractive enough to lay that night. She was his love. She was his life, his betrothed, his world. She was the single most important thing in his world, the only thing outside of himself that he considered worth fighting for. And he’d failed her. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. Running over the scene in his head, there was plenty that he could have done differently. He could have shot the captured lightning aether immediately instead of waiting, giving her a chance to strike or shield herself rather than leaving her open. He could have stuck by her rather than rushing in for what he knew would only be a glancing blow. He could have stayed where he was and took the blow for her. It could have been his hand, should have been his hand. He should have moved in the way to force the blade to cleave him in two rather than risk any sort of harm to his beloved. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. But that’s not what happened. He erred in multiple ways, and it ultimately cost him. He hadn’t even lived, had he? This was death, wasn’t it? What else could it be? There was only darkness and these images, then silence. He vaguely recalled struggling to do something, anything to the man who had skewered him on his blade; to the man that had dared to touch what was his. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. There was that, at least. He’d manage a distraction long enough to ensure she got her revenge. He recalled seeing the man’s body fall before everything went dark, before he passed away into whatever was in the next life. Perhaps his Princess would be able to move on without him. When the members of his tribe perished, Val often coped with it by concluding that they simply weren’t worthy of being called Wolves, or that they had perished due to their weakness so that other, stronger brothers and sisters could take their place. This was simply his time. Someone stronger and more capable would soon take his. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off. The blade came down, the hand came off.

The Turks that we RP would be more than happy to get in as a plot device, perhaps to hire particular fighters or try and skew things in a particular direction as shady, shadow-esque people in the background

Awww ;-; it's amazing! Thank you so, so much!

Like the others said, this was pretty awesome! Sorry I wasn't able to make it until later, but it seemed like a great turnout and I had a ton of fun when I got there! Great job!

Val stood before the advertisement, his mismatched eyes trailing over the all-too familiar form of the woman on display. While he wasn't quite sure what the strange combination of letters meant, he was more than aware of the picture: she was hot, and she was all his. Judging by the pleased grin on his lips, it seemed as if the Seeker had never been more proud of a conquest. "Nnngh.. Godsdamn, Princess. Lookin' good," he commented, perhaps a bit louder than he'd initially expected to. "Yer damn right. I'd let her ride my bronco anytime!" a nearby man replied, eyeing the woman over. "Eh? Idunno what 'er looks have t'do wi' ridin' broncos," Val replied. Before the man had a chance to respond, another quipped in. "Yeah, I'd give it to 'er hard!" A few others commented in the same lewd manner, apparently friends. It only took Val a few moments to piece the puzzle together and realize what they meant and what the poster must have said. Those that know Val also know that his temper can be relatively short, especially when it came to his betrothed. Immediately enraged, the Seeker flung himself at the closest offender with both a right hook and a string of rather colorful insults to precede it. Shortly after, he was detained for charges of assault.

r u srs

This is unfortunately the problem with housing in any community. Most people will stick to their homes and RP there because it's safe and they know the quality of the RP they can get VS the Quicksand or anywhere else. And as others have stated, a lot of people just get caught up and don't realize they've been skipping out on people. There's still the whole Heavensward thing too, with people trying to cap for the week before settling and RPing and so on and so forth. As most, I get mixed results. Sometimes people are available, sometimes they aren't. I also just have absolutely horrid timing and most people seem to be busy whenever I poke them D=

I think we all know what Val's last meal would be

It's in the Lavender Beds! Plot 58, Ward 5!

I kind of feel this is the case with a lot of RPers. They do a lot of stuff thinking there won't be any consequences. I'm personally of the mind that IC actions = IC consequences, and that's something we try to enforce in our FC and that I try to keep around. If someone continues to cause problems IC in the company, they'll eventually be removed--IC. If someone keeps picking at Val, he's eventually going to hit them because that's what he does, and if they get mad about it then I don't really much care. They shouldn't have put themselves in that position in the first place. Though I will say I try to deviate/stay away from people that aren't willing to roll with the consequences of their character's actions. It annoys me to find someone that is willing to be a prick/cause problems/whatever but doesn't want anything bad to happen to their character in return.

Did someone order a Miqo'te? :v

Hey there! I have a few characters that could fit what you're looking for! Val Nunh (my main) is an ex merc, so it's very possible that they've ran into one another on occasion. I have a relatively dastardly character, Melfice Vainchelon, that could have hired her to do somewhat unsavory (without her much knowing if she normally wouldn't have done it in the first place). I also have a man that lives the high life and is RPed as a Turk, Vincent Laurentius, that could offer to help sell her beverages at the Saucer or do some other underhanded things if she feels so inclined, depending on how the character is! Barring that, I have a knight-in-training and another mercenary that mostly keeps to himself that I'd be willing to offer. Just throw me a message in game or on the RPC and let me know!

I have a few characters that fit this description, mainly an Elezen that works as a mercenary. Unfortunately, he isn't very talkative. By contrast, my main that I RP is an ex mercenary that is quite mouthy. I also have a shady member of a mob-like organization (Turks).

I have a Dark Knight! Though he isn't very well aware that he has the abilities. He's also a very pleasant/good person he just needs a teacher so he'll stop sucking.