allgivenover

I'll bite, why not? Joining now.

Back on topic. My only dislike so far of the Auri lore is that it doesn't make a lot of sense so far. The Raen get a pass for being so solitary and reclusive I guess, it's the Xaera that bothers me. You're telling me a warlike nomadic sub-race never made it down to Eorzea? In countless generations? Even with the stigma of appearing draconic, by now there would be some of them in Eorzea, a land known for its many immigrant people and cultures. And there are zero of them in Eorzea. It doesn't make any sense.

... The power is dangerous and its mishandling can result in bad things happen to the user, yes. That does not make its users evil. Evil use is done by people who are themselves evil. What I'm saying is Darkness is guns. Spoilers for FFIV: Although it doesn't state so directly I've always thought they meant that the power of the Dark Sword in IV is corrupting, as it feeds from and magnifies the user's own hatred (Tellah makes a comment to this effect). The King of Baron commanded Cecil to take up the art when he was a boy, and it was stated that most who try to become Dark Knights can't handle the intense training and lose their minds. Early in the story Cecil tells Rosa "I've worn this dark armor so long there's no light left in me, not even my heart". (obviously this varies from translation to translation, and a lot of these little details were removed from the western SNES version entirely) Atop Mt. Ordeals it's stated that he can't become a Paladin until he confronts and endures his own hatred (the dark knight), the focus certainly seemed to be that he was unclean because of what he did and the powers he held.

Their power in IV was assuredly evil and corrupting.

I feel you. Fuck those people.

I daresay that's going to be the issue that all Au Ra are going to run into. Oh no, how dare people roll as a new race that was added specifically for us to love and play. Didn't you know? The only good RP is low power, gritty, and Non Miqo'te. Or AuRa. Only wannabe special snowflakes play those. You're double bad if you play a Raen. Thier names being Doman makes you a disgusting weeaboo too. Edit: Just to be absolutely clear, this is sarcasm.

I recall us dealing with exactly that as Miqo'te. You'll be fine. Hahaha. I never had to deal with that so I underestimated how commonplace it was I guess. Perhaps it's my turn now! Yes yes, we all know only terrible Gary Stu RPers play Miqo'te.

I recall us dealing with exactly that as Miqo'te. You'll be fine.

You are assuming they will have to be ignored, we don't actually know that yet.

The AuRa'Raen are close to the Domans, consider that the Domans just got thier country destroyed by the Garleans, and that the Raen are dealing with them now. I'm going to guess that's a good reason to come out. Xaera are nomads. That's all you really need.

FFFUUUU Edit: I'm kidding, it fits one my better ideas so far. Woo.

RPing in a way that's considerate towards others, or as I like to call it "paying it forward". Good points by others so far, here's something about what not to do. Don't do stuff like this: Injuring your character constantly so that your character's situation is always more dire than other character's situations. Only being interested in RP if it's "about" your character. Ignoring other's hooks or developments, or having your character go out of their way to diminish their importance, or worse, hijacking them. Having your character develop abilities that quickly and obviously overshadow long honed and RP'd abilities of other characters. ("You're a conjurer? Wow so am I suddenly! Except I don't just use small bits of stone, I lift house sized boulders out of the ground and conjure waterfalls from the air! And I just learned how to do this yesterday! We're total conjurer peers now XD") Sudden retcons that impact others severely because it's inconvenient to keep your history. ("Fascists who believe in thought-crime think my character is too young and made me feel bad =(. I know I'll just age them five years without warning.") Canonizing fetish in larger RP circles and hiding it until ties are too deep to back off with ease. ("No one's gonna tell me my futa-baby is wrong! Doesn't matter that I hid it until I was good and involved with others.") Some of these may have been the catalyst for my fall out with certain unnamed groups.

Where would a talented non-combat conjurer working as a Hearer of no real importance fit?

Rakka’li could’ve guessed that Akkhi was wealthy from the finery that she and Rhun wore on their outing to Hawker’s alley, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the house she owned in the Mist. Owned. It was easily twice the size of the house he’d lived in briefly in the Lavender Beds, and it wasn’t sparse like that one, or crowded with the Shroudwolf clan he was kind enough to put up for a time. Every comfort Rakka’li ever speculated about owning was readily available, and many more he hadn’t. Presently he sat in Akkhi’s office. The voices of Ruhn and her two younger sisters Tahn and Mahla a distant thing as they took to their lessons. They had a tutor, and each could read and do arithmetic. To say that Akkhi had prospered was an understatement. “So you’re a Hearer?” She asked, seated across from him. They were close, a low table for refreshments between them. He’d shed his robe and left his stave in the foyer, revealing his tatty traveling clothes and worn boots. She had not seemed to notice. “Aye, fought it fer a time. Always blamed the Wood fer mother’s death,” he sat back, trying to relax in the plush chair. “What changed yer mind?” She’d leaned forward, chin on the back of her fingers, elbow on the arm of the chair. He shrugged, “Wood’s home.” “Hm,” it was a measured noise, something like a careful disagreement. “Ye don’t think so?” “Wood’s fine,” she leaned forward to procure a strip of jerky before settling back and tearing it easily with her fangs, “... just ain’t so nice a place to live after... “ she trailed off. “All this?” He supplied, looking around pointedly. “Was goin’ to say the fall, but aye, all this too,” she nodded, “but yer a Hearer, so it’s different for ye.” “S’ true,” he leaned forward to grab up his own piece of jerky, “think I’d go mad if I fought it.” They sat in silence a moment, chewing, the sounds of laughter from the girls a distant thing, warming. “Where’s Rakka’sae?” She asked. His ears tilted back slightly, but they were normal again by the time he’d swallowed the last of the jerky and spoke, “He’s with a Hyur girl, got a child together, can’t say I approve o’ mixin’ blood like that, but the two o’ em are happy, n’ he’d bloody me good if I spoke against it.” If she seemed put off at the knowledge that she had a half-breed niece nothing on her face or from her ears gave it away, “You see him much?” Rakka’li shook his head, “No, he’s been all about his girl for a while now.” “And what about you? Got kittens of your own?” Her younger brother’s expression darkened slightly, pained, but he smiled, “Aye, a few. Here and there.” Akkhi studied his face for a long time in silence, until Rakka’li was reminded of how things had been when he was a child. Akkhi looked too much like their mother he decided. Again he couldn’t help but look away. “What was that look fer?” She dug finally, leaning forward, but Rakka’li offered only silence. She scowled, and opened her mouth to press further, but Rhun came running in, tail swishing, stopping at Rakka’li’s chair and pressing herself up on her tiptoes with the arm-rest. She grinned wide, unabashed adoration directed Rakka’li’s way. Akkhi rolled her eyes. Rhun had just begun to notice boys, and Rakka’li’s rescue act had obviously given her a terrible case of kitten-love. His being her uncle hardly seemed to matter, and in truth among some of the clans it would not have. “Do you like sachertorte?” Rhun piped, giddy. “Ah.. can’t say I’ve tried it… ‘er even heard of it ‘afore. Sacher-what?” Rakka’li asked sheepishly, he spared a glance and a smirk Akkhi’s way that made her want to laugh aloud. He’d picked up on the kitten-love, of course. Rhun’s tail stilled and her mouth hung open in shock, “What do you mean? How could you have never had sachertorte!?” Rakka’li shrugged, “Just ain’t, sounds expensive.” “Are you poor?” Rhun frowned. It was an extremely rude thing to ask, but Rhun had always been brash. It was the wild in her blood, Akkhi thought. Rakka’li laughed as Akkhi bristled and snapped, “Rhun!” To her credit the girl did wilt in embarrassment, her shoulders slumped and ears lowered. She cast her gaze downward before lifting her chin again and squeaking, “Sorry.” He mussed her fluffy, chin-length hair into a mess in response, and just like that all was well again, “S’alright.” Akkhi leaned across the table to swat at Rhun lightly, “Get back to yer lessons!” “May we buy sachertorte for Rakka’li?” She asked hopefully, ears tilted in apprehension as she leaned towards her mother, though she still hung onto the armrest. “Aye, just get back to yer lessons.” Lessons seemed like the last thing on Rhun’s mind, but she’d obviously learned that sort of tone meant Akkhi really meant it. She was gone the next heartbeat. The moment had been so reminiscent of their mother Rakka Kuhn that Rakka’li had to look away and gather himself again before speaking. “It’ll pass,” he offered helpfully. “Or it won’t, and she’ll be makin’ moon-eyes at you till yer sick to death of it,” Akkhi chided, smirking. He did look a little uncomfortable at that prospect, so Akkhi decided to be kind and change the subject. Her gaze slid pointedly to his clothes. “Hearin’ not pay well?” “S’ a callin, not a job,” he replied, as if he’d explained it a thousand times. Akkhi leaned back again, looking towards her desk and favoring her lip with one fang, as if considering something, though secretly she’d had the idea bells ago. “How ‘bout ye work fer me?”

I just think consistency is important within your own circle. The community is too big and varied to possibly reach a consensus on this. If you let something slide once and then restrict it elsewhere within the same group it's going to break immersion for pretty much anyone.

Gawd that killed any desire to follow WoW's plot for me. Also, there must always be a Lich King.

The ONLY fantastical thing? They're shown going from 0 to 60 from a standing position without a crouch into the air, crashing into something many times their own size without the impact killing them outright, balancing on one foot on a spire that could not possibly have been climbed up or even landed on without impaling yourself, halting their super-fast momentum and twisting into a fall (the twist they also halt into a perfect downward stab), and flipping through the air like it was walking and you think there's ONE fantastical thing about them? EVERYTHING about what they're doing is fantastical! EDIT: Oh, you mean fantastical in that exact moment, my mistake.

We're talking about the same 1.0 that has Yda literally punching bullets out of the air, right? I did type "much more low fantasy than the direction it's taken since a Realm Reborn", not "had no fantastical elements whatsoever."

I didn't catch it at first myself either, but yes the Dragoons assuredly are breaking the laws of physics and rocketing both from the ground and after changing direction in the air, then impacting into giant dragons many times their own mass without being killed by the force immediately. There's no reasonable explanation for it other than aether allows people to break the laws of physics whether it's through the armor itself or the ability of the Dragoons, it's definitely what's happening. Animu physics are canon.

This is because the original version of the game was much more "low fantasy" than the direction it's taken since A Realm Reborn. A lot of 1.0 players like myself had that lingering impression and I was well into 2.0 before I realized that there'd been a dramatic shift. At this point it's apparent that aether gives skilled people superpowers. 2.55 cut-scenes and the Dragoons in the Heavensward trailer confirm it. It's actually going against the lore to argue that characters can't accomplish superhuman feats with the right skill, training, and experience. EDIT: This doesn't mean "low fantasy, low power RP" is wrong. There's plenty of low-powered people in the setting and characters portrayed by Rpers, myself being one of them. It's just wrong to insist that no one should be able to do these things.

Limsa Lominsa was just too damn bright. Rakka'li scowled at the glare from the safety of Hawker's Alley. The market stretch wasn't terribly busy this afternoon, so it was easy to linger in the shade and find reprieve from the glare of the sun on the waves and the too white stone that was everywhere. It made stepping out into the bright again all the more intolerable. Squinting and drawing his hood up, Rakka'li stepped into the blinding bright... and nearly jumped out of his skin as a shrill wail tore through the air behind him. It was a few moments after returning into the comfort of the shade before he could see again, and by that time a small crowd had gathered around the childish wailing. Curious, he drew to the edge, pushing his hood back and brushing the unruly mane he'd grown from his eyes. "...cut 'er hand right good. Lass'll need stiches 'er conjury." A Seawolf merchant finished speaking as he approached. The man straightened and looked out over the crowd, eyes meeting Rakka'li's briefly before asking, "Any of ye lot here a physicker or a conjurer?" His first attempt to be heard was lost in the bustle and the catch of a voice not often used. He cleared his throat and tried again, "M' a conjurer," He called out firmly, lifting his stave for emphasis. The Seawolf spotted him quickly. "Make way fer him!" The man bellowed, lifting his arms, thick with muscle and good eating to gently push a few oblivious onlookers aside. The man got hold of his shoulder and pulled him, his hood fell back as he was came into the tight circle around the source of wailing. It was a Keeper maiden, no more than twelve years old, her hand had been sliced from index finger to wrist, deep. There was a bloody tool on the ground nearby the merchant's counter, an awl or some carpentry tool? Rakka'li was no craftsman and had no honest idea. It hardly mattered. Besides, it was the face of the girl's mother, looking to him hopefully, that pushed any consideration of what the damn tool was straight out of his head. Dark skin and vibrant purple eyes with the same shade of blue as his own, her ears flat with apprehension. It was like looking at his mother again, and for several quickened, tight heartbeats he thought it was his mother. But no, it wasn't her. He'd seen his mother die. It was Akkhi Kuhn, his sister, and the shocked expression on her face let him know the recognition had been mutual. "Rakka'sae? Gods, you're alive!?" She gaped at him. Rakka'li drew back slightly, his first impulse was to laugh, but he fought it down. She thought he was Rakka'sae! Maybe it was the long hair? Regardless, he knelt down. "M' Li," he corrected, taking the young girl's bloody hand firmly by the wrist. She'd quieted to subdued sniffling and regarded him with wide purple eyes. Her little face certainly had the look of his kin to it, though her skin and hair was a shade greyer and a touch bluer respectively. She had that awkward gangly build that girls stuck between childhood and womanhood had, all limbs and no shape, but she would be pretty some day. The cut was deep enough to birth little rivers of crimson that pooled where Rakka'li's fingers wrapped round her wrist tight. He was careful to hold it over the stones so the dripping didn't touch any clothing. Had the tool been left out carelessly for her hand to come down on it hard enough to do this? Or perhaps she'd been playing with something she shouldn't have? "S' not so bad," he lied gently. Truth is it was bad, she must have come down on it hard, but his conjury would set it right. It was what he did after all. He left his stave leaning against the counter and went for the greenwood branch at his belt. The aether here didn't feel the same as the Wood, and he always felt as if it were easier to draw through it when he was away. The girl regarded it curiously, though she still sniffled when he turned her hand and held the focus over the wound. "What's yer name?" He asked, eyes on the wound as he began channelling. The conjury glow lit both their faces, it was the only sort of brightness that didn't cause him to squint. "Rhun," she murmured, eyes on the wound, awed. It occurred to Rakka'li that she had perhaps never seen conjury in action before. It wasn't a rare power, but it also wasn't as if the world were swarming with Conjurer's. "Rhun?" He smiled, eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to his work. The two of them were silent a moment as they watched the blood well up from the wound before it closed entirely. He set the greenwood branch at his side. "S' a good name." Akkhi took her daughter's hand as soon as Rakka'li released it. She wiped the blood away to reveal the smooth, unmarred flesh beneath. Already the crowd was moving on, Limsa Lominsa was no stranger to such powers, and with the danger passed Hawker's alley was back on its way to normal. Rhun was staring at him with undisguised admiration, her mother's scolding ignored until Akkhi tugged on one of her ears. Rakka'li rose and turned, busying himself with fishing about his person for his handkerchief to clean his bloodied hand. A gentle touch on his shoulder pulled his attention back when he was done. "Rakka'li? It really is you," Akkhi said the words in a way that was almost like trying to convince herself. His eyes found Rhun behind her. She stood looking at her healed hand, turning it this way and that before looking up to him and flushing brightly. Rakka'li fixed his gaze back on his sister. Her hair was long and well kept in a style that only city-folk tended to wear, and her clothes were fine, as was Rhun's. She'd gained a few scars on her forehead, cheek, and chin, though they served her well in making her look fierce. Akkhi had raised him as much as the ever-busy Rakka Kuhn had, and her resemblance to their mother unsettled him and made his heart ache. Overcome, he had to look down, his voice was slightly husky as he spoke, "Good te see ye livin'." Akkhi threw her arms around him, and just like that he couldn't stop the tears from coming.

Ahh okay. So if they import...then who do they import from?? I thought that in the MSQ they were very specific about not giving or receiving aid in regards to other city-states or parts of Eorzea. Or did I misunderstand that part? @.@ They were talking about military aid, not trade. Commerce isn't really aid.

Moderator brutality! Moderator brutality! You all saw it! Silliness aside, my reasons for not supporting the idea has nothing to do with the vampire/demon class. The truth is despite there being a push for official support of RPers in the form of an "RP" tag for certain servers or more extreme stuff like this idea, after nearly fifteen years of MMO roleplaying I am not convinced that official tools or mechanics designed to "support" roleplay do anything of the sort, in fact I think even minimal recognition like RP tags for official RP servers is completely unnecessary, does nothing to support roleplay, and in some ways is detrimental. The only idea I've ever liked is the one that SE currently employs in XIV, allowing individual groups to mark themselves as roleplayers, the way we can mark our FCs as "role play" now. We don't need anything more than that.

Looks like the jobs are unlocked in Ishgard. This means you'll need to be level 50 and have all of the ARR plot done to play the new jobs. If you plan for your alts to take up these jobs it's best to get started now.

I'll pray to the Twelve that our goofy stuff remains the way it is and doesn't dip into this territory.