IGN: _A3he
List your discord name and tag (name#0000): Verified_idiot.
Additionally, do you have a microphone and can speak via discord?: Yes! I do have a microphone and actively participate in calls.
Your time zone and current country of residence: CST [GMT-6] / United States
Link any previous community team applications if applicable: Accepted | Event Team Application
Do you recognize you could be removed from the community team?: I do recognize and agree with this term.
List a few things that may obstruct your progress/development on the Lore Team.
Two key things may obstruct my time within the team: Health and School.
Since I was young, I’ve been given the blessing of an undiagnosed disorder which can lead to a sporadic amount of (unwanted) trips to doctors. These trips, in more recent years, have lowered as I was given the capability to put more time towards focusing on my life since it (my illness) became a pretty constant thing, but from time to time I will have to take my leave on certain events (luckily, I am always able to know in advance! And, sometimes these visits can change). School is pretty straightforward with the fact that I have to attend, but when I get home I am typically free after 3:30 pm (CST) excluding (soon to end) after-school events and/or IRL events.
What makes you passionate about writing?:
I’m not particularly sure, I’ve just always found myself with this lingering passion. I feel as though when writing I can just release some tension and display myself with words through my expression in writing. Ever since a long time ago (more than a few years now), I have always had the need to write and express myself through storytelling, no matter what form that may have been through. I’ve written in multiple styles and types over the years and truly just want to continue improving/doing what I love. Writing is the one thing in my life I can never lose passion for. There are some variants of hobbies that you can try out to do one time or even two yet you fall out of line with them, however, I will never be capable of giving up writing as I find it such an amazing and intricate subject.
Do you have any previous experience with writing lore or creative writing as a general aspect?:
The first word my brain defaulted to upon reading this was YES. I have a devoted and burning passion for writing of all kinds, leading me to actively participate in anything related to writing (i.e, event team) especially the creation of lore and events. For around six or so years the majority of my time had quite literally been spent just excessive writing in my spare time. Rarely have I ever depicted writing as a grueling task due to how you can get so easily lost in your words and pure imagination. Overall, I would summarize my experience with creative writing/lore as nothing but passion and a great time passer. There have been times when I've taken random prompts and dug deep into writing for them, or even filling out applications even if I didn’t necessarily look to fulfill them, solely for the fact that I could continue to write. Lore is something I have written into quite a few times over my time on SRP, and a few times (surprisingly) beforehand in real life. While I do not particularly have many references, I have created a few pieces over my time. I feel as though lore falls into one of the categories in which I can just easily flow and work with, rarely having issues with the prompts. If you’d like some of my best examples of work, I would turn to my time on the event team as this period helped me develop a stronger and better understanding of writing.
In your own words, give your definition of lore:
In my opinion, lore is one of the most simply indispensable key factors you need when creating any plot or character.
Let's talk writing prompts. When creating any sort of prompt, fiction to nonfiction, essay to description, you need some form of plan (or familiarity) to work off of, and you usually dig into background information to do so. I find lore to be a resource you can use to build your plot and shape your character's story. Without having lore or a general idea of what you are going to do, you're creating a hollow scene that will be hard to expand upon in the future. Lore acts as a building block that you use in writing to shape your story, similar to a resourceful information site. Via having lore before you begin your writing process, you have a better structure for your story. So, what about character development? Yes, you can create a character with a certain look and shape them in a specific way, even giving them a defined personality! However, if you choose to make this decision without defining any other features of their past, you'd be making a huge mistake as it could lead you down a slippery slope—and yes, I am speaking from personal experience. While some are capable of creating these plot lines later down the road, it's best to have a general scope of what you intend to do before cutting straight into it. How I try to think of it when I want to take the easy road and avoid character lore is by making myself remember this simple reference—architecture.
Lore acts as the core to all stories, the main cornerstone that supports an entire building. If you are working on a prompt without some form of background, how will you create a functional structure in the future? Lore is the blueprint, the insights that lead you into knowing what is (and isn't to, or shouldn't) come. How does this apply to architectural backgrounds? Well, I see it in a pretty straightforward way. Architecture focuses on the area of designing and constructing buildings. There are three main types of architecture: Classical, Modern, and Contemporary. Similarly to architecture, I feel there is a unique focus on lore and its own types (or, styles). Lore, in my opinion, is the background of a location/character in the form of a collective group of documents or mere words. For this reason, lore is the building block, the drafting point of architecture that brings a story to life. With this, lore has many forms—the most basic being historical and modern. From this there are many other subcategories that branch into the forms of lore, focusing on what you are writing about.
WRITING PROMPTS:
RULES
- There is a 300-1000 word limit that applies to both prompts. Because of flow, if you need to go a little over or under, you are permitted to, but as soon as a prompt is 100 words outside the limit, you will be automatically denied.
- The effort and quality of both prompts will be taken into consideration when we accept applications.
#1
Summarize a character conflict, roleplay conflict, or event that you experienced (server-wide, personal, etcetera- there is no bar for how ‘interesting’ or ‘impactful’ it is).
Fate's trail in a forest of deception.
A sky so vibrant and full of life contrasted the dull, bleak aura that lined the day's atmosphere. Not a single cloud dared to cast itself on this profound day. Along one particular trail—one so familiar to those of Karakura, one that marked the start of Ochiba forest—sat a particular adult with long dulled-out black hair, piercing white strands, and gnawing blue eyes. Humming a French tune, striding to approach this path, an unknown presence obscured her waltz. In a rather hasty manner, the man made himself known to the unsuspecting woman, abruptly. Similar in height, their paths crossed with a mere glance, the eyes of two threatening wolves outlined the newfound awareness of each other.
The cawing of a bird, and the vast roaring of bears—all marked beyond the splashing and playing of children in the local pond. Amongst this Saturday evening was nothing less than joy. Strangely, just past the trees towards a notable mark of Eden was a wide commotion, one to block off the sound of anything that distrusted the serenity of Ochiba forest.
Two individuals met each other at such a time, on such a day—this could be described as nothing less than twisted fate. Such discrepancies in pace caused a minor agitation to fuel a spark in the air, along with a sudden switch in his pace. Twirling back around to approach the woman with such sudden haste, surely the aura had changed. With a demeanor appearing bright and bubbly, as though he was a lost child with daring curiosity, he apologized. Slowly, they matched pace with each other down the path, two individuals found to have burning curiosity in similar divisions, sparking new conversation, one in formally unfamiliar territory.
Past the rumbling of children's laughter, through the crowded atmosphere of splashing and the boisterous ambiance of animals, down away from the crowded Tree of Eden, sat a house. One that many would recognize but only the select would be allowed to enter through their influence, a house owned by the Spartans of Karakura's local college. Such a path as the one Ochiba led itself to the ledge of a bush—the start of a new trail.
Cobbled stone rocks, fallen branches, and autumn's earliest auburn palette marked the rigid edges of the Spartan trail. Once paved in prior cleanliness through fresh dirt and stone now took on a new shaping through its deteriorated course. Front center on this path sat the start of a mountain, on which Ochiba's trail climbed and found its markings. Directly to the left of this short path, tucked away by a mere bush sat a tattered, obstructed ‘party’ shed. The door was busted off its hinges with a minority of blood dripped on the handle as broken glass lined the floor. Reflecting an abandoned ambiance, the shed matched nicely with the patch of emptied field sitting off to the left of it. Plantation waiting to come that never would. Just before the mountain was a log, partnered with a fire pit. If you were to take a short walk down the path parallel to the edge of this log you'd be met by the entrance of this spartan house. With nothing but a glance, it'd appear easy to make out the broken down and worn view of the building, seeming to barely hang on by a thread through the constant repolish of the college's cheap repairs. To the right of the turned path was a stage, one that seemed newer than the house—to the left was a fire, a campfire that never seemed to lose its flame.
Conjoined in such religiously recited conversation, something suddenly flipped. The man stopped walking at the tip of the bush, the woman continuing ahead. Now all sound presented itself in a deafening silence, engulfed into fear. It was as though every animal and lively figure creating the forest's ambiance had simultaneously perished, and now the sky was marked in dim light. Breaking the seemingly never-ending silence was a sudden interrogation, one of unprovoked madness to muster up some sort of confession from the woman. Repetitively he pressed and riddled with her mind, accusing her of being nothing more than a lowlife criminal through his unprovoked delusion. Click. A specific sound that could be mistaken for a pen's mechanisms, if lucky enough to not know the true horrors—such as a mark of death, one that reflected a gun. The sound reflected through the forest like a pin being dropped in a hollowed-out room.
“I'm sorry.”
The only thing that could be mustered up as the silvery-shaded bullet pierced through her leg. Bang. Another fired past her head, and another, until it didn't pass and hit her right in the chest. The man ran away, as fast as he could, back through the forest and from the animals, past the splashing of kids, and most importantly past the crowds of people entertaining such a speech, now obstructed by fear and paranoia—coward. Had the man just become the one thing he so wished to avoid, or had he done the world a favor? Continuing to run, he refused to look back. As crowds tend to do, the hoard rushed to the scene of the crime, restlessly pleading with whatever kami they preferred to find the victim before her untimely death. Unfortunately for the man, she was very well alive, rescued in the nick of time to be announced as a hero and a survivor. As one's intuition is particularly right, his was on such a fateful day. The vibrant and personality-driven woman found herself to be Karakura’s most notorious criminal, and the now-only survivor of Guang Feng, an international Chinese serial killer.
(The story of Celeste O’Sullivan and Guang Feng)
#2
Create a folklore tale based on an existing area in Karakura of your choosing; tell us a story! Show us how creative you can get. Be sure to follow the above guidelines.
Throw your pitiful coin into obligatory bliss.
Tucked away in the mellow atmosphere of the Ochiba Forest lay a tattered house, one with little recognition. Conjoined on the ground of this doddery house rests a well, one with an overflowing path of glaucous, blooming life. Glancing upon the well, it’d grow ever more vast despite its original outer appearance. Clearly, something had to have been unique to have gained its acquainted shimmering gold light. Underneath this stream of life was a room, a natural concoct of stone and moss. In the center was a pool, one that caught the ever-flowing water from this well, water that seemed to never drain nor lose its pace despite the abnormal flow. The floor seemed almost perfectly smooth, ironic to the rough edges that pierced the stone walls guarding the pool. From the walls, two holes found themselves present: one that led to a continuous stream and the other that had found itself a view to the mountainside, giving a vibrant entrance of light that glistened off the water’s edge.
Resting at the bottom of the pool, nay center, a pendant. A small mulberry medallion wrapped with a gold chain and intricately placed text, framing the smoothed edges of its ovoid shape. To the modern citizen, this text read unfamiliar, yet to the very few who could still understand such a centenarian language, it’d be written off as Ancient Karakuran. To have such foreign inscriptions yet seeming faintly similar to those in the modern world was too much of a hassle for most historians to divulge into. Rarely anyone knew of the language unless they were from a line of ancient warriors, or a god themselves. The pendant reflected an almost supernatural feel, a distant beam radiating from the gem that had a glow in the clear waters only at night. Now hidden by moss and colorful rows of coral, the glow was faded, and the gem seemed lost. Over the years, very few travelers found themselves focused on locating said gem, little to none have succeeded. Seemingly, a recurring theme showed itself to these scavengers: death.
A medallion of such rarity and odd location wouldn’t be easy to conjure, nor obtain.
Those who went treasure hunting were merciless, searching day and night to no end. Rumors countlessly sparked up about the Takagi well, the one that cast its magical flow of water into the Isolde Pool below. Countless came searching to even spot the location of the gem, but few were lucky. Only a particular group was chosen to see the shimmery view reflect itself across the stone at night and know what it was alluring to. Unfortunately, one particular traveler found himself to be a part of the lucky few. It was a grueling winter’s night, yet the cave was warm and the pool was as alluring as ever. Catching a night’s rest, the man stumbled to the pool’s edge after being stranded in the fury of winter's blizzard, taking a sip from the youthful flow of water. In an era of no technological communication, only the stories passed down to him from his elders aided quest—and coincidentally, knowledge of the gem—the traveler’s head perked up, spotting the vibrant glow against the beauteous cave. Surely, it wasn't true? Without a second thought or a removal of his coat, the man dove straight into the water with a colossal gasp of air. Taking a quick pace, the traveler located the gem in an instant, reaching forth to grab the pendant. A stramash came from the man as he began to relentlessly tug at the item.
. . . only to find it chained, tethered to the bottom of the pool. It wasn’t of human creation, no, it was something unnatural, as though a curse had been sworn onto the foreign-seeming pendant. Now gasping for air as his time ran short, his head jerked up in the dense waters. Fueled by a clouded haze and dark smoke, the waters turned far from the vibrant life they once saw as the pool became a sea, a sea of vast lusterless death. The pure size of the pool seemed to continuously grow in width as water rapidly poured in, creating a violent atmosphere while his spent body tirelessly dug through the dense waters, seeking some hope to view the surface once more. Once so brave and full of joy, now pitifully dying in a brutal manner. A man had fallen to fate in his own greed, the greed of his ancestors—not knowing what was forward or backward.
Then it was, the storm that had overcome the body of water ceased its noise, quiet.
A hand showed itself extended outwards towards the traveler, one of vibrant translucent blue, almost humanoid yet with webbed fingers and scaly arms. He had nay time to think and took the kind gesture, taking hold of whatever anthropoid hand it appeared to be with his last choked gulp of air. Though, it wasn’t a kind gesture, it was a ruse. With the last look of hope in his tireless eye, he found his body sinking, deep down within the depths of the water, back into his prison, drowning in the poison of a false hope. Appearances found themselves to be deceiving, as the hand now acted as a chain, pulling weight onto his body like a ship's anchor. As the density grew evermore, a choking, ripping feeling tore at his throat. A release of air, and then silence, the water was still. Floating tranquil on the surface of the water as his body danced against the waves, a lifeless depiction found itself in line with the once more shimmering pool. The well had claimed its prize, a soul that strengthened the pendant.
It has been rumored that the pendant worked as its own person, not one of human creation, but a god cast down to live its life stuck in a jewel, evermore wishing day after day for revenge. One that caught the eye of only the greedy, one that fed its large appetite. They say if you toss a coin into the well it’ll flow down the stream, evaporating faster than a pit of acid as your luck turns to plagued agony—whatever is locked down in those wretched waters eats at your soul without a second’s thought, finding its victim easily in the greedy.
(The story of the Takagi hut's well)