Gone4everbye

Hiya! Welcome! Where'd you come from, MMO-wise? Always gotta make sure if there are people from my old 3-year committment to stalk catch up with. Else it's equally as important to meet new victims friends.

I'll try to catch up on my Relic kills by then. Sentinel's Ark has been more than willing to run it with me, but apparently I jumped on that one pre-emptively and failed them regardless. I feel I'm kind of like a burden to them. >.> Annnd I also feel really stupid. So yah.

I have a picture of straight-up ERP that was mistold in Aion back in the day. I wasn't online for it, but my character's wife was and she snapped the picture. It was two full, descriptive lines of ERP mistold in to the class channel, which is global to everyone who shares the same class as you. We had the good sense to at least edit out the name to protect the poor guy's embarrassing mistake. Warning: Image contains graphic adult text. View at your own risk.

Welcome, welcome, fah who rah-moose. Welcome, welcome, dah who dah-moose~

I'm glad this thread was necrobumped when it was. I have a low level alt that is a Duskwight, and I've been more or less going by what little information I was able to dig up on my own through various Wikis across the net. My Duskwight is pretty unabashedly a copy of the main character I played in Aion, but better appropriated for Eorzea and all of XIV's lore, with a similar backstory. In fact, my other two alts are also copies of former characters, appropriated. I think the only things I've done "wrong" in regard to this character's backstory is that I tossed him out in to a cave beyond Sagolii desert, rather than the shroud or anywhere remotely foresty, and his name doesn't quite follow the naming convention. To justify the name, I imagine it's an intentional misspelling of his actual name. After my Aion main, I named him Isceroth Atrios. I imagine his real name is spelled and pronounced a bit differently: Iscereaut, or Iscerriot, or some such thing. (Actually that's also kind of congruent with the Aion counterpart, because Isceroth's actual name was spelled with ancient letters and was pronounced Ee-seh-roh't instead of his adapted Ih-suh-raw'th.) Never took a lick of French in my life and I only have the barest hint of understanding when it comes to pronunciation because of people's last names, and the names of various cities in my area. Completely open to suggestions for the spelling of his real name from anyone more knowledgable on the subject. Anyway, his story is that he's the sole survivor of the family he used to share his cave with. After the deaths of his loved ones, he turned dangerously hostile toward other people, regardless of their race. He had plenty of visitors too, since his cave is a prime mine for precious crystals and stones. Living on such value, the cave is pretty nicely furnished, and although he loathes the cities for more than one reason, he does have stores of common currency. His land is surrounded by posted warnings not to trespass. If people brave it anyway, they're either thieves or beggars, and it is not beyond Isceroth to kill them if he sees fit. He normally spares beggars more than thieves, and has a small reputation outside of his hermitage as a loan shark. It takes some convincing for him to disburse funds to a stranger (which is literally everyone), but it can be done. The interest is high, the repayment windows are relatively short, and the consequences for missed or late payments can be deadly. He's prominent in this short story. So, if this character sounds interesting to you, and your character ICly needs money, hit me up for RP. I'm normally on my main, Rakka'sae Kuhn, and perpetually on Skype at DimmerMeerkat. Additionally, if those of you who have way more knowledge and experience with playing/creating Duskwight characters have some constructive criticism or helpful direction, I'm open to it.

Ah yes, let's see if I can find it. There were these nuggets of Keeper lore that Rakka'li found. Keepers are so ridiculously rare among NPC populations that it's hard to gather lore on them.

Trading in the desert was careful work. Often times the tides of profit and loss were subject to the whims of unexpected sandstorms. An unnamed trading settlement sat far beyond the Sagolii Desert, several days' travel from the Forgotten Springs. And it was only "several days" provided one could keep their bearings and continue straight ahead over sand dunes and dry wasteland, rather than turning and weaving about as shifting sands often made travelers do. The sandstorms had been worse than usual this season, and the slow trickle of traders that normally favored the settlement with a handful of visits over the last few Moons hadn't been coming in as they used to. Some families and merchants had been prepared for the near total cessation of business, but others had not. The elderly Wildwood's stomach growled, painting a grimace on his grey-bearded face. His wife was just as uncomfortable, but her discomfort manifested as simmering to near-boiling anger. "I think you know very well why this is happening to us," she said, the bitterness in her tone stinging her husband and making him wince. "Stay your tongue," he said, trying to sound commanding, though he was too famished to achieve the authority he'd hoped to. "I do not wish to discuss this." Ignoring his warning, she sniffed and looked out dusty kitchen window of their small, wooden abode. "As though it's not enough we have an extra mouth to feed, the creature eats more than her fair share. Yet she's still scraggly and mangy." The man's hand came down loudly upon the table's surface. "Gods damn you, I said I do not wish to discuss this." He hesitated in spite of himself, not keen to concede to the points she made. He didn't want to start an argument, but he felt the need to defend the young guest they had kept in their home for the last six years. "I would rather she eat more frequently. She is too thin. A growing Miqo'te is more likely to burn away excess faster than two withered old Elezen like ourselves." His wife sniffed again, defiant, but fell silent. As though her silence were an argument in and of itself, the man sighed heavily, wordlessly relenting. "We will eat well again, soon enough," he said quietly. The old Elezen woman turned away from the window, giving her husband a suspicious look. It didn't seem the sandstorms would let up any time soon, and there was nothing left to trade to the neighbors, rendering the man's promise either empty or foolish. He peered at her from the corner of his eye, a grave expression on his face. "I will depart for the Crystal Caves tomorrow morning." Foolish, then. "You'll-" the old woman began, when a smaller but boisterous voice traveling fast down the short, narrow hallway cut her off. "What are the Crystal Caves?" the little one asked, curious as always. The woman whirled to face the small, brown Miqo'te girl, lips thinning angrily. Ignoring his wife's anger, the elderly man bent forward in his chair and opened his long arms to the slip of a child. The child ran to him and threw herself in to them, easily lifted from the ground in to his lap. She was terribly thin, and was about as heavy as a feather. Only ten years old, she was maybe the size of a six year old Miqo'te -- and by far smaller than an Elezen child at the same age. She was the only Miqo'te in the trading post settlement; an orphan the old Wildwood had taken in when she had been intentionally left behind by a caravan when it passed through. "The Crystal Caves," he began, voice a little hoarse from worn use and old age. He cleared his throat and continued. "...are exactly as you would imagine them. A system of caves with glimmering clusters of crystals that stretch on for miles and miles." The little Miqo'te's big, blue eyes widened. Her pupils were dark and round, rather than slitted like a Seeker's, making it easy enough to identify her as a Keeper... if her fangs weren't evidence enough. The older man often wondered how and why a Keeper had come to find herself out as far as this corner of the desert, when they were better accustomed to the forest and the night. He placed a hand on her head as she chirped a question at him. "Are we gonna take all the crystals and be rich?" The man tried to chuckle to distract the child from taking note of the way his face paled. "No, most certainly not. The crystals belong to another." "Why that greedy-" the child began, silenced when the old man's finger touched her lips. "Kaahi," he said gently. "The man to whom the crystals rightfully belong has done nothing to earn insult." Now his wife scoffed, apparently disagreeing with that statement. She turned away when he glanced at her, reaching for her cooking knife to resume chopping browning vegetables that would need to be stewed and eaten soon if they were not to go to waste. "Sorry," Kaahi said, her ears laying flat, emphasizing her already thoroughly chided expression. The old man knew she was partially faking it. As if his gentle smile were a green flag to drop the act, she did just that, sitting up straight and looking hopeful. "Can I come with you?" Not having expected that question, the old Elezen blanched. He looked about, searching for the words to gently tell her that she couldn't. It wasn't a very safe trip with the sandstorms blowing through, and the man who owned and lived in the caves was a danger in and of himself. His eyes found the girl's tail, flicking about anxiously. He flinched when he heard the "clap" of the knife his wife used to chop a carrot, daring a glance in her direction, only to realize she was glaring at Kaahi as she chopped and diced. He put the visuals together and frowned. It had never been a mystery that his wife didn't like having Kaahi around, but she was at least courteous enough not to say anything to the girl when he was around. He knew that she hated the child enough to be truly malicious -- a point of contention that had truly strained their marriage and their friendship. He also knew that when he wasn't around, she was an absolute witch to the little girl. The old man had tried to warm his wife to the child, but she only hated her a little more for it, so he stopped trying. He would not divorce her, however. It simply wasn't his way. Instead, he was sure to always be present when Kaahi was near his wife, lest the woman bruise her cheek again. And then it dawned on him that if he did not take the child, he would leave her here with his already irregularly aggravated, knife-wielding wife. He swallowed, tearing his eyes away from her kitchen utensil. "If you are to come with me, you must retire early this evening after preparing your canteens and cloak." Delighted, Kaahi hugged her adoptive Elezen father, practically purring. He chuckled weakly, then set her on her feet. "Go on, then. There is much to do." With a diligent nod, the little kitten scrambled off to her room--which had once been a simple den--spilling over her belongings and noisily gathering up what she thought she needed. The man's wife rolled her eyes at him, but she smirked in an off-putting, cruel sort of way, making him feel as though he'd just made a terrible mistake allowing Kaahi to come with him. He just wasn't sure who was more dangerous: his wife scorned, or the hermit of the Crystal Caves. He prayed he was correct in assuming the hermit was the safer bet. ----- Noises outside. More than the gusting sands. The voices of men. Gruff. Loud. Boisterous. Idiotic. The clank of pickaxes. Isceroth pushed himself off of his favorite recline; a simple smooth boulder with a natural dip. His wife had spent more than enough time seated on the boulder that the still young hermit believed her lingering essence was strongest there, and a most comforting companion when his bedfellow was none other than solitude. His skin was dark and neutral toned, contrasting with his longish, unruly silver-white hair. He was formidably tall, even for a Duskwight. His composure was rigid and disciplined, and his face seemed to forever don a stoic, emotionless expression. Taking easy, soundless strides towards the noisy exit from his expansive cave, he continued to take in the sounds of the voices. His hearing was stellar. It was sharp enough that he could count the men before they were in sight, and positively identify them all. Three Hyur men--two of them Midlanders, and one a Highlander. One Roegadyn with them as well -- younger and under-fed. All four of them, in fact, were scruffy looking knaves. Beggars turned thieves and scavengers. He might have pitied them. Perhaps in another life. One in which he was a charitable gentleman. But he was not. He was the hermit of the Crystal Caves, wealthy by right of his father's land, and wildly unapologetic by way of his blood. He was bitter by way of the death of his loved ones, and deadly by way of his bladed bow. And these men were trespassing. There wasn't a soul in the entire expanse of the desert who was fool enough to believe the cave was uninhabited, and the sandstorm wasn't enough to mask the very clear warning signs posted along the ridges and dunes. For the literate, there were signs that read "Trespassers Will Be Shot." For the illiterate, there were arrows, skulls, and crossbones. The weapon slipped easily from his shoulder, curved scimitar-like blades coming together at a shared hilt in the center of the bow. He took aim first at the Roegadyn, deeming him the most immediate threat, despite his emaciated build. He loosed his arrow almost as quickly as he had knocked it, and it sank in to the Roegadyn's neck, causing the giant to fall to his knees, dropping his pickaxe. The Hyur men all whirled about to face their attacker, only just beginning their charge when Isceroth loosed another arrow in to the eye of one of the Midlanders. The other two were drawing closer at break-neck speeds, their own axes and swords drawn. Two arms' lengths from appropriate attacking distance, the Duskwight hermit buried another arrow deep in to the skull of the Highlander, but had run out of time to prepare a fourth shot for the remaining attacker. Leaping in to the air, the Midlander came down on Isceroth with a force that could have shaken stone, yet his sword never followed through. The Hyur had barely seen the Duskwight move, and his skin was burning with an odd, itching sensation. Then, all he saw was red as blood poured from a split across his hairline. It was deep. Too deep to bleed so much, unless the skull had been- He fell face-first in to the sand. Looking inappropriately bored, Isceroth turned his bow, flicked it quickly to shake the bulk of the gore from it, and buried the top blade in to the sand to purge the steel of the thief's blood. He glanced at the four bodies, then off towards the horizon, wondering if the vultures would brave the storm to claim their prizes. Isceroth paused then, noting a darker form moving slowly in his direction, teetering weakly from being whipped from all directions by the ruthless gusts of wind and sand. He waited a solid ten minutes before the shape was clear of the storm and close enough to take note of his presence. The hermit looked the elderly Wildwood over, expressionless. In the stranger's arms, there was a crumpled hempen bundle, with a richer brown strip of fur poking out of it through a hole and wrapping around the elderly man's wrist. It was a tail. Though he seemed nervous, the old man came to stand before Isceroth, just out of slashable reach. He bowed his head reverently and wheezed. "I beg audience with the one who owns this place." The hermit slowly looked to the dead bodies, which had already been partially buried by the shifting sands. Either the old man hadn't seen them, or had chosen to ignore them. "Are you the one responsible for these trespassers?" Isceroth asked, looking pointedly at the closest carcass. Apparently the Wildwood had noticed the bodies. He tried hard not to look at the one Isceroth stared at, holding his bundle more tightly. "No sir. There are only Wildwoods where I am from, save for one." After a long, distrustful glance, Isceroth turned his back on the man and moved in to the cave without a word, away from the stinging sands. Unsure what to do, the Wildwood stood where he was, shifting uneasily and watching the hermit depart. Unexpectedly, the hermit stopped and turned, speaking blandly and soft enough that had the elderly man not been an Elezen himself, he might not have heard him. "You may enter." The old man did just that, taking small, nervous steps in to the cave. Out of the storm. In to the Crystal Caves. Kaahi stirred in his arms, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes, irritated by the storm. She wriggled defiantly until he set her on her own two feet, and he held her hand until her legs found their strength again. The brown cloak she wore made her look more gawky than she already was, as it was far too large for her. She blinked her eyes clear and began to look about in wonder. The cave was dark, but the crystals glinted with a light that gently illuminated the path they walked. Far away, there was an orange flicker that danced against the stoney walls, no doubt cast by fire. The child's gaze then found Isceroth and stared at him, curious. Feeling her gaze, he stopped and looked to her. She tilted her head, interested, noting his foggy red eyes and wondering if he could see well or not. Noticing their mutual lingering gaze, the old Wildwood spoke up. "She is my daughter." Isceroth was silent a long moment. "Your daughter does not resemble you." "She is not mine by blood, but by oath," the old man explained calmly, trying not to sound condescending. Of course the child didn't resemble him. They were of two very different races. "I see," Isceroth said blandly. Asking nothing more, he continued toward the orange light, turning and disappearing in to the apparently man-made entrance from whence it shone. When at last they arrived, the hermit made no motion for the pair to make themselves comfortable, despite the availability of rug-covered ground-space, and cushions and pillows aplenty. Instead, he turned to face them again, standing tall and rigid. His expression was hard to read -- a mix between disapproving and sleepy. He simply waited. After hesitating again, the old man spoke. "I have come to beg a loan." "No," Isceroth answered immediately. "I do not lend." The old man had trouble finding his voice. "Sir, I have traveled far, and would do so again to repay you with the spoils of the next trading season." "The desert is fickle. You've no guarantee there will be any spoils to be had. I do not lend." Looking helpless and frustrated, the man fought for words. "I carry with me the deed to my home. I will use the lien as collateral." "I've no use for your hovel," Isceroth replied coldly. "Sir," the old man pleaded. "Our food has run short, and we are likely to run out before the traders return to us." The hermit replied with a sharp edge to his bland words. "You should have been better prepared." The old man bowed his head. "You are correct, sir. I am at fault, and I shan't be so careless again. But my entire family faces starvation for my negligence. It is the first I have made such an error. I fear my age is to blame... I am quite old." "Indeed you are," the hermit replied. "Another reason I will not lend to you. You may die before your recompense." The young Miqo'te's ears stood up straight at the thought of her father dying. "P-Papa can't die!" "Kaahi, hush," the Wildwood elder urged. She defiantly broke away from him and marched towards the hermit, who was effectively thrice her height. "You take that back!" she demanded, jabbing her finger in to his leg. Something snapped the moment she touched him. Steel glinted in the light, and before she had time to realize what was happening, the little girl was on the ground, blood spilling from a slash that spanned from her left brow to the right side of her nose. It wasn't deep enough to mar bone, but it was painful, and would most certainly scar. Her adoptive father was beside her immediately, helping her to sit up and checking her for fatal damage, panic apparent in the entirety of his composure. When they both realized she was going to be fine, Kaahi pressed a hand over her bloody face and wept quietly. It hurt. "Do not. Ever. Touch me," the hermit said warningly, although his voice sounded bored and toneless. In fact, everything he had said since the Wildwood and his daughter arrived had been devoid of tone. Gently shushing his dismayed little girl, the older Elezen took a moment to gather his courage. He needed to convince the hermit to lend to him, but he had to be careful not to offend him at the same time. The hermit didn't seem riled, but apparently he only needed a flash of irritation to set him off in to a violent strike. "You... have lent before, sir?" Isceroth replied flatly. "I have." There was a long, uncomfortable silence. The older man took the time to dab Kaahi's face with his sleeve. "Consider lending again, please. I will do anything you bid if you grant me only five thousand gil." Another stretching silence. Isceroth eyed the young girl. "You will sell the child to me for ten thousand gil," he said. Sudden, hot anger flashed in the Wildwood's eyes. He glared daggers at the younger man that was towering above him and his daughter. "Out of the question." Isceroth considered this. "The price is unfair? Then I will offer you one hundred thousand for ownership of the girl," he offered easily. Kaahi's father didn't stop to consider the more impressive offer. He replied immediately. "I said no!" the old man barked, shaking from the intensity of the sudden wave of anger that washed over him. "She is not for sale." Isceroth stared dully at him, then looked to the still distressed Kaahi. He neither frowned nor smiled. Nothing seemed to change. "Very well," he began. "Then I will lend you five thousand gil, and you will repay me at the turn of the season with ten percent interest applied. If you do not pay the full amount, the interest shall be applied to the remainder of the amount owed for each Moon on the first Sun. Do you understand these terms?" The old man's head spun, lingering anger mingling with sudden relief and surprise. "Was that..." he gasped. "Was that a test, sir? Your attempt to coerce me to sell my own daughter?" Isceroth did not deign to answer the question. He simply repeated, "Do you understand the terms of your loan?" The old man recollected himself and decided not to push his luck. "Yes sir." "If you fail to pay me any amount by the turn of the season, I will kill you," Isceroth added, just as easily, causing the Wildwood to swallow hard, nodding meekly. Isceroth nodded in turn and left the two where they sat, vanishing in to a part of the maze-like cavern that was well out of sight. Kaahi finally forced open her eyes, still shaken by the attack, her wound still bleeding. "I'm scared, papa." "We will depart soon, my darling." He pressed his sleeve gently against the wound once more. "I am sorry." "It's okay," Kaahi said weakly, smiling up at him. "You'll protect me?" "Of course I will." ----- Isceroth's hermitage was truly fine. Few outsiders had ever come in this far, and it would stay that way for as long as it could be helped. He did not like outsiders. He did not like people. But every now and then, little occurrences would assure the young hermit that outsiders were not all uniformly shallow, greedy ingrates. The offer to buy the child had indeed been a test, and the old man passed it. Any other common beggar or thief might have easily sold a child that was clearly not their own creation for a fist full of coins. The old man did not. He lifted the lid to one of his coffers slowly, eyes unfocused and thinking. The love of a parent for their child was something that resonated with him. A secret he would not share. His son had been so young and frail when he died, and since that day, he had been broken. He desperately wanted to cast the memories and the pain aside, but it was not so simple. The wounds were fresh. Four years fresh. He blinked hard to clear his mind, peering down in to the coffer. He counted the appropriate amount of coins in to a single velvet pouch, and drew it shut.

Sorry this is a little necrobumpy, but my campaign only has twelve days remaining and I'm about 11.3k short. I don't expect that I'll hit my goal, but I'm still looking for contributions to put away and save towards my top surgery in the end. As such I've posted an update with some promises:

Before I dive in to this, I'd like to open with a disclaimer! I'm posting this for a good, healthy discussion to take place. Disagreements may occur. If they do, and you happen to be involved in the disagreement, please keep a level head and keep your tone respectful. I'm not really certain how contentious this topic might be, but I don't want it spiraling out of control in the event that there are differences of opinion. Let's talk about the "Main Storyline," and how we regard it in RP. This RP community comes from all corners of the MMO and/or RP universe. Some of our members are even new to both. With such diversity comes a colorful variety of playstyles. Specifically, I'm talking about RP styles. Most of my RP experience in MMOs comes from Aion, so forgive me if I over-use it as an example. Aion, like most MMOs, had a "Main Storyline." FFXIV:ARR does as well! In both, the player is put in a position of considerable growing importance, which puts them in a position to interact with all of the unique NPCs and allows them to see all the world, encountering (and often remedying) most of its problems. I've never played other MMOs extensively, so I can't really say for sure whether games like WoW, GW2, SWTOR, Eve, NWN, and others had such a thing as a single-player storyline. When MMOs give us these pre-packaged stories, some roleplayers opt to still regard the stories as though they're happening to them. Most, in my experience, extract the lore they learn from it and mostly disregard it, giving their characters a more natural role in the world presented to us. In Aion, I came across the occasional RPer who wanted to regard elements of the main story as happening to their character in real time. This, of course, caused some conflict. For instance, the Shadow Court (a ruling power for Asmodians in Aion) would capture the player and force them to fight their way out of a dungeon in order to assess their skill. While it wasn't magnanimous, the more people who claimed the Shadow Court was after them in the same fashion as dozens of RPers before them, the more we had to wonder what exactly made everyone so very special that they were the target of such attention. This was a minor thing, but more confusion erupted when players were taking credit for killing a being who would not and could never return--when it was the "hero" of the story who did so. Similarly, in FFXIV:ARR, I have heard some rumors about players claiming to fight and kill Primals, as the "hero" of the overarching storyline does. I'm not well-versed in the XIV lore, but even in the event that primals can return to power after a good slaying or two, the story does establish that these rises to power for the primals happen over an extended period of time, and the manner in which you encounter them is lauded as being alarmingly different or rare. It is my opinion, that players shouldn't encounter Primals, or at least shouldn't encounter them as casually as they might enter in to a fight in a video game. I'd even go as far as to say that it should be rare to be accepted to the Scions. Even the "hero" of the Main Storyline is told to keep their affiliation somewhat confidential. At least, they're told to never, ever talk about the location of the Waking Sands and to try to be discreet about their membership (though obviously some NPCs are well aware of your affiliation and often tap in to your resource.) I also think that instances should be treated worth a grain of salt. For instance, Toto-Rak is "off limits" to outsiders, so if you were there, you'd better justify it ICly, and probably not using the same excuse the story gave you. You're not there to rescue the Elder Sylph. You're... maybe there to execute an experiment with the approval of whatever Grand Company you've enlisted with. Anyway, enough about my opinion. What do you guys think? How should RPers regard the Main Storyline? How should RPers regard other RPers who are clearly considering every point in the Main Storyline actual events that have happened to their character? (Personally, in other games, I have always simply taken to silently dismissing them as crazy, but respectfully humoring them to their face.)

I just tried mashing my numkey 0 for 30 minutes straight. No dice.

Howdy, welcome. Love the screen name. >.> 'Cause Aznable. And who doesn't love them some Char Aznable, huh?

What I think they should do is boot everyone, shut down all the servers, freeze that "free time" that's ticking away for everyone, and redub the "launch" for whenever the servers are fixed. Instead they're letting it go on and on while thousands of people can't get in--especially those of us who aren't at home during low traffic hours. The thing that makes it frustrating is knowing that other people are getting the opportunity that you aren't. If it was shut down for everyone, it'd be annoying, sure, but it wouldn't be infuriating, and there would be no constant desperation to get in to play with friends and play catch up like there is now.

The only way I've ever gotten in has been to log in at 4:00 AM. I work from 6 - 2:30 AM. I cannot get on after a point. If you have a daytime job or go to school, you absolutely cannot login, ever.

Thanks so much for all of the support, everyone. From monetary donations, to your kind words, to getting the word out there, every little bit has been helping. I am still a ways away from my goal, but if the fundraiser should end without reaching it, I intend to put the money away in a separate credit union where I'll leave the funds until it's time for surgery, and potentially open a second fundraiser later on down the line. I'd be happy to share my whole experience with everyone down the line if there's any interest. I was fortunate to have finally found my HD camcorder after almost a year of searching. I won it from NCsoft for winning first place in their second official video contest--and I won first place in their first one too! When it's surgery time, I'd like to record a little bit of a before and after. I'll probably open up another YouTube account to do this on since my main account, DimmerMeerkat, is almost exclusively dedicated to the MMOs I play. (Expect FFXIV content soooon.) Anyway, just wanted to say thanks! So... thanks!

...You're my new best friend, kay? I cosplayed as Ares once. It was well before I could ever grow facial hair so I liberally drew on a beard. Anywho, I'm part of the "Xenaversity of Minnesota" and one of the web groups petitioning for a Xena movie. So, ya know. Represent! o/ The Xenaversity of Minnesota's run by a gay man. :3 The internet is a tiny place! I've bid on the Xenaversity auction and won some pictures! And I remember James from the 2012 convention... I believe he cosplayed as Poseidon! I'm one of the mods on the Facebook movie campaign (I know you're on it, but I am linking it for those reading this thread because I am always plugging the page). Anyhow, yay Xena! Would be cool to see pics of your Ares cosplay if you are comfortable sharing. I'd like to cosplay Ares or Iolaus one of these days! Good lord, it is a small world. I love James. And his son, Cory. Haha, my Ares cosplay kind of really sucks, but yeah, I can dig up some photos. I think I've got them hidden away in one of several Photobucket accounts. Anyway, which convention are you talking about? One of the Xenacons that I seem to never hear about, or CONvergence where the Xenaversity sets up a room party every year? :3

Plenty of transgender ladies here. I know of at least one other transman in the RP community too. I think of roleplay sort of like performing arts avenues, which generally attract some GLBTQIA people. My hypothesis is that it has to do with expression and acceptance. RP communities, like theatre companies, generally tend to be more progressive than the general public.

...You're my new best friend, kay? I cosplayed as Ares once. It was well before I could ever grow facial hair so I liberally drew on a beard. Anywho, I'm part of the "Xenaversity of Minnesota" and one of the web groups petitioning for a Xena movie. So, ya know. Represent! o/ The Xenaversity of Minnesota's run by a gay man. :3 Sounds good! And glad you like the Asmo-Santa. :3 I did a video a long time ago about Solorius, too. Santa was a no-show because he was busy defending the Asmodian people from the evil Elyos and Balaur, so his present to Asmodae was LIFE. /deeeep

Bahaha. Cute.

Many thanks, Zyru. I remember learning that you were trans back in the day in this thread. :3 Sorry to hear about your situation. Hopefully it gets better soon.

That was fast! Glad some of the feedback I threw at you was discussed there.

Is interracial marriage allowed?

Ugh, and more vulnerable to violence, too. I wish the mainstream gay rights movement prioritized transgender issues. We have gay marriage in my state, which is all well and good, but getting married doesn't really solve poverty, unemployment, legal discrimination, homelessness etc. experienced disproportionately by transgender people (and queer people in general). Not to mention the high rate of suicide attempts. Around 41%. I am happy that gay rights are moving forward, but it sucks to sometimes find that cisgendered people for gay rights, including some gay and lesbian people themselves, can be a little hostile towards transgendered people for one reason or another. Gay marriage just kicked in in my state 9 days ago.

You should check out the Jim Collins foundation. http://jimcollinsfoundation.org/ They award surgery grants to transpeople. I heard about them literally 3 days after the cutoff for this year's application period. They do it every year, so keep your eye on them. I have terrible credit or I'd take out a loan for this stuff. Til then, just gotta keep trying to fund! If you have someone who supports you strongly, or you yourself have some talent for marketing, you should still try doing a fundraiser. The one thing you can't do, though, is just open the fundraiser and meander off. I've had this open for three days and I've been hitting up every social avenue and connection I can think to hit up. All but one of my funders thus far have been people I've known for a few years. Not a lot of stranger traffic coming in yet.

Why are they terminally unemployable? I'm sorry I have very little exposure to these things. A lot of trans people have a really hard time finding employment. Only 17 states legally protect gender identity from workplace/hiring discrimination. Even in the states that do protect you, there's a hiring bias that some employers aren't hesitant to exercise and blame on other factors. It's impossible to prove they were discriminating based on gender identity in most cases, it seems. If you're mid-transition, it can be really awkward. For instance, I am looking for a different job now and am running in to the legal snag. I am still legally female (in my state, you have to have some surgery to change your identification, with few exceptions), but I outwardly appear and sound like a male... except for my chest. >.> Can't ninja my way under the radar, nor can anyone really who hasn't transitioned legally and physically in a convincing manner.

Aw, don't sell it short! I've been keeping my eye on indiegogo for a while, and watching the various trans-related fundraisers. Some have fallen abysmally short, but others have been ridiculously successful. I was watching the January Rising fundraiser as it was going on. I dunno what she did to get the word out there other than having really resourceful friends, but I saw her fund shoot up from 5k to 15k in a matter of weeks. It was awesome.