Shuck

Yeah, dialogues never solve anything. You're totally right. You have truly attained ~*~dark enlightenment~*~. No, but for real, an open dialogue about issues that arise in any community (decentralized or otherwise) is a pretty clear route to eventually fixing problems, even if you have to address each case individually, and there's no silver bullet that fixes all the problems everywhere, forever. Basically, it's a project, not a switch, and you're not 14 anymore, so this kind of thing is not only counter-productive, it's ill-informed. Or. As this other person said it: Good on you, Addison. Some of us think it should be addressed. I agree with those people. I think it should be addressed. You can freely not address it. I don't care what you do. You're not going to stop me, though. You're not even my real dad, I'll do what I want.

You can say pretty much whatever you want, but like a lot situations in life, one of these answers is going to be totally wrong. This, however, is productive. Why. Why do you want to feel wanted? What makes you feel unwanted? Let's get uncomfortably specific here.

These are great fucking questions, no lie. I mean, I don't even think these people are particularly helpful, but you raise a great point: Who cares if the RPC doesn't acknowledge you? Why would anyone? This is part of the problem. This need for validation. Also: See, this is why these threads are good, and communication is good. Right here. It's fucking beautiful.

So check this out. No, for real, check it out: A solidly constructed character is not dependent on setting. Captain Nemo is Captain Nemo no matter what the setting may be. King Arthur is King Arthur, even if you call him something else, and throw him into the far future. A narrative starring a character that is entirely dependent on setting and namedrops is fanfiction. There's nothing wrong with fanfiction, people love it, whatever. But, like...let's not pretend that FFXIV is an entirely original setting. It's Fantasy World #3000. There's swords. There's magic. They got goofy names for gods and stuff. Just now, someone's decided guns are cool, and magic guns are cooler still. We've all done this a million times. The only thing that changes is the names of the cities, and what you call the races. Little details. A core personality is not details. Details, when regarding people, are measured in experiences. In summary: Making a new character every single time doesn't make you cool or interesting. Not making a new character every single time doesn't make you cool or interesting. None of you people are cool or interesting, and neither am I. Ok, so on topic: Isaac Jacobi, my character in 1.0 and into 2.whogivesafuck is basically Captain Nemo. I'm not lying, he's a guy with a head for building shit that was adamantly against imperialism and oligarchal governments. Through repeated attempts to share what was basically an expression of hope with the rest of the world, and being told, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't wanted because of his station/background/upbringing/doesn't matter, he retreated inward, and set on a goal to build himself what was basically to be his own little microcosm. Experiences saw him shoved down the road of a violent, ruthless freedom fighter, and eventual inventor recluse. You see this? You see this shit above? This is called brevity. On Clementine: Really, I just wanted to do a different thing with ESO, so I watched The Raid instead of thinking super hard about things, because that's exactly how you end up with overwrought, impossibly boring and hard to believe characters. I decided she would be a kind of lawman, and that her experiences growing up would've been as a kind of lazy fuckabout who like to drink, fight, and was grudgingly put through school. Such was her spite that she did very well, in an effort to never see any kind of schooling again. Experiences in XIV have taken her into military service, and now she heads Misericorde. Again. Motherfucking brevity. You use...you know, you use fewer words to convey basic ideas, because it's fucking impossible to sum up a character with a D&D alignment and a bunch of pictures. Ya'll feel me? Don't you worry. You will.

Just a year? Bitch, you be trippin'. Anyway, the walls might appear thick, but what's thicker still is the padding of egos. Reaching out to others means admitting you're probably not as cool as you think you are. It means accepting that you don't know what'll happen, and that you might actually be wrong about some shit. Just dead wrong. Totally, completely wrong. And being wrong is not something roleplayers like. They see rules, and think of prisons. That goes for the old guard too, not just new people. The problem's double-sided.

And another addendum: It also helps keep a recurring issue present in literally every single roleplayer hub (including this one) in focus. When you see something become a pattern, you look into it, regardless of how much you might personally care. Like me, I don't know these people, and I couldn't possibly give less of a shit about cliques, and inner circles, and the myriad of motherfuckers RP'ing in /party, in their houses, or holding a "private" session in a public place (which is hilarious in it's own right). But...I mean, is the goal here really to just shut down communication? Is this a thread you want to see repeated? When do we, as hobbyists, look at what goes on and honestly talk about shit, then? Is it never? Do we want it to be never?

Addendum: There's this bizarre current that courses through every single roleplaying community that walking up to a stranger is somehow intrusive. What are you interrupting that's so gravely important? Have we seriously all forgotten that a ton of us are grownups playing pretend? I've also noticed, in my years sitting mostly outside of these kinds of gatherings, that there is an expectation of being immediately welcomed to anything and everything. Roleplayers take great pains to make sure that egos are never bruised, "drama" (poorly defined colloquialism that it is) is kept to a minimum, and conflict always has to end in some mutually agreeable fashion. It all speaks of fear to me. Mostly of some kind of unfair persecution, which...I mean, I've been playing makebelieve for more of my life than I haven't been, and I can say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we as a "community" have pretty much earned every bit of derision that anyone may have "suffered". We're, as an aggregate, thin-skinned, whiney, attention seeking brats. The thing is: You don't have to just be this aggregate. You can walk up to strangers without interrupting anything, because this is a social activity by it's very nature. You don't have to pad egos, and try to find mutually agreeable endings to conflicts. You don't even have to specifically engineer conflicts, really. I guess the trick would be for everyone to stop being so bizarrely controlling over every little minute detail that they experience when it comes to a community oriented activity like roleplaying, and actually accept what comes naturally, rather than continuing with this cycle of behavior that sees complaints like this pop up over and over again. Or don't. Like my BAE up there said: Do whatever you want, we really don't care. Fake Edit: I fucking called you BAE. Fake Edit 2: No, seriously. Walk up to us whenever.

Yeah, unfortunately, the point in time he was describing saw us shelling a mine to kill two people, shooting a woman in the stomach, burning down a crypt and a library with phosphor bombs, and crashing a hijacked airship (we didn't hijack it, we just wrecked it) outside of Ishgard, and stealing components before the authorities arrived. Really, Sentinel's Ark probably never should've hired us. Oh, we were also totally prepared to leave the majority of them to die in that mine. In case there was any, and I do mean any further questions about who we are, or what we did, there's some links up in the old recruitment post there. Read those. Anyway, no harm in asking. Any other questions, feel free.

The latter never really existed. We did strange things, but there was more of a lovecraftian bent toward unexplained and unknowable things that arose as a direct result of curiosity in areas that were on shaky scientific ground at best. Mistaking us for being comparable to a comedy movie, at any point, does a great disservice to the comedy movie. Simply put: We're not terribly funny. Our appeal has always been narrow. I'm an awful person. Just, like...in general. The Ghostbusters were charming characters in humorous situations. If you wanted to draw parallels here, you'd be better off with a classical literature mash-up, given the themes and personalities present. There was a bit of Herbert West of Reanimator. A lot of Captain Nemo. A few dashes of Arthurian influences. Heavy emphasis on desperation, post and near apocalyptic settings. With that clarified, let me answer: Neither. Misericorde's leadership has swapped to different hands, character-wise, with Isaac pulling largely away from society, and focusing on providing information, experimental weapons and armor to the people in the field. Clementine, the woman now in charge of actually running things, is a different character with different sensibilities when it comes to how things go. As it stands, the group's only stated goal is to aid with quelling the rising problems in Ishgard. How they go about that will develop organically. Fake Edit: Yeah, but that effort post, though.

You're right, I should. Fake edit: Oh wait, you're already a member, so you can go to hell, I'll do what I want.

What she said. New entries incoming, but we're around. PM for details if interested.

I don't even know who you people are, but you're all terrible at following directions. Except Bea. I know who she is, and I expected her to be terrible at following directions.

No, seriously. You people robbed me of my zero reputation, and I still miss it. Returning to XIV with the expansion on the horizon. Important information is to the left. Have this, though:

Misericorde is still around.

((So, recently, I thought I would catalyze some shit within our little group, and I got some excellent responses. So great that I'd like to make this a running thing. I gave it a title and everything! Here's Misericorde's first collaboration. As more trickle in, feel free to add to this.)) [align=center]Hand in unlovable hand.[/align] A call goes out over the Misericorde linkshell. The voice of the captain is sombre. Tired. A bit ragged. He tells you: Ladies. Gentlemen. My friends, compatriots...brothers. Sisters. Ms. Reid, whatever you'd like to categorize yourself as. I need you to listen to me. I need you to digest the words that I am broadcasting here and now. I need you to understand the gravity of what I am going to say. Today, I have, in no uncertain terms, robbed you of a liberty. One that, unfortunately, I do not believe you needed to possess. I have taken from you the option of surrender. Venture to your delivery boxes. Open the package inside. Witness the first shot fired. Upon retrieving the item in question, one might puzzle as to it's function. A simple, brass object. No larger than a hand-mirror, with a finely polished lens of some sort. Holding it to the light reveals an image in the lens, as well as an indentation to place one's thumb. Upon doing so, the image begins to move. Sound is projected through the user's pearl, likely a result of the tingling sensation snaking up the arm. In the lens, a grainy, colorless image of Captain Jacobi stands, horned helmet spattered with blood and dirt, face smeared with ash, looking over the walls of an Imperial supply station. He addresses them. "Citizens, soldiers, and conscripts under the Garlean banner. I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Isaac Jacobi. I live here. I would like to keep living here. But you see, you've made that difficult." A call goes up for the gate guards. "I wouldn't bother." Remarks the captain. He plants his axe, blade heated to a glow, in the surface of the wall's walkway. "They were beset by one of those Eorzean savages. Dreadful sight out there. As I was saying: You've made that difficult. You came here dreaming of conquest. Of glory. Of cleansing this continent of the filth that infests it, and to these ambitious goals, I tip my...helmet. No hat to my name, I'm afraid." The captain unslings something from his shoulder. A large, heavy sack. It drops at his feet with a great clanging. "For I would be remiss if I were to denounce you as monsters for acting on the wishes that most great nations of our age and ages past have shared. But I cannot grant you what you seek. I will not. I have no glory to give. I cannot deliver your more militant to a good death. What I have for you..." Isaac's weapon, dreadful shortsword/magitek item that it was is drawn. "Is fire." A shot rings out. The device's searing bolt of condensed aether makes impact within the Ceruleum stores. Panic erupts as a chain reaction hurls burning, toxic fuel in all directions. "And pain." He kicks the sack at his feet over the wall, scattering silver cannisters in front of the entrance. With a few pressurized pops, they burst, blocking the only remaining escape with white clouds. A few try to brave the miasma, only to stagger back, choking, their skin burning and parting as the chemical agents set to work. The captain aims his weapon again, first barrel still smoldering. "And horror." Another shot rings out, wounding the foreman. Ensuring he would not be able to leave, but would be able to report. "This, you may all consider my official declaration of war. Regardless of what the other companies decide. Regardless of what the leaders of our nations decide, the Misericorde will oppose you. I. Will oppose you. Good day." The image freezes, with the Captain's face staring outward at a burning repository. Recognizeable shapes scatter the picture's landscape. They reach, they cry, they cover their faces. Few opted for a quicker death than the ones closing in on them. In the case of Uther Skystrider: "My official declaration of war." His words were as plain as day. After Captain Jacobi's broadcast ended, I leaned against the wall and sunk down. I sat there for an appreciable amount of time, contemplating what I had just seen. I joined the crew of the Misericorde mere weeks ago, and here was this man, openly declaring war on the greatest military force of our time. Upon first meeting Jacobi, I felt he was a man of strong, if a bit eccentric, character. I trusted him. But it seems I've been conscripted by a madman to fight in an unsanctioned war against the Garlean Empire. The thought of it seems horrifying. The consequences of it, outside of our own deaths, could be dire. For the past five cycles, we've been in a staring contest with the Empire. What if we strike and they decide to strike back against /all of us/? Not just Misericorde, but the Grand Companies, or even civilians. Can a motley crew of ruffians really hope to shoulder the responsibility of an entire war? Is it worth these consequences? But... On the same token, is this "staring contest" really anything more than an illusion to begin with? Do the Garleans not have spies in our armies and soldiers in our towns? They hide in our land and kill, bribe, and blackmail our people. Three suns ago, I heard of an airship crash which was intercepted by their soldiers on Limsa Lominsan territory. All hands tortured, interrogated, and murdered for using technology from Garlond Ironworks to simply improve travel for the people of Eorzea. Killed in their own homeland for trying to better the world, for gods' sakes. To my shame, my response was a slight gesture of sympathy, and a prompt return to my daily business. Five cycles ago, before becoming an unknown lancer's instructor, I was a dragoon. A noble and highly skilled warrior of Ishgard. I left my home /forever/ to put these dogs in their place. I witnessed the horrors of their unholy machinations when the moon itself fell from the sky, and the beast from within destroyed thousands of lives. I cannot help but admit that I have felt the same rage against these monsters that Captain Jacobi feels now. While I absolutely can /not/ condone his use of chemicals to deal out death and terror to his foes, I would be lying if I said that I don't understand, or even appreciate, his willingness to fight back. Perhaps I have become soft in my relative retirement. I have forgotten why I came to this place to begin with. These Imperials will trample us underfoot, given the chance. That I know for certain. I have always been one to fight defensively, and not proactively seek combat. Initially after the broadcast, I must admit I considered Captain Jacobi a psychopath-- an outright terrorist even. Something he said has stuck with me though. "I live here. I would like to keep living here. But see, you've made that difficult." He's absolutely right. These parasites are encroaching on our homes. Testing our resolve to fight back. Provoking us. Trying to start a war. Causing us to live in fear every single day. Is it not our duty to defy them? To defend ourselves? I have seen war, and of it I am not afraid. I have bore witness to fire and blood and death and /horror/ since I was merely fifteen cycles old. If Captain Jacobi means to truly liberate Eorzea from under the boot of the Empire, should I not place the same trust in him that I did initially? His methods are drastic, and I will play no part in the gassing of soldiers, for that I am certain and unwavering. All-in-all, however, he /is/ fighting the fight I wish I could. I know Jacobi. I have spoken to him and fought with him before. His methods, however severe, are the only way he feels he can win this battle. I owe it to Eorzea to help him, don't I? He has led us this far, and I believe that despite his outward roughness and extremist methods, his heart is in the right place. I have no choice but to help him in this battle, and perhaps, if I can, steer him to more humane methods of combat. There is no room for mixed emotions on this battlefield, though, and I /will/ stand behind the Captain. My blood will be spilled and I will fight these monsters to my dying breath if I must. A Skystrider takes to the fray once more, it seems. I'll let the other lancer's instructors know of my coming departure. In the case of Jeris Guillford: "No no no, I'm telling you, it's women like YOU that keep me coming back to Ul'dah." He was grinning from ear to ear, one arm around a petite hyur girl with long golden locks and bronzed skin, his other around a shapely elezen woman with short cropped black hair and fairer skin, both of them dressed a -tad- more revealing than most Ul'dan women. The girls certainly seemed to be having a good time, there were a number of empty mugs on their table and they shared in his laughter, their faces alight with smiles of their own. Not that this was an uncommon sight mind you, his time in the arena had gathered just enough local fame to have fun with and begin building a name before he left to adventure abroad in Eorzea. "It's with an honest heart I tell you that Ul'dan women are the finest in all of Eorzea. Why else would I keep coming back to----" He paused in his placation when the faint chime of a linkshell message resonated within his ear. "ahhhh..." he brought his arm up from around the elezen woman, offering an apologetic smile as he reached up to press his fingers against his ear. "Gods forgive me ladies, it'll be just a moment." ".....I need you to understand the Gravity of what I am going to say." The Captain's words sent a sobering sensation through his body and he shifted a bit starting to rise from his seat. "Ironblooded.....?" The Elezen pleaded with a look of dissapointment, using his Arena nickname to try and coerce him. "Where are you going? We want to hear more...!" The hyur girl nodded in agreement, giving her best doe eyed expression. "And I want to tell it! I'd never find better company than beauties such as yourselves, but alas I'm afraid tonight is not the night. I'll make it up to you, just keep an eye out." He flashed a quick wink and a grin before turning from them and heading over to the nearest delivery station to retrieve the package, the captain finishing his intial instructions and speech just as he lay hands on the device. The words were sobering enough, the device itself certainly seemed to be something intended for private use. Making his way back into the Quicksand, he grabbed a bottle of the strongest spiced rum they had and retired to his chambers. --------------------------------------------------------- He sat the device onto the small table in the corner of his room he currently occupied. Next to it sat a bottle of rum, half consumed and a small, cheap glass with shot's worth of the amber liquid within. He wasn't shocked, haggard, or appauled, nor did he have a look of excitement or eagerness after the Captain's stirring, and brutal speech. Instead he just sat there a few moments more before leaning forward and letting his face fall into his hands, taking a deep breath. "This seems about right." He finally said after a few moments. "You can run all you want, but you can't run from who you are. Innat right? Figures that after all these years, when I finally decide to try and make a difference, I find myself closer to where I started out." He reached out and quickly knocked back the glass of ale before slamming it back down with a wince. Another slow deep breath followed as he took a moment to look over his hands. "....does the color of blood change if it's done in the name of a good cause I wonder?" "....stupid, talking to myself." He brought a hand up to pinch at his nose before reaching back to the bottle. As he did so he caught a brief distorted reflection of his face and he paused, turning his head a bit to look over the scars along his lip and cheek. He finished the motion, grabbing the bottle, but instead of pouring out another shot, he brought it closer, using it as a mirror to look over the scars a bit closer, his mind wandering back to the reason he had them, the reason he decided to strike out and try and make a difference in the first place, his son. "What about you I wonder? Would you respect me more for trying to be the lie I convinced you I was?" He paused, a tremor of emotion running through him as his jaw tightened. "....or maybe be closer to the monster I actually had been...but make the world a better place for you in the process?" He sat the bottle to the side, quickly bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes, laughing as he did so. "Seven hells....forgot how much I missed you, boy." He rose up from the seat and took in another deep breath, running his hands up through his black and silver peppered hair. "That's it then!" He said with renued enthusiasm, spinning around and pointing to the bottle. "....damned sorry of me to think less of you just by appealing to a picture I tried to paint. You're better than that boy, better than me. So in turn I'll make the world better for you, regardless of how it might damn me." He strode back to the table and knelt down, staring at his reflection in the bottle. "...maybe in the process, I can help the Captain find a way with the least horror, if there is one, or at the very least, spare some of the others from the worst of it." He nodded to the reflection, a look of determination in his eye for a split second before he realized just how foolish he appeared. Shaking his head, he rose up with a laugh and corked the bottle. "That's enough madness for now....there'll be plenty in the future." In the case of Velkyron Korvaskr: A loud racket rang out the door of Velkyron Korvaskr's rather homely workshop. Various materials laid organized neatly: unrefined ore and gems in small boxes lined on a wooden shelf, numerous types of bones strung out in order of size from the size of a moogle's pompom to the average height of a midlander, and stacks of metal bars in orderly fashion next to a faintly glowing furnace, each in a specific place and specific orientation. ...The other side of the room, however, was a different matter: various fragments of silver ore decorated in a chaotic fashion about the desk, weaved around the large roegadyn who had fallen asleep on the workdesk, sitting uncomfortably in a chair that was somewhat small for his stature. A slight stir and mumble breaks from his mouth, piercing blue eyes flicking open as he pushed off the workdesk with a grumble, leaving the fragments of his latest projects in disarray. He glanced down at the mess with a frown curling over his face before he rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and frustration as his other hand reached up to readjust his bandanna, tucking in some of his light blue hair into the cloth. But...why had he gotten up again...? That same knock kept thundering from the door in the other room. Looking to a clock with an annoyed sigh, he flatbrowed, lazily plodding to the door before rather heavily slamming it open with lack of amusement painted on his face. The moisture from the long overdue rain of the current thunderstorm met his already foul demeanour. He barely focused at who was at the door, speaking on autopilot: "Thank you for choosing Korvaskr's Silver. We're currently not taking any customers as it is {four} in the godsdamned morning. Please try again at another time. We sincerely apologise for any inconvenience this may cause." The roegadyn slammed the door on the individuals who had made the terrible mistake of interrupting his sleep. As he turned to stomp back to his workdesk to clean up, he heard a muffled response from the rain and wood: "We have information regarding a Lihtgeim Sylbthubyrwyn." ...that was all that was said as the roegadyn stopped in his tracks, slowly turning back to the door as he plodded back, slowly opening the door to catch the appearance of three individuals in armor. Brass Blades. ...but what the hell would they know of... Velkyron narrowed his eyes, slowly opening the door. "Get inside. We'll talk pure business." His tone immediately shifted to one of clear interest but also wariness, watching as the trio plodded inside the small workshop, watching as the water from the rain dripped onto his floors. ...he had {just} cleaned and dried them the night prior, the urge to grab his rags and equipment... No, there would be time for that. Focus. This was important. This was what he had been holding out on for nearly ten years. He looked over the trio, two male hyur and an elezen woman. The latter was apparently doing the talking. "I am correct in assuming that you have been looking for this individual, yes?" "Uh..." Velk closed his eyes in thought, shifting his bandanna as he struggled to remember...the missing person's check he made amidst all three citystates. But that was five years ago... "...yes. The deposit of payment was to be delivered on the obtaining of said information. One moment." The roegadyn briskly shuffled over to a corner of the room where he had kept a safe, eyes narrowing as his shaking hands nervously shifted in trying to find the large bag of gil he had always kept, just for this moment. For that one off chance someone found something. The sound of clanking armor could be heard without much issue, though the roegadyn thought nothing of it as he reached for the large bag of coin. Sitting back up, he looked over to notice the hyur were missing--and in the next room. "OI! Git outta there! That's my workspace--" The cock of a musket was heard as the elezen remaining aimed her gun at Velkyron's chest. "Save it. Just sit quiet until they're finished." With a raise of his hands, the Roe's eyes widened as he took a few steps back, nervously shifting his gaze into the other room. He didn't want them messing up the order he had created. ...or at least, making worse of the chaos on his desk. "Sir! He has an order for Isaac Jacobi on his desk. Looks like wiring of some kind." One of the hyurs barked as the other walked in with a box of unfinished crafts. All out of alignment and out of place from being so recklessly moved about. He tried to reach for the container-- "Don't move, Korvaskr. Working with terrorists then, is it? Making sure innocents die right on time? Perhaps we can let this transgression off as a mistake if you tell us what you know," The elezen smirked. "...or perhaps we should let the pirates of Limsa know that Sterrberk is alive and kicking, hmm?" Velkyron froze, time seeming to come to a halt in place as his eyes and mouth opened wide in shock. This could not be happening. Not now. Not after things were looking so well. He survived his shipwreck from the Cataclysm for {this}? No...no, he refused to accept that. There had to be {something} he could do. "F...Fine. I'll tell you what I know about him. Just...just let me clean up my desk. A good chunk of the order is written down there. I'll give it to you, and that will be that. Promise." The elezen narrowed her eyes before only slightly lowering her firearm, motioning the roe to do his business. "You have a minute. Go." The roegadyn nodded as he carefully, slowly lumbered about the three to get to his work desk, his thick fingers trailing along all the various debris, papers, and everything else cluttered about his desk. Breathe. A plan. Something to get out of this. Jacobi's work forms were there. It made sense to give them those papers. Get justice on the man who, at this point, ruined his life. ...but his instinct yelled at him, saying that {he} was in danger. And without a reason to keep him alive, then he'd likely be dead. Breathe. He shifted a hand to his side, feeling the small dagger he kept to his hip. So there was that. But against three armed guards? Little chance. OK. Breathe. He collected the papers he could, shuffling them in his hands haphazardly and shaking as he aligned them in a stack, reaching for his order book as he placed the pages into it and closed it. Breathe. As long as he had the details, he was still valuable. He needed to keep it that way. That would ensure survival. "Time's up. Better have everything." The elezen tsked, motioning Velkyron over as his attention shifted towards her. The predatory sneer on her face complemented the roegadyn's own: struck with fear. In the same, slow lumbering fashion, the roegadyn nudged past the two hyur until he was in front of the elezen. The door was to his right. And he was surrounded by three otherwise. Breathe. He shakily held out the book to the elezen, fear crippling his senses and instinct as it took hold. "H-Here. That's everythin'." A spark jolted through the roegadyn as his entire form briefly clenched. Something he had not felt in years. Something that screamed, cried at him to break his fear. Break to his instinct. Embrace its freedom from doubt. He was going to die if he did not do anything. Flee. His left fist clenched, twitched as it twisted upwards to slam into the elezen with a swift uppercut, right hand gripping his book tightly as he pushed himself from the floor, shoulder checking his door. The old door crumbled under the large weight of the roegadyn, splinters and fragments bouncing off of the rain-soaked road as he skidded to a halt in the middle of the alley. Gunshots rang out as a bolt of metal dig into his left shoulder as he yelped out in pain. Run. With a hasty shuffling of his feet, Velkyron lurched forward down the road and into the twisted alleyways of Ul'dah, book in hand and arm only temporarily dulled by endorphins. He didn't know where to go. He needed to just not be there. He could hear the din of the footsteps rumble and splash behind him, the drops of rain piercing him more than the shot to his shoulder. Thoughts were muddled and washed away by instinct. But instinct had a way of helping him get out. Escape. Escape! He needed to get out of Ul'dah! Away from the others who had ruined his life--no, thoughts couldn't drift to that now. The present was what mattered-- Another gunshot rang out, the displacement of air piercing his ears as he felt the metal rush so close to his face. And its source became apparent with following clicking sounds of failing shots. Velkyron looked to his side, finding the hyur abandoning his firearm in lieu of the sword at his side. Dispatch. If he didn't fight now, he would be dead even with the books. But with his left arm out of commission...the roegadyn dropped the book as he couched slightly, watching hyur charge at him with blade in hand. His right hand slipped to his side, gripping the hilt of his hidden dagger as he feigned a similar uppercut to the one he had dealt to the elezen. As the hyur made the blow to counter, the roe rotated his torso from the left to the right, impeding the swing of the blade as his right hand flicked his small dagger up as it was shoved through the man's neck with a sickening schlick, a familiar sound. With a shove, Velkyron twisted the dagger out of the hyur as he splashed limp onto the walkway. As the roe looked over his left shoulder, the other hyur aimed the blade towards his wounded left shoulder. Another twitch of reaction, the roe dropped his dagger as his hand went straight for the man's neck, crunching it in his grip as he quickly swung himself and the hyur by his neck against the wall behind him with a wrenching crack. And it all came naturally from instinct. As if it had never left him. Snapping from his half-second reverie, Velkyron snatched up his dagger and the now ruined tome in his right hand as he rushed towards the Aetherite plaza, checking around each corner he slipped over as he caught sight of the familiar blue from the alcove the massive crystal took place in. Freedom. With splash after splash of his heavy footfalls, the rain seeming to dig into his skin, Velkyron rushed to the crystal that was his salvation, gripping his items tightly as he entered the plaza, nearly tripping down the steps. From the right side of his vision, he saw the glint of rain-soaked armor. His eyes widened as the familiar figure stood out, gun in hand as she aimed it towards him. In one last desperate measure, Velkyron jumped from where he stood, flinging about his left arm to grasp at what he could of the crystal. He didn't have a destination set as his hand glanced the Aetherite. As the gun shot another time. As the pain in his shoulder became all the more obvious. As he felt himself being transported through the Aether. There was only one place he wanted to be: Anywhere but here.

Wait, am I to understand that biology is not related to sexy time?

Actually, at this point, you're de-railing it. By insisting it was de-railed when it has not, in fact, been de-railed. Nobody asked you to be. This was a statement of fact. This is the wrong choice for you. No, dude. We can't. There's no breeder willing to sell his product that would not want his product to be more desirable. Extra health care expenses are not a desirable trait in a product, and leads to a higher turnover in trophy-dogs. If at all possible, these breeders would have, for pure market interest alone, removed these undesirable traits from their breeds in order to make them more marketable to a broader base of people, so that they could make more money through higher volume of sales. The dogs that are "just fine" are outbred every now and again to ensure that there's significant genetic drift within the family line. They may not use other breeds of dogs, but they limit inbreeding as much as possible. Nobody finds respiratory issues "attractive". Nobody finds leaky, diseased anal glands "attractive". You're off base. I'm arguing that the counter of reputation is irrelevant. You've yet to address that. It's still irrelevant. It bears no meaning on the actual merit of anything being discussed. I can give everyone a +1 on everything. Freely. It amounts to nothing. No, that's science. Science determines what is, and isn't a hominid, or like a hominid. On this kangaroo thing, which you seem weirdly hooked on, they're still not even close to being like hominids. What with them being marsupials. They use their long, heavy tails for balance (something that hominids don't have)and as a brace to stand upright, hop for locomotion (which hominids aren't likely to do), develop their young in a pouch, have elongated jaws with relatively small craniums... I mean, I can't believe you're even trying to argue this, but ok. You're wrong in every way possible. I mean, they're part of the Macropodidae family of Marsupials, which is preeeettty physically divorced from hominids, or anything resembling them, so it's like...what the fuck are you even on about? Anyway, Miqo'te have a lot more in common with modern hominids than anything else. We've already established that their method of locomotion is the same as any other upright biped. Their tails aren't large or heavy enough to account for any balance, and are basically vestigial. They can even have babies with humans and shit. Like for real. I'm not joking. There ain't no kangaroo-man babies out there. Because they're not similar in the least. Really, that last bit shoots your argument entirely to shit by itself, but I'm gonna go ahead and leave you this right here so you can chart for yourself exactly how many degrees by which you're wrong. On a more personal note, this is still a terrible attempt. It really, really is. You can't argue that discussions don't get to evolve (or ignore the part where I showed up well after the direction of the discussion had changed) simply because you don't like me. I don't need you to like me. Nobody needs you to like me. Nobody cares that you don't. On top of that, you can't throw out something like "KANGAROOS AIN'T A MAN SO HOW A MIQO'TE A MAN!?!?" and expect that to fly when they're genetically similar enough to have offspring. It's also weird that you're apparently upset about being told you're wrong on this outrageous attempt at a strawman fallacy in claiming that I have, singlehandedly, argued that this is not worth discussing (you've erected an argument that wasn't presented, and then went ahead and attacked it. I'm just clarifying, because apparently you think "hominid" is a fluid term, not a specific one, so who knows what else is unclear for you.) Also, then there's this kangaroos being like miqo'te, even though they're obviously not even kind of, and...your whole point is just a mess. It's a huge mess. A huge wrong mess. So yeah. Miqo'te: Pretty much just people with cat ears and a goofy tail. As such, not terribly "mysterious" or "special". This isn't a bad thing, it's just a thing that is.

This was the wrong decision for you. Fact remains that it's an undesirable trait that we can't quite breed out of them. We would if we could! Because that would mean less issues in taking care of the damned thing, and a longer-standing trophy. But we can't, because the code's too junked. Nice. Anyway, that's not an opinion, the total number of reputation points that someone gets from a post don't matter. Does my 17 reputation prove I'm super cool? No. It doesn't. In fact, I wish you motherfuckers would stop giving me reputation points. I liked it at zero. Anyway, fact, not opinion: They don't matter. Kangaroos aren't hominids. I specified hominids. You ignored that, for some reason. So, no. No, I'm not, and that's not the argument being presented, and this was a bad attempt at standing up to a "meanie". I'm not antagonizing. I'm providing my point of view, same as anyone else. I don't really care that you don't like it. I find it odd that you attempt to shrug off valid points with "BUT THAT'S YOUR OPINION!" like it means anything. It doesn't. My opinion is as weighty as any other. Also, I never said it wasn't worth discussing. You're making up arguments that weren't presented, and you're not the first to try that. I said that the depth to which this has been discussed is odd. It's odd. I find it odd. Tough shit.

Limited value to a small number of people, and is as unnecessary a talking point as hard data backing up the "value" of the statement. Basically, we're saying that nobody cares how many reputation points you got for it, and it doesn't effect our opinion of the subject matter in this thread in any way, shape, or form. Personally, I can't fathom why you would even think it's worth bringing up. I think the sentiment here is more along the lines of "You've dug entirely too deeply, and are entrenching yourself in territory that's not entirely sound, and may attract a lot more negative, weird bullshit than it will positive." Nnnno. No, this is a public forum, where we discuss things out in the open so everyone can see and contribute to them. We're gonna go ahead and keep using it as such, obeying the established rules of course. We have been! Thanks for the endorsement. We'll keep doing so. The fact that people disagree with you does not lower the quality of the thread. You don't get to claim shit like that. Honestly, this isn't even a very good veil for what amounts to a personal insult. Do you really think that nobody can tell that you're throwing this crap out there? Because it's not that hard to decipher. Let's not behave like adolescents. We know you've got people you like. We know you don't really like us. Big goddamned deal. We're gonna take part in this discussion anyway, and that has no bearing on it's quality. Nah, they honestly just resemble tribal humans. Like, that's it. A ton of tribes that still exist worldwide have power structures like this. In fact, if they were more non-human in behavior, the rules wouldn't be quite so rigid. Onward. We always have our teeth out. It's a problem, we know, but braces are expensive. Sylvari aside, sure, they're supposed to be vastly different, but they aren't. Orcs are observably similar to Barbarian human tribes (because that's who they're supposed to be), Elves are similar enough in everything they appear to produce viable offspring with humanity, and their social structure is always something similar to "Noble" society in whatever time-period they're part of, and the Trolls in Warcraft are skating some really shady territory with the fantasy genre's tendency toward racist caricatures. I mean, granted, none of it's supposed to be serious, but these are easily identifiable societies and rituals because they're all human rituals. The only ones that stand out in this crowd are the Sylvari, who are just kind of aping humans. They reproduce via falling out of a pod. Like a seed. Sure, they're equipped for sexual relations, but that's, according to the lore, largely because the tree is trying to imitate the dead guy by it's roots. It so does not in a few of those cases. Societally, none of these people are distinct from humanity. None of them. At all. Physically, you have a point with the Elezen, Roegadyn, and Lalafell. We have no idea what's going on in there. We know that Hyur are humans. We know that. Just like "Humes" were human. They're supposed to be "us", and arguing that they're something else entirely is kind of a useless endeavor. You'll push that stone up that hill forever. Anyway, as for each of these races having a different outlook on shit, nobody's arguing that. They probably have as varied an outlook on this as any group of people in the real world. But none of these viewpoints deviate from what we can see in the real world. They just don't. Elves occupy the "Noble" stratum, once again, with the Dark Elves being more solitary and mistrusting. Roegadyn are comparable to any other seafaring society that's ever existed. They have raiders. Most are fishers. They sail. The ones that live near the volcano worship it. On, and on, and on. What's being posed here, in this particular sub-discussion, is that there's nothing radically different that would separate us, out here, in the real world, from the races portrayed in this game. That's not true. I've said "it's wrong", but I've expounded upon why before. I'll do it again here: Exclusive inbreeding on this scale would require a working knowledge of bad alleles and how they get passed along in order to maintain a healthy genetic stock. Natural selection doesn't do all the work it has to do in an organized society of sentient individuals, so all it would take is one particularly crafty individual that doesn't know he's a trainwreck of genetic disorders to seize power, and fuck up an entire generation. Because the Miqo'te have no fucking idea what genetic engineering is, and in a tribal society, wouldn't know a sickness until it produced symptoms (which is entirely too late). On top of that, with homogenous genes comes the risk of a single disease wiping a tribe out. Then there's the myriad of issues we see popping up in a really handy real world example: Pedigree dogs. We watch their genetic health. We selectively breed them. We control as many variables in that environment as we can, and they are still prone to a great deal of health issues that mixed-breeds just don't get. Her original post negates all of this in favor of selling her hypothesis. It's bad science, good salesmanship. There. There you have it. And it also doesn't account for the people who, like us, don't find it helpful/see some major flaws in the thinking. What about it? We've already established that it's a pointless thing to throw out there, and the message being broadcast was "This doesn't matter, don't try to use it as a talking point." Yeah, peer review can be rough. Sometimes, you're totally right. Creativity gets stifled, and that sucks. It sucks a whole bag of dicks. Other times, an idea is just fucking bad. Not even necessarily on it's own! Let's take a walk: Say that everyone is suddenly inspired to make a character that is just a little bit special. Great. Awesome. Say they even all somehow, magically find a way to make their specialness unique. Holy shit, this is amazing, right? No. See, now everyone is special. And that means being special ain't all that special. It becomes mundane. When it becomes mundane, you can kind of start to ignore it. When you can start to ignore it, becomes narratively superfluous, and at that point, ditch it, because you're wasting your time. When people are steered away from these "special" things, they tend to focus more on making a character that actually functions...like...a person. Which is great! In my opinion, it's the only goddamned way to go. Because people don't have gimmicks. They don't have one thing that makes them unique. They're a complex mish-mash of shit, and it's the messy, half-made nature of us all that makes for compelling stories. Anyway, back on point: This has nothing to do with not thinking a bit more. Nobody's being lazy about this. You're just talking about a race that's observably human. We know they eat, sleep, drink, produce waste, and breathe. So their internal structures have gotta be pretty similar, given that they're also all bipedal hominid-style things. Their societies are similar to ours (falling just figurative micrometers short of being direct mirrors). They're us. And they're us, because we made them. There's no getting around that. Actually, there's a great deal of things we can tell just by looking at them. Their sense of smell can't be all that much better, because they don't have any additional space to put the nasal cavities needed for advanced scent detection. There's just no room for the extra chemoreceptors. We can also figure that they don't have sight that's much better than ours in any light. There's no reflection to their eyes in the dark when light hits it. Which means no tapetum. Which is a reflective membrane that lets cats and dogs see pretty well in the dark. We know that their tail counts for nothing, because tails don't really help bipeds. An animal that uses a tail for balance typically has a long, heavy one. They lean forward, because the mass of the tail pulls them backward. Bipeds stand upright, so a long, heavy tail would actually serve to put them on their heels. Which would make them easier to knock over. Can't speak for the hearing, as the most we know is that their ears are shaped a little differently, but are largely the same size. They probably hear things very well in the direction that their ears are pointed, but due to the shape, not so great when it comes to things they aren't pointed at. We can also say that the position of their ears would be...interesting for the inside of their skull. They'd need to have large cavities to facilitate all that inner-ear business, which would leave less room for brain. Alternatively, the cavities are not large, and they don't hear as well as you'd think. Basically, when we get down to it, I don't think the Miqo'te can be more interesting than "human in costume" unless we talk more about how human they are, and less about their goofy ears and useless tail.

No, no. You're coming at that statement too narrowly, and I should've clarified. They're observably more human than not in just about every way. They think, they feel, they reason, and they create just like humans do. There's no distinction between human and Miqo'te that isn't a few superfluous physical quirks. Also, whether you realize it or not, your attraction is still influenced by physiology, and things that equate to power. Click these words for a blurb on the matter that links to a big ol' published paper. And that works in reverse. Red means "power" to your brain. Power is attractive. That's universal. I know you said you quit, and whatever, but we all know you'll read this. To the point: I swear constantly. I don't think I was even swearing at you. I think the only occurrences of that evil, evil F word were to illustrate the severity of quantity. To further this point, even though you quit, because I guess you had no interest in a thread and decided to post anyway (why bother?): When you say "rare", you're quantifying. You don't have a quantity. Quantities are measured in numbers.

Interesting bit about this: Miqo'te are observably more human than they are animalistic. Chop the ears and tail off, and you just have a shorter race of people who have a fringe-sect (and it would have to be a fringe, with the way Eorzean society is set up) that insists on keeping to some tribal customs to varying degrees. Why there is any insistence to the contrary is beyond me.

Yeah, a thin veneer of inherently flawed conjecture doesn't really save the discussion built around it. I mean, I've said this before in this thread, but your conclusion outright ignores a ton of variables that are kind of inconvenient to professing just how swell inbreeding is (nevermind that species that exclusively inbreed don't make it past that 20-generation gateway on their own, let's just assume they do), like...I don't know, the myriad of health problems in pedigree dogs. They even have us looking out for the health of their genetic stock, and pugs still can't breathe too well. Anyway, the point of this particular post is definitely to say "Odd", but sincerely, it's nothing that doesn't happen any time a roleplaying community mentions sex. Frankly, your average internet-person's reaction to sex is worth it's own study. Sex gets spoken of in the same reverent, mystical, obsessive terms as it did when we were all 14, had no idea what it was, and were still convinced that it was the absolute, end-all, be-all to everything ever. I mean, at least back then, we had the excuse of being underdeveloped (physically, psychologically, emotionally), and generally pretty fucking stupid. Now, I don't know. I don't know how we justify this. Ok, you like to wear the science-hat, so I'm gonna speak to you like a scientist. There's overlap in that data, so these aren't all unique occurrences, and that's a really, really small sampling of the group you're addressing. This doesn't allow you to reach any kind of conclusion, and is pretty much entirely irrelevant. Yeah, but you give them a super easy route to take, and they're gonna take it. The "Nunh" position is the easiest fucking route. You type a title in the last name field, and bam. Now you're roleplaying! IT'S NOT CREEPY YOU GUYS, IT'S JUST MY CHARACTER! And then you fed them an entire thread worth of (again, heavily flawed) conjecture that tells them that inbreeding is super great. It isn't, not in the long term, not in the short term, it's just not as catastrophic as five-eyed babies coming from your second cousin. It's not a "rare" few. Her sample size is absolutely fucking tiny, and doesn't account for overlap. We have no concrete data on just how many people find this particular notion favorable or unfavorable. We don't even have a reliable way to gauge it. Don't start talking about numbers if you don't have the numbers.

Fucking...throwing my hat in the Viera circle. Here's why. Prepare yourselves, because I am about to blow minds (no, I'm not.) I would argue that comparing the Miqo'te to the Viera is crazy-sauce. If you take a Miqo'te out of a tribe (by force, or with them just up and splitting), and they don't lose anything that a normal, run-of-the-mill human being wouldn't. Like, seriously nothing. Everything they'd lose would be social, and it's not like humans don't live in tribes. The Viera, on the other hand, are part of an entirely alien existence. A human being could never, ever, ever possibly know what it is to be a Viera. Ever. They're (magically, psychically, whatever the fuck) bound to the woods, and the living things within them. They're hyper-sensitive to the ebb and flow of the "Mist" (basically, magical energy) in the world. When you take a Viera from the wood (or she leaves just because), that all starts to dull. They quite literally drop a piece of their existence (not their social existence, but their very being) when they venture into the rest of the world, and stay there. They suffer a kind of slow greying of the soul that you might expect, only this one is physically measurable. Miqo'te ain't got shit on that. I would argue, in fact, that the Viera are more similar to the Padjal in their ties to the world itself. I would also state that the Viera are something that society will never truly subsume, and wouldn't be able to crush. The Miqo'te, however, are pretty much doomed by progress to be assimilated into a greater global culture where their tribalism will just kind of be forgotten, and they'll be just...seriously nothing but people with oddly placed cat ears, and a tail that serves no real purpose anymore. Summary: Viera are actually interesting, alien creatures, Miqo'te are just an option in a character creator with tired "Tribal" pastiche tossed (in my opinion) carelessly into a world where they'd have a terrible time existing.

Happy to provide clarification as someone who doesn't give two shits about the server divide. There's a system in place to prevent the level gap from becoming a huge issue. The Level Sync system is automatically in place, and enforced in any group content that involves it's own instance. For the FATE system (the events out in the world), there's a cutoff point. Above a certain level range (I believe it's 12 above the event), the character in question can not contribute to the progress of the event, and will therefore get no reward. They must sync down to the event's level in order to actually effect anything (and don't worry about critter availability. They spawn like mad during FATEs). As for the economy, everyone who was around for 1.0 has been made poorer. They went ahead and lopped off a zero from the end of our money totals, and gil is not in short supply with regular questing on a new character. That in mind, this observation also assumes there will be no new people on Balmung. There will. They outnumber the old folks, at this point. This assumes too much without hard data. There'll be a ton of Acranists in general, because it's a new class. And again, with the above statement on group content, you're not going to have to worry about this to any kind of degree. People want their shit done, and they can't just bring their max-level anything into a dungeon and steamroll it, so they're forced to play "right". The other bit this assumption ignores is the part where you can just flop class any time. Server Diversity is a non-issue when it comes to classes in this game. Let's talk about how this isn't gonna work. Like from a lore perspective. The Warriors of Light is a term used to talk about the people present at Carteneau. That's it. They're called that because whenever someone attempts to remember the people who were at the battle, at the moment the fighting was going on, they appear as blotted out silhouettes, as if the sun were behind them. That's not to say that no one remembers these people prior to the actual fighting, and moment of time-skip, just that your average person knows that people went to fight Garlea, and shit went down. We don't know who these people were. Think of them as Unknown Soldiers. With that said, being a time-skipper confers no actual status. Nobody knows who they were, so nobody's gonna celebrate them when they come back. These people aren't gonna be able to claim hero status. If they try to, they were douchebags to begin with. This is also flawed, but again, because of a lack of information, not because you're a jerk (you might be. I'm a jerk. Who knows.) You're assuming that anybody from 1.0 actually knows what the fuck. We don't. I'm one of those people, and I can tell you that this landscape is entirely alien to me, the mechanics are new, there's new equipment, new places, new everything. The world I played in is largely gone. We'll all be venturing into this world for the first time. The only difference is that I have to learn my shit all at once, and you get to do it gradually. With that in mind, there's nothing stopping anyone from getting their own thing going anywhere. Also, you're not establishing a new brand in regards to roleplayers who do end-game shit. They're all over the place. Some of us even do that shit IC. I don't like to pitch (really. Really hate it.) but you and me should talk further, so as not to derail your thread here. So. There's no shortage of opportunity on Balmung. No more so than anywhere else. An established system is not a closed system. Remember that. Now, let's talk about Gilgamesh, in the light of all that I've gone over. We have, essentially, the same climate in both (people tend to forget that Legacy characters were offered transfers. You'll find Legacy folks on Gilgamesh. I guarantee it.) servers. Everyone is starting out new. Everyone. You're going to have a big Arcanist population, simply because it's a new class, and everyone likes new shit. You're going to have some economic issues with the old-guard transferring over, and the common troubles with a "new" economic system. The bottom line of all this is: You and yours should go wherever you see the most appealing roleplaying organizations. Skim our list of 'shells and Free Companies, find some that you dig, and talk to people. Ultimately, the choice of server counts for precisely jack shit, as you're gonna get about the same experience on both. They both host a healthy population (and a healthy population of roleplayers. Mr. Sandbourne has gone to some great lengths to foster and advocate for the Gilgamesh folks), they're both going to have growing pains, and they're both going to have their share of asshats and cockmoppets that will try to ruin your fun. It's the internet. It's all the same shade of terrible/awesome.

Did someone say less than legal!?!?! Not that you gotta join, but you should talk to the members of Misericorde. Isaac in particular. Grew up poor in Ul'Dah. Not a member of the local gangs, but well aware of territories, signs, etc. You kind of have to be, if you don't want to be gutted.