Melkire

"Osric Melkire, treating kittens like that is getting you coal in your stocking this year." ... >w>

The Lyn/Elin creep me out, too. It really isn't the race by themselves, it was the players who gravitated toward them. The fact that I have to be one to play a Summoner pisses me off, too. It's such a terrible design decision. Ironically, this is my hang-up with Black Desert in which, last I heard, many classes are race or gender locked.

Rated X.

Whoa. Nice giveaway. Bumping for visibility and interest! What the hell. 1. A Falconer's Shirt (Dyable) 2. A Company Tabard 3. A Fat Cat 4. A pair of Music Boxes

Screw taglines, I'm awful at taglines, have a promotional trailer.

My insecurities regarding roleplay have less to do with myself and more to do with my writing. I am constantly worried that my character might be a nuisance given a tendency to bully his way into plots, dominate a scene or two by hogging some spotlight, and then derail the expected direction for said plot (which isn't even mine, so I have no right) by throwing spanners into the works, as it were. I have at least one alt who is also somewhat overbearing. I like to think that the rest are most certainly "side characters" in that they have no potential for standing front and center... but when it comes to the characters I play most, I worry.

I have a character who has a problem in the form of another of my characters who's allied with someone else's character and all three of them have a problem with a third person's character who probably qualifies as a voidsent by this point in time. All three (or more, depending on where in the story arc we are at any given time) of us would probably love to interact with Khyran at some point. I know I would. Gonna send you a PM!

”That's jus' a story ta keep men on the straight an' narrow. If that was true…” Osric took a deep breath and turned about where he stood. He took in the sight of the empty meadow, silent and tranquil as it was. The long blades of grass danced in a gentle breeze, the sun warmed the earth as Azeyma had ordained long ago, and far off - a small brown speck against bright blue - his griffin, Ansfrid, could be seen soaring through the skies. Through a sea of clouds. He looked out over the horizon, where rock and boulder and island alike all drifted on the winds. Large veins of crystal were strewn throughout the floating land masses, numerous and abundant. He’d often wondered why this place wasn’t known as the Sea of Stones, but now he thought he knew. The true wonder, the real marvel, wasn’t how far removed he was the world below, but in how close he was to the heavens above. He’d petitioned Ser Emerissel of House Sauveterre, the new patron of the Dauntless, long and hard for the opportunity, the privilege, to be here. Securing this region was the responsibility of House Haillenarte; they had but recently begun permitting access to adventurers and their free companies. Emerissel had - at last, after many private discussions, most of which had been quite heated - taken his request to Haillenarte, and they’d seen fit to grant it. Standing here, now, he could sense that this was the right place, that this was the very isle that Berrod had spoken of. He could feel a pulse. The beating of the land’s heart, or so he’d been trained to think of it. He wasn’t sure how it had come to pass… he was quite sure he’d never know... but somehow, long ago, this meadow had seen more than its fair share of bloodshed. Men and women had fought and died here in droves, and the soil had not forgotten. ”...so that’s what it is. Yer poisonin' yerself an' spreadin’ the gods-damned filth t'me.” He found himself grinding his teeth as the words drifted to him, unbidden, from an earlier time, from a memory he didn’t particularly care for. If the highlander’s writings were to be believed, he was about to open the Solar Plexus, the third chakra… or attempt to, at the very least. This one was said to be ambition, to be will. He lacked neither; he was confident that, should the third manifest, he could and would come to possess a measure of self-control that he’d lacked since he’d first set foot on the path. Somehow, he rather doubted matters would proceed according to plan. One below for each one above. That was the conclusion he’d come to after the insight that Forgehands had shared with him. Those had been the words he had shared with Berrod. ”Dabblin' in that shite by yerself is one thing, but don't go smearin' that dirt on me too!" He would know soon enough. Either he’d reach for the third above and find salvation, or he would slip and fall further into the abyss to grapple with the third below. Damned, that’s what he’d be, and he would know it. That was rather the point of this little exercise. Was he one to walk in the light, or was he one to walk in the shadows? Confirmation would come swiftly. Whatever the answer, whatever the result, he would have to be ready. He would have to stand strong, resolute, bound by his own will and his own conscience. To open is not to grasp. A small gem, the color of the Warden’s daystar, danced across his knuckles. Armstrong would not have gifted him with a soulstone if there’d been any doubt that he could handle this. He threw his coattail of griffin leather out behind him… oh, how Ansfrid hated the smell… and dropped down onto the grass. He sat cross-legged, tailor-fashion, in a position he’d come over the past several moons to treat as a posture ideal for meditation. He leaned forward, eyes closed, and dropped both hands between his legs, laid his palms upon the earth. Osric Melkire listened to the pulse of the land, and then the land listened to the pulse of Osric Melkire, for after a mere two dozen heartbeats, they were one and the same. His first thought was how different this was from Halatali. The ancient labyrinth had felt vile, foul, wicked, and the torment which had accompanied the endeavor had nearly driven him mad with grief. This isle felt clean, pure, sacred, as if the caress of the heavens had long since cleansed it of any taint left behind by the sins of the departed. He laughed, and there was genuine mirth in his laughter. Then the weight fell upon him, and his bubbling ceased. He could feel… more. The isle upon which he sat was but one piece of a larger whole, and by drawing the land’s aether in about himself to facilitate the opening of the third, he’d left a vacuum… a vacuum which the other islands now rushed to fill. The pressure upon him built and built; he barely had time to marvel at how much there was, how significantly this dwarfed Halatali, before the waves crashed over him, again and again and again and…. Clean. But there was so much! He reached past the Root and the Sacral… and found nothing. He swallowed, still awash in a torrential downpour, and reached past fear. He reached past anger. He found the laughter again. Too much. There was too much. Gods damn you, Berrod. So ruttin’ high ‘n’ mighty, thinkin’ you know it all. Well, guess what, you pissin’ prick? You were wrong. You were wrong, ‘n’ I was right! But no, that don’t matter, ain’t worth buffalo shite with you, and why? ‘cause you’re the master, ‘n’ the master’s always right. That’s just how it is with tutors, ain’t it? You’ll blow this off, and turn to your other students. You’ll play favorites. Fuck you. I’m better than the rest. I’ll prove it. Too much. Burn until there’s nothing left to burn, he’d been taught. Use it up. So he did. He took hold of the third below as best he could, and channeled the excess upward. Through the second and first it passed. Through the Root it passed. Into the Sacral it went, all of it, funneled by his will… and from the Sacral, he drank. He drank, and drank, and drank. His skin darkened, red hot to the eyes and red hot to the touch. It bubbled, popped, tore, even as it knit itself back together, lightened, cleared up. With each passing moment, he found himself hating Armstrong more and more.

Hello, and welcome to the RPC! Seems most folks have you covered on lore and background feasibility, so I'm going to supplement what Faye said above re: graphics and "roleplay style" (which, in your case, seems more a matter of roleplay speed). I had a jarring transition when I jumped from play-by-post forum writing into MMO roleplay, so I know how rough it can be at first. To start us off: no one is going to be happy waiting thirty minutes or more for a single response. I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you. That's awful in a live environment where responses can take as few as ten seconds. Even "para RP" (which stands for paragraph roleplay, which is exactly what it sounds like) does not take quite so long, and usually averages anywhere from five to ten minutes, perhaps longer, depending on the roleplayer. If you're going to make roleplayers wait thirty minutes to an hour on average per response, you are going to lose them, and you are going to lose them fast. What it comes down to is that a MMORPG is a live environment. Your fellow roleplayers are expecting responses so fast that they resemble real-time interactions in daily life. They won't ever be as fast, of course... but that's the first step in adapting to roleplay in a Massively Multiplayer Online game. The first step is to shift from thinking of this as writing to thinking of this as social interaction. There are, thankfully, two relatively minor and easy-to-implement shifts in writing style that can drastically reduce your response times from minutes to seconds. They are as follows: 1. You do not have to describe in text what you can let the graphics describe for you. Example: You, Character A, are facing and looking at Character B. Instead of describing in an emote how you turn away from Character B and cease to look at them, you can instead turn your character, deselect them so your character is no longer looking at them, and proceed to type only the words your character would say aloud. So this... Osric turns away from Sky reluctantly and rests his hands on the Quicksand's railing. He looks out over the establishment's patrons and sighs. "Liselotte, you'll get better. Just takes time." ...becomes this... "Liselotte, you'll get better. Just takes time." Looks a little jarring here on the forums, but in-game you would see in the latter case my avatar turn away from yours and look out over the railing at everyone else. In this particular instance, I've cut down on the number of characters used, and therefore cut down my response time, by better than half. What's really happening here is that you're shifting from typing out everything that happens to typing out speech, allowing the avatar to describe your character's physical behavior for you, and resorting to emotes only to capture and convey what the game engine can't. Now, mind you, later on when you're more comfortable with in-game roleplay and you want to start recording logs of your scenes, you'll want to get back into the habit of describing everything so that it gets captured in text. But that can wait; for now, the priority should be cutting down that response time to something reasonable for a live environment. 2. Treat Dialogue as "Real Life" Speech One of the most fundamental differences between roleplay in forum writing and roleplay in-game is that the latter more closely resembles "real life" speech. You might have a thought that you'd like to share, but before you can get it out the conversation has moved on. Someone might choose to interrupt you during a speech. These are things that you won't see happening in forum writing unless both collaborators have agreed upon it happening and pre-arranged it. With in-game roleplay, this sort of thing happens naturally and it happens often. It's best to keep in mind that when we speak to others, there is no guarantee that we will be speaking uninterrupted for as long as we wish. Furthermore, people don't naturally speak in long, uninterrupted stretches. Conversations are instead populated by short bursts of dialogue. This is a bit of an exaggeration, but you won't see this happening often in real life... "John, I think we need to go to Subway today. We can't afford to spend too much eating out, and the closest fast food restaurant is McDonald's which is ten miles away. That's too much to burn on gas, we need to save that gas so we can drive to and from work this week." "Okay, Mary, you're right. Subway it is." ...instead, you'll see this... "John, I think we need to go to Subway today." "Why?" "We can't afford to spend too much eating out." "How about McDonald's?" "Too far, we'd burn too much gasoline." "So?" "We need that for getting to and from work." "Okay, Mary, you're right. Subway it is." Let's take another example. Let's say someone asks your character a question, and you want your character to provide reasoning. This... "Yes. Let me tell you why. *cue lengthy explanation that you have to type, during which someone might cut you off with their own response and therefore make yours look awkward and out-of-place when you finally finish typing it out* " ...doesn't work quite so well as this... "Yes." "Let me tell you why." " *cue lengthy explanation that your fellow roleplayers will wait on* " The difference between the two is that the latter is just the former broken into three shorter, faster responses. The first response provides the answer, the second lets everyone know that you have a third, lengthier response on the way, and that buys you time to type out the third response. I hope this helps!

Except the weapons purchased with tomestones of esoterics aren't at all related or involved in the new anima weapons quest chain. You're not imbuing the eso weapons with anything, you're having a whole new weapon forged and the initial result happens to look identical to the existing eso weapons. Furthermore, the relic weapon quest chain from ARR / 2.x featured unique models from the outset and were released alongside brand new unique content specifically made to accompany those relic weapons.

For many of the non-wind-up minions (and a few of the wind-ups, as well, such as the Qiqirn), there's no need for a reason to use them in roleplay. You just have to want to. If you want to, then you'll figure out a way to work it into your character's story, and that's that. Case in point, NUTKIN. NUTKIN NUTKIN NUTKIN NUTKIN NUTKIN. Harasses the shit out of everyone in Osric's vicinity. Gods forbid it's around when he visits with someone.

[align=center]

He sighed with relief for what had to be the thousandth time that night. A chill wind blew through the Goblet. He glanced over his shoulder towards the house to note that the lights were still on; the Dauntless were still celebrating his release, what few of them were home. He shook his head mirthfully, turned back to regard the valley that was spread out before him and cloaked in mist and fog. It wasn’t until he heard footsteps approaching from down the street that he shifted again as he leaned on the stone railing. One glance was enough. The Marshal sidled up alongside him, stood next to him, rested her manicured hands next to his. Osric grunted. “Evenin’, Marshal. Hells can I do for you?” “Not much, I’m afraid. Truth be told, I am here more or less to congratulate you on your acquittal.” He snorted. “Acquittal? I was found guilty of at least one charge. Dragged m’name through the mud, you ‘n’ the others did. Dishonorable discharge. You your own self made it gods-damned clear what you think of me.” The woman smirked. “And yet here you are. Free. Unharmed. At liberty to go about your own business. To live your life, as it were. Miraculous, that, given your crimes and how similar… hmm… achievements have earned so many of your former fellows in the Flames a noose of their own.” The Lominsan eyed her sidelong, straightened. Wheels started turning. Something or someone struck a light in his head and gave life to suspicion.. and clarity. “What’re you sayin’? That the rulin’ was rigged?” The Marshall tilted her head back and the back of one hand rose to cover her mouth as she positively tittered. Her laughter was crystalline, as though someone had struck a glass windchime and set it into motion. “Of course it was rigged, Sergeant. However else were we to retain your services? After all….” The woman’s voice dropped an octave or two, and her smile was a devious one as she turned to regard the midlander. The very air seemed to congeal around her as she spoke, motes of dust… or ash… gathering to cling to her form, a form which grew in mass and size, elongated, gained a few feet in height. Osric recoiled at the sight, tripped over his heels and fell ass first onto the cobblestones. He crawled backwards as best he could, hand over hand until he found himself with his back to a stone bench. The woman who was not a woman, the Hyur who was an Elezen, grinned mercilessly. “...you’ve an appointment to keep.” ”Pierre.” The White Needle bowed. It was an elegant thing, full of grace and flourish… as befitting a former noble of House Durendaire. ‘Former’ because this man had been dead for decades. What stood before Osric now, the midlander knew, was little more and no less than a Crow, an abomination of a tormented soul gifted and cursed with a corpse by which it was chained to the lands of living. ‘Gifted’ because they were possessed of supernatural abilities, abilities which happened to include…. “You… y’never left… never left Ul’dah, you were here… you…” The wheels in his head stopped turning, as if he’d heard the click of one last tumbler falling into place. “You requested assistance from Ortolf,” spoke Pierre as he straightened to inspect the state of his nails, “and he saw to it that our captain stationed me here. To pose as you, as it were. I took the liberty during my stay to look into the current state of affairs. To be more specific, I looked into your state of affairs, Sergeant. After all, Forgehands might be a brute, but he is not as dim-witted as our dear Gnasher. Your mention of the Immortal Flames did not go unnoticed.” “Tch.” “Yes, I never left Ul’dah. Yes, I spied on you, upon your return. Imagine our surprise when we learned that you were to be court-martialed! On trial for your life… why, we couldn’t have that. You are too valuable to risk, far too valuable to lose to a corrupt judicial system.” Osric swallowed. “You… the Marshal… you posed as the Marshal… took her place… had her killed….” Pierre Glaisyer ceased his inspection to glance at the man and scoff at him, “Of course we had her killed. I was needed in her place, to influence deliberations, to insure that you would survive the ordeal. ‘Twould not do to have the woman returned to her station afterward, spouting tall tales of mysterious shapeshifters and conspiracy to see you acquitted. You would not serve nearly so well as our tool were you hounded all your life for escaping justice.” The Hyur ground his teeth, balled and clenched his hands into fists. “Why…? Why, gods damn you? She was innocent, she--!” “She was slated for death the moment you demanded a barrister.” The Elezen shrugged, horrifically dismissive. “When it became evident, when you made it abundantly clear, that the only means by which you might win your freedom for good was through the law, by running the gauntlet as it were… we did so appreciate your turn of phrase, by the by, ‘shadows creeping through your precious pissing palace’, the alliteration is exquisite… then it became necessary for us to intervene. At that moment, she was slated for death. Mine might have done the deed, but rest assured, Sergeant, the responsibility for this collateral is on your hands.” In. Out. In. Out. He breathed. He waited until he’d calmed. Not significantly… but enough. Enough so that he could think. “...what now?” Pierre raised a hand and twirled it with another flourish. He shifted again, lost mass, shrank, changed. Mere moments later, he was the Marshal again. Looked like her. Spoke like her. “Now, you return to your duties. You are to resume your training, three suns a fortnight, until you are deemed ready or until you and the other Gifted are called upon for the finale with Epinoch. What you do with your spare time is entirely up to you, so long as you stand ever ready for the captain’s summons. And remember....” The woman glanced menacingly at the house. “...your friends and your family are not always sequestered behind the safety of Korofi’s wards. They do come and go. ‘Twould be a shame if you or any of the others were to renege on our understanding. Are we understood?” Gods damn you. Gods damn you all. “Aye. What of you?” The Marshal sighed theatrically, chin resting on the knuckles of one hand. “Alas, my task shall see me confined to this wretched place for moons yet. We cannot permit the Immortal Flames to suspect foul play, and as such the woman cannot disappear so soon after your court martial. I shall play the part to the best of my abilities, and shall rejoin the others as soon as I am able.” She - he - stepped forward and knelt, smiling, to caress Osric’s cheek. “Rotunda Crow owns your leash now, little man. Do behave. Come when called. Piss and shite when and where he commands you to. And above all else, do not bite the hand that feeds you.”

BARENGAR AND JANCIS. I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP IF I HAVE TO! :lol:

Question, not because I'm nitpicky but because I want to know how my character would react if they ever run into yours! The fundamental distinction between a pugilist and a monk in the setting is that the latter access stores of aether known as "chakra" with which to fuel their fantastical physical feats. The job quest chain for monks is rather specific on how one learns to access these chakra, and given the canon requirements it's not likely that they are opened by accident. Does Turik have access to his chakra, i.e. does he fuel his physical feats with aether, or is he more of a pugilist in that he's an extremely skilled and/or talented hand-to-hand combatant who manages without? (I am a sucker for pugilist/monk RP, poke me in-game if you ever see me on!)

There is nothing preventing anyone from roleplaying as any of FFXIV's jobs. No matter how much anyone else might try to gainsay that through shaming, the truth is that what you roleplay is entirely up to you, and how well your roleplay is received is entirely up to which crowds you roleplay with. That said, adhering closely to lore out of respect for the setting will mean at least one of two things: 1. If the job in question is extremely rare or almost universally condemned (at the time of writing, that would be WHM and BLM respectively, with SMN and SCH following behind WHM in terms of rarity), then you will more than likely want to write your character such that they go to great lengths to hide and/or conceal their talent(s) from the vast majority of their fellow Eorzeans. 2. If the job in question involves skills or talents that are exceedingly rare or difficult to come by (SMN requires exposure to Primal-aspected aether, SCH requires a pact with a fairy, and WHM involves either the blessing of the elementals or else ridiculously-difficult-to-acquire knowledge), then you will more than likely want to write a backstory for your character that delves into precisely how they managed to achieve, attain, and/or fulfill the basic requirements necessary to be deemed and counted as a SMN/SCH/WHM/whatever.

Don't trust crowdfunding. Don't pay for DLC or cash shop items. Don't shell out cash for expansions that should have been part of the core game. Voila, follow these three easy steps and you are on your way to helping make a difference in the video game industry. Vote. With. Your. Wallet. Signed, Someone Whose Last Major Purchase Outside of MMOs was Dark Souls.

Aya can and will turn that frown upside-down! ...ever the optimist, kukuku.

Well, shit, I somehow didn't get around to posting in this thread. TIME TO CORRECT THAT MISTAKE. Kanaria: Askier: Kahn'a: Mikh'a: Siha: Roen: Yvelont and Kiht: Jameson: Crofte: Berrod: Warren: Verad: Jancis:

The single most important reason (but not the sole important reason) why members on RPC have never been permitted to delete their own threads is that, often times, a thread takes on a life of its own and comes to hold meaning for folks other than the original poster. Imagine if you could delete a lore discussion thread you made in which many generous people provided extensive lore tidbits and explanations. That's a community resource that would simply vanish. Or imagine if one pariticipant in an In-Character roleplay thread suddenly decided to delete that thread, and the other participants hadn't the chance to archive posts upon posts of fascinating character development. Such incidents would constitute abuse cases. The preventative measure of choice here on RPC is simply that users cannot delete their own content short of "blanking" their posts by way of the Edit button. Blanking, at least, does not negatively impact the writings of others. For outliers where deletion is actually justified, reports or PMs to moderators suffice.

Candlejack has always been one of my favorites, thanks Coa

That's fair, and I've had a bad habit of forgetting that 3.0 featured a change to Skillspeed in that it now affects DoT damage courtesy of faster tics. Thanks for the explanation! ...diminishing returns suck. :tonberry:

Typical post-maintenance hiccups, most likely. Should be back to normal soon. ...I say "should".

Now I have to ask because I'm not familiar enough with PLD: why do they favor Skillspeed over Critical Hit Rate this patch? As far as I know, that they lack any standout benefits from Crit is no reason to stop stacking it, and it's not as if PLDs have been given a new TP regen/management method as of late which means they still suffer from TP drain when stacking too much Skillspeed. So... why? Or is this just a matter of their end-game gear favoring one stat more than another?

Wear the gear with the highest item level you can that is appropriate for your role. Typically for tanks that means gear that is restricted to GLD/PLD/MRD/WAR/DRK. Be wary: some class-restricted gear looks like tank gear but lists LNC/DRG as well. These typically have lower defense values than tank gear of equivalent item levels. The rest takes care of itself. Left-hand side tank gear gives the highest amounts of STR and VIT relative to other pieces. At that point, the only question is whether to wear STR accessories or VIT accessories. STR is preferable but VIT is more accomodating and friendly for new players / new tanks. You do not have to worry about secondary stats at all until you have hit level 60 and reached as high an average item level as your skills can earn you. At that point, the rule of thumb for tanks is to prioritize Det > Crit > Skillspeed/Parry, in that order, while meeting any desired accuracy minimums for end-game content.