Verad

To what extent does this tie in with your concerns, stated in other threads, regarding players making characters solely for the purposes of fetishization?

And in that regard, what "most RPers" discuss is a problem, because it erases the existence of that one thing and only discusses the existence of the something else, leading to threads where we have to articulate the existence of the one thing again. Similar concerns appear with "metagaming," where it can refer to a broad swathe of activities (pre-planning storylines, the employment of dramatic irony, making characters and storylines based on an OOC awareness of what people tend to play, etc.) but is only used as a pejorative, referring to one specific type of those activities (using OOC knowledge IC without consent). Even the above regarding a "fragile, obsessive need" isn't necessarily problematic on its face - only when it leads to problems for other players, OOC and IC. It seems some posters deem that to be a foregone conclusion; I'm skeptical of that idea.

Well, at least you admit you're already probably wrong about it.

You may have left Tumblr, but Tumblr has never left you. It has always been beside you, through all your triumphs, your tragedies, your highs and your lows, waiting for the moment you would turn and notice it again. And in that moment it would say, "Reblog."

I'm sure it can be read differently (if you're more charitable and less literal about the statement) but yes, it does seem to be an essentialist statement. There are a lot of essentialist statements in that little paragraph. What distinguishes that statement from men "fundamentally" being unable to do a thing in such a way that makes that statement problematic because of its essentialism, but the other correct?

Game creation isn't quite the same as roleplaying, but people with shitty attitudes towards women often out themselves similarly when talking about their RP. Patriarchal culture does tend to reward women who distinguish themselves by attacking others. Crab-in-a-barrel is a known problem in sexist societies. Is the problem that the quote makes it appear to be an essentialist statement?

All well and good, but it's very easy to mask OOC regression with feigned OOC progressiveness. The internet has provided a convenient playbook in this regard. And that presumes you value OOC communication, and aren't one of the types to demand full immersion and speak to the other partner OOC as little as possible. It's a concern that's based heavily on intentionality, and intention can be a difficult thing to prove.

Often these things can be slapdash and upsetting because individuals have examined their reasons for portraying a character in such a way, and created plausible reasons for doing so. Somebody can do this even while fully aware of and in opposition to heteronormative culture.

Well, looks like this particular cat's out of the bag, so I guess I'll discuss it now anyways. So, yeah, this is something I notice quite a bit as I grow older. Where I take the perspective of "what would my character logically and rationally conclude at this particularly moment in time, given the sum total of their experiences, knowledge, and emotional state?", a number of people transparently use their characters as vehicles for sexual wish-fulfillment. That on its own is not necessarily bad, but it does tend to get irritating when those same people defend some really sexist depictions (being vague here because, well, it's a lot of crap) purely because they happen to find those things appealing to their libido, while completely disregarding how the characters in question would actually do things. It's bad writing and it's bad RP, and it's really annoying running into it for the hundred thousandth time. The fact that you state the number of times you've run into it is telling. How much of an onus is there on any one player to depict anything in a particular way?

Important: As a result of the most recent event, there is a new Aspect that will affect the entire storyline: /Wave of Anti-Ishgardian Paranoia/ What this means for players in Scales: This Aspect can be considered to be present in all scenes. It can be invoked by anybody at any time for the usual expenditure of Fate Points. People in Ul'dah are being riled up about Ishgardian agitators interfering in the hunt for the relics; this could mean that you make somebody suspicious by making them look like they're in league with Ishgardians, or it could mean someone suspects you, personally, of being in league, and will not want to work with you based on that suspicion. What this means for other people: Nothing at all! If you want to RP a merchant being a little rude to your Ishgardian character, by all means. If not, disregard.

I tend to use "By Oschon's bunions" an awful lot.

If you're going to rig a poll in favor of the option you like, you could at least try to represent the option you don't in a manner that might interest other people.

I am either rich or dead.

The distinction between argument and debate is largely meaningless, save as a rhetorical move to ensure that the debater is doing the Right Kind of discussion, and the arguer is doing the Wrong Kind. Both are equally useless in terms of furthering the goal of improving one's ability to play pretend elves (a farcical goal if ever there was one). In regards to the actual topic the goal is situational. Not all public fora are created equal. I run an LS for talking about roll-based systems. The rules explicitly say "Do not have the argument about which of the freeform, roll-based, or PvP methods of conflict resolution are the best methods." Not only is the argument incredibly tiresome after hearing it for years in various MMO RP communities, but it undermines the purpose of the LS, which is explicitly about the value of roll-based systems. So I would expect somebody who wants to have that discussion to have it elsewhere, the same way I would expect an Ul'dahn law-enforcement LS to get sick of arguments about how little authority group X Y or Z has, or a Seeker culture LS to get sick of people saying Keepers are best. Those are easy examples, though, because they will likely have rules about this subject from the outset. But public fora can also have a tone that isn't enforced by any rule but social convention, yet nevertheless dictates what is and isn't acceptable behavior. If I join the Kawaii Sugoi Chat Fun-Time and start having heavy discussions about Gridanian trade rights in the LS, people would be right to suggest I and my interlocutor take it elsewhere because they want to make silly jokes and spout memes, and vice-versa if somebody kept spamming image macros and gifs in an LS dedicated to scholarly examination of the setting through the lens of structuralist literary critique. The quality of the discussion has no bearing on its right to be in a particular public space. If it comes down to it, 2 wins. Lore is not so important that it precludes all other discussions. It's a topic, the same as any other, and some LSes are not going to want to have it. Whether or not the discussion is a "debate" or an "argument" is besides the point.

Between the simultaneous postings of Inessa and Rhoe, I'm going to give this one to Rhoe. She's a new player and not yet involved, and I would hate to keep her on the sidelines.

Event 5: Things To Do in Ul'Dah When You're Dragons As with Event 3, this is split up into multiple different sequences. Signs-up and scheduling as players are able. 1. Word has spread of the presence of Ishgardian Knights harassing merchants within the marketplaces of Ul'dah, demanding to know who has sold items of interest to Ishgard and to have the pereptrators handed over to them for inquisitorial investigation. This has led to a few tense stand-offs with Blades, but no official petition has yet to reach the Sultanate. Who are these figures, and what is their purpose in Ul'dah? 1. Kale Aideron 2. Barbarccia Valadis 3. V'aleera Lhuil 4. Rhoe Molkot 2. Kiht Jakkya was asked by the traumatized cartwright Fufuyu Fuyu to deliver a letter to a one Spenser Haig, a supplier of unknown nature for Fufuyu. Kiht Jakkya is sure that there's no connection between the letter and the troubles with the relics, but is nevertheless set to deliver it to his business at the Crimson Fish tavern in Pearl Lane. 1. Kiht Jakkya 2. Anstarra Silverain 3. Rinh'li Nelhah 4. Kyrael Astares 3. The No-Eyed Man, or the Man in Black, depending on who asks, has been sighted openly agitating amongst the citizenry at the Milvaneth Sacrarium to fear the threat of Dravanian instigators. Will his next appearance lead to answers?! 1. Evangeline Primrose 2. Kyrael Astares 3. Orrin Halgren 4. Inessa Hara Proactive Section! As the event has progressed, characters have been taking their own initiative and investigating elements of the storyline on their own. Want to organize a time and place to do so? There's space below! P1. Evangeline has some evidence that the bodies of dragons play some part in the transformation. For her research she has decided to get some samples. And what better place than the fossils in the Ul'dah museum of natural history? 1. Evangeline Primrose 2. Coatleque Crofte 3. Orrin Halgren 4. V'aleera Lhuil P2. Your idea here! 1. 2. 3. 4.

"Nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing." "Nothing?" "It's as I said, is it not? I watched from afar. It took out the Flames, as expected; but then, adventurers." "Ah. You weren't seen? They weren't putting on a show?" "Being seen is your business, is it not? I do the opposite." "True enough. And by the by, these seats are intolerable." "They're in the dark." "Precisely!" Silence, but if eyes, when rolled vigorously enough, make a sound, then that sound can be presumed to appear at this point. Further silence. "Fine. So nothing, then." "Near to nothing. It was still a rogue voidsent, as far as Ossuary and Ul'dah alike are concerned. None of them seemed eager to report the news of the truth." "There was no body? Dragon's body would be a stir." "None." "What, did they obliterate it that thoroughly?" "Hardly; they fixed it." "Fixed it." A pause. A sip. "Fixed it." "As I said." "Is it a fixable thing? These things can be mended?" "Not by the ignorant." "And yet." "Indeed. And yet." Silence again. "So what did they do with the, ah, what would you call it - " "The vessel?" A snap of the fingers. "Yes, that's the word." "Took it home with them, near as I can gather. His Dubiousness has it. He can keep it for now." "Well, that's it then, isn't it? That's all we can do." "What do you mean?" "There's nothing left to distribute. The markets are tapped, and this has been the only little play, to, well, play. To have an audience. And nothing." "Nothing." "So we wait, don't we? Wait for another accident. If they can fix it - " "Then I can't take the risk again, yes." A heavy sigh. "Well, it was a good role." The patting of a hand upon a shoulder. "It has yet to end." "What else is there?" "The Dravanians, for one. They're skulking about. They need only kill the wrong person, or try to. Then everything proceeds." "If they need goading, then fine. Others?" The tapping of finger, soft, but quick, upon a chin. "Then there was that woman." "Which woman?" "I beg your pardon." "Look." Exasperation in the tone. "I haven't wanted to say, because it's not as if I'm one to judge, but the way you're so vague. Always 'that man' and 'that woman' and 'the organization' and so forth. I understand the need to keep things secretive but you could at least use a false name or similar. Pronouns confuse the issue." The tapping stopped. A clearing of the throat. "Er, that is, it just confuses me, you understand." The words are hasty. "Makes it harder for me to do my job, you see?" "I see." "It's not, well, an insult. It's practical." "Very practical, I agree." The tapping continues. "You've seen the woman. The fracas at the Southerland estate, for example - " "Now there was a wasted opportunity." "Agreed. And she was at Highbridge. She'd be hard to miss. Always passing out her little pamphlets." "She's a possibility?" "Among others." "How should I handle it?" "Do as you do. I'll talk to that man - " A pause. "Our employer." "Which employer?" "The right employer." The tone brooked no further questioning. "We'll put on a show. Mayhaps it will be sufficient. Then we'll speak. I'll talk to her." "Who?" "Her." "Which her?" "That woman!" "Which woman?" Silence. "Get back out on the streets and make an ass of yourself already." "Fine, fine." A chair slides back. "I just can't stand the vagueness."

We are still here, and we are very much doing well. We have a number of new people involved through Scales in the Sand, and are openly accepting new members to the LS. The sheer volume of new attendees means that we have space open not only for those who wish to use the system for their own characters, but for whomever wants to use it to GM events of their own. Contact me if you are interested in this position. Virara and Oliwat, please send me a tell the next time I'm on so I can invite you into the LS.

Is this still ongoing?

How to Avoid: Do Not Roleplay. There you go.

The letter is not relevant.

Event 4: Outbreak Day/Time: Friday, Feb 6, 9 PM CST Description: A thaumaturgical explosion has wracked the Ossuary's libraries and caused several casualties. While the damage has been contained, there have been reports of something escaping the city and taking flight in the direction of Eastern Thanalan. An emergency leve has been issued to track and slay what the thaumaturges fear may be an escaped voidsent. OOC: Read the most recent post in the IC masterthread, here. Spaces Available: 1. Kiht Jakkya 2. Evangeline Primrose 3. Kyrael Astares 4. Barbarccia Valadis 5. Coatleque Crofte

Join, they screamed. Join, they wailed. Join, they pleaded. There was no order, no logic. One cry could not be distinguished from the next, and yet all were clear. Be one. Be whole. Join. Rurufa Rufa awoke with a sputtered start, enough to rouse but not to lift her head from the table. The study hall was dim, the candle at her table so near to guttering that for a moment it took the Dunesfolk a few moments to be sure she was actually awake. Rufa had thought that another member of the guild would wake her when the bells grew long, but this was the Ossuary, and its members understood that research needn't only occur during the waking moments of one's day. A blanket around her shoulders, placed there no doubt by a sympathetic thaumaturge, was the only sign that hadn't been there before was the only sign that she'd been noticed. She took stock of her surroundings, taking in the shadowed rows of books along the walls, the haphazard stack of the same piled at one side of her table, and found that taking stock was a tricky thing - some part of her nagged her to return to sleep, to pass away the night. This, she thought, was unusual; the first few times she'd had the dreams she'd bolted upright, clutched her hands to her chest - bedsheet as well, if she'd remembered to go to bed - gasping for breath as if the sounds, the wailing, keening screeches, were strong enough to strangle. Shock, however, had begun to fade, and the sounds had become less a cacophony and more a lullaby, dragging her out of sleep only when the chorus hit a high or harsh note. Finally rubbing sleep out of her eye with one hand, she used the other to examine the object of her study: the pendant resting in the open spine of a book at the top of the pile. Rufa slipped her small fingers through its silver chain. It was such a deceptively simple-looking thing, the wyrmtear: mottled brown and yellow, dull and a little unpleasant to the eye. It caught the little candlelight quite well, giving a hint to the observer that where was something more there, but only just. The less-informed might think it little more than a cheap semi-precious gem, and the jeweler who made the pendant a fellow of questionable taste, to set so ugly a stone into silver. She couldn't fault anyone for thinking that way - indeed, she commended them. Better to be less-informed and cast aside the jewelry than to be aware of its true value and seek to keep it. She held it at eye-level, and brushed her hand against the gem's surface. Nothing. No new thoughts in her mind, no renewal of the song. Just the smooth, slightly chill texture of the stone itself. A spark of aether, though - a little bit of magic passed into the stone, and it would brighten sharply, the dull color of the gem giving way to a brilliant and golden glow. That was all it would take to reawaken the tear. And then to touch it again! Rufa shuddered at the thought, and found her free hand half-outstretched towards the gem again, her fingers already twisted in the familiar gesture she used to pass aether from her body into the object. A quick shake of the head, and she set it down. No. Not tonight. The song was too near and, she worried, becoming too dear. Throughout her studies, contact had been inevitable - a brush here and there, willing or not, while examining the effects of aether of varying aspects upon the stone, the occasional outright grip as healthy caution in the face of an unknown artifact gave way to frustration when preliminary studies failed to bear any real fruit. A small list of minor offenses that was building up, she feared into a grander one. The last thing she wanted to do was prove those two miqo'te correct. The sneer on the Ishgardian's face as she'd been willing to threaten the entire Guild all for a trinket! It made Rufa's face sour and her grip tighten over the pendant's chain. "What does it do, exactly?" she murmured to herself. It was a stupid question, one to which Rufa already had an answer, if the few Ishgardian texts she'd been able to acquire had been any help. Stones from the bodies of slain dragons. Heretical artifacts (but then they thought ideas were heresy, so what did that matter). Possibly a sentimental token for the Dravanians, a sign of those lost in the name of whatever their cause was, but then why did it have such an effect? "Rather, how does it work?" "A curious materia you have there, isn't it?" Where the dream had only half-woken her, the voice made her entirely so. Voices were suspicious things in the Ossuary - what might have been a a new initiate asking the quickest way to the loo could just as easily have been a voidsent beginning a moons-long process of corruption after escaping from a restricted artifact, and so caution regarding sudden acts of speech was a frequently-healthy course of action in the Ossuary. "P-pardon?" In the dark, the speaker was hard to see, and still very much so when he approached into dim-light and pulled a seat out to join Rufa as if he'd been invited. She had to crane her neck up moreso than usual - Elezen then. "A materia. Like one of that goblin's creations. It doesn't remind you of that?" Rufa took half-a-moment to give the man a better look. Bespectacled, his attire a bit shabby, but anything more than a cursory examination was deferred by the dark and the sudden and unexpected interjection of an idea. "Yes," she mused, twisting the chain from side to side to give it a better look. "It does. It even looks as if it's been fused to the necklace, but . . . clumsily so. As a centerpiece? That's odd. They're usually supplemental gems in pieces of jewelry." Her nose wrinkled as she considered the possibilities. Crude materia-fashioning from the depths of Ishgardian history? A strong possibility. She bobbed her head towards the elezen in thanks, her smile weary but relieved. "Gratitude to you, ser. That's a new angle entirely." "No trouble. My apologies for the intrusion, of course. But I'd heard that the Guild was aflutter over this little item, and I was in the shelves, and, well . . . " He shrugged. "Something about the man who donated it was odd, I'm told." She snorted. "Oh, yes, indeed. Hair of white and all in black attire, eyepatch over the one and a scar over the other. A parody of an adventurer, I'd say." The elezen chuckled, leaning forward. "Why'd he hand it over, then?" Rufa waved a hand as she set the necklace down, offering it to the man to examine. That she couldn't place his face was odd, but not so odd as to be odd. The Guild had many field researchers, and the flow of adventurers ensured there were always new faces. "Safekeeping, he said. Said he'd be back 'when we needed it most', but of course we've seen no sign since. He'd have made a good thaumaturge with that kind of bombast, don't you think?" "Perhaps so." He twisted the pendant in his hand, examining it at eye level himself in much the same manner. "A small little thing, isn't it? Does it have any power to it? Was it worth the bombast?" Here Rufa hedged. "It's . . . well it glows," she admitted, a little sheepish, her head bowed to avoid eye-contact. "Pump it with aether and it'll glow. Never mind the aspect - fire, ice, lightning, it all glows just the same. But it fades. And then - " She paused, the memory of the song echoing, and shrugged. "Well, it just glows." "Hrm. You've found nothing else? Worn it? Touched it?" He offered her the pendant, palm extended. She snatched it back quickly, more so than she'd planned. "Surely it must have been worth more than that." "Mayhaps," she conceded. "What I've dug-up says they come from slain dragons, from time to time. Read the old sagas and it's proof of foul dragons' deeds, quickly destroyed by whatever dragoon happened to be the story's subject." She slipped the pendant around her neck, pushing back her robe's hood enough to allow it. It felt better there. Easier to keep track of it. "Always the gorier sections, really. Stanzas about spilled blood and torn flesh and fallen stones." "Ah, well," said the elezen, as if they had lit upon an answer waiting to be discovered. "That explains it, doesn't it? Blood's the thing." "Blood . . . " Rufa ran her hand along her chin, peering off to the side of the shelves. It was a queer thing, the man said, but the average thaumaturge said five queer things before supper. And it was an interesting idea. "Beastkin? Spoken, mayhaps? Ought to start small." He chuckled, and shook his head. She had a sense of longer hair, but it was . . . hazy, wasn't it? Darker than it should have been, even with the little candlelight that remained. It was hard to see his features beyond his spectacles. "No, I'd say the real thing. Dragon's blood." He rustled. There was a clink. A vial of red rolled across the table to bump against a book's spine. Rufa's eyes widened and her arms scrabbled along the table to snatch up the vial before it rolled away, or worse, shattered. "Where did - why? This is restricted! How did you get this?!" He folded his hands together, blithely ignoring the question. "You have to know, don't you? How long has this been eating at you? The guild is smarter than some old sagas. You have to decipher how this works. How often have you said that?" The vial in one hand, Rufa rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I don't - it's - this is - " They had training against this sort of thing. Corruption brought about by hubris. It was a common enough condition in the guild. There were seminars. Pamphlets. But with the pendant around her neck, the echo of the song seemed closer, as if it were no longer content to remain in dreams, crawling out of her slumber and into her waking mind. She frowned, glancing down at the pendant. It did not glow. There was no charge. "Why?" "Go on," he said, gesturing towards her with one hand. "You know why. You can feel it, can't you? The call. You've been close enough to it. Why not answer?" "Why not . . ." She gave the vial a closer examination. The memory of the Ishgardian woman surfaced, and it made her angry, tightening her fist around glass. She had been a nuisance before, to be certain, but the thought - the thought of someone from that country breaking into the guild, threatening them, taking away what was hers, to be delivered to the enemy? Unforgivable. A test, then. A test to see if she could control it. Her hand passed over the pendant, the slightest spark of lightning from her fingertips draining her stores of aether and restoring it to its full glow. She uncorked the vial. The man sat across from her, saying nothing. She thought to ask him what she ought do with it, but this close, it seemed simple, didn't it? Join. She raised the vial to her lips.

I roll a d100 every month and if it is below a certain number, he dies of old age. This number increases every year. The clock is ticking.

Have a goal. Not a long-term one like avenging the death of your dead relative, although those are of course nifty. A short-term one. Something that requires you to approach strangers and ask for help. This is more important than your character's backstory and initial personality, which can be fleshed out as necessary, and which people will generally presume you have, but are keeping under wraps until proven otherwise. A goal will get you RPing more quickly and efficiently than a personality. Do not worry about offending the lore; it is a half-understood collection of facts and speculation, and despite a number of experiments on my part I've found you can't offend such things. People will have particular spins on the lore in the many (many, many) grey areas, and they can be offended, it's true, but is it really worth fussing over that concern?