JUST TO CLARIFY TO THE FACTION LEAD, THIS IS BEING UPLOADED FOR A PERSON WITHOUT A FORUMS ACCOUNT!!! (knightpyre)
(has been confirmed that this is allowed!!!)
APPLICATION
OOC (Out-Of-Character) Information
What is your In-Game-Name (IGN)? Please include ALL your alternative accounts:
knightpyre
Do you have Discord? If so, what is your username?:
knightpyres
List your timezone and country:
England, GMT
Describe your activity:
Although I haven’t been on SRP for an abundance of time, I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent on it immensely. I’ve been a part of the wider roleplay community since I first got my Minecraft account in 2018, and I’ve participated in multiple long-term roleplays. It’s one of my favourite pastimes and I prefer to indulge in longer periods of roleplay in order to properly enjoy and explore.
This is my schedule for college (which will conclude on July 3rd and change following September), while my work schedule is emboldened. In Summer, I will be a lot more free, especially at night (for me) when the server is most active.
MON | TUES | WED | THURS | FRI | SAT | SUN |
8.40AM-3.45PM | 9.25AM-3.45PM | 8.40AM-10.10AM | 8.40AM-3.45PM | 12.45-2.15PM 5.30-8.30PM | | 5.30-8.30PM |
Link any significant applications (e.g., Roles/Teams, exclude languages):
None! This is my first…
What is your motivation to apply for reporter?:
I would love the opportunity to interact with more people while also contributing to the server. This faction is particularly appealing because I have such a passion for writing, especially in the stylised tone that is signature to newspapers. The unique interactions that come along with interviews also seems to be so much fun and I’d love to explore the positive and negative outcomes.
Do you have any experience with writing? What is your relationship with writing?:
Without a shadow of a doubt, writing is my favourite thing in the whole world and something I wish to pursue in the future. I’m currently studying English Literature and Language at college, with the firm intention to study Creative Writing at University. I participated in a wonderful year-long scriptwriting course in the most esteemed theatre in my home city (of which I was the youngest ever member, chosen as one of 15 out of 100+ applicants - let me flex), which helped me build my skills around dialogue and character individuality. I regularly write, whether it’s with other people in roleplay or working on my long-term novel project. With no exaggeration, it’s my favourite thing in the entire world.
Are you aware of - and will follow - the set of rules provided to you?:
Completely, in order to make roleplay enjoyable for others and myself.
Why should we accept you over others?:
I’m fully aware of the immense skill across the entire server, and I have no doubt that there are multiple other lovely candidates for this faction. However, I believe my experience with writing and my ability to ramble for hours on aid would suit the role, and I’m very set on creating reports that are built off the information I’ve received in-roleplay, whether it’s truthful or not, strictly avoiding meta-gaming.
Do you understand you have to stay completely neutral with all reports? (Your report can't have any OOC or IC bias towards a specific group.)
Naturally! It’s vital to the role and also creates interesting roleplay opportunities for myself and others.
Do you trust that you will be able to stay active and complete the monthly quota?:
I trust in my own time management. I would prefer to spread quota out evenly across the month, as to not burn out and to ensure the work is done to the highest standard.
Summarise what you imagine work as a reporter is:
With the nature of publicised writing, the intention to stay neutral and informative takes a certain skill. Combining that with the freedom to report on whatever you want, there’s a responsibility to maintain maturity and professionalism. Still, I’m certain a bit of fun and mischief is always on the table…
Effort is required to produce work that is the standard expected and needed. Commitment is needed, but passion is completely vital to the work done by this faction. Reading the broadcasts that go out, I can always tell how specific and carefully they’ve been written, yet still come off as effortless and charming.
IC (In-Character) Information:
Hunched over his sink like a weeping angel statue, Teddy furiously scrubbed ridiculously cold water against his face. Half of it escaped from his palms and splashed against his torso, making him look awfully like a baby in a spoiled bib as he stood before his bathroom mirror in his soaked pyjama shirt. Thank goodness he’d chosen to get dressed after cleaning up. There was no telling what he’d do with himself if he ruined his good shirt an hour before his interview…
As he looked up into the mirror, water running down his face like he’d just finished a marathon, he ignored how insane he looked and flashed the best smile he could.
“Aye, c’mon now. Nothen’ to be rattlen’ yerself aboot.”
A bright pink sticky note was stuck on the side of his mirror, questions scrawled across it in tiny print. The writing itself was hardly legible, but it seemed like Teddy already had it committed to memory.
Full Name:
Seemed easy enough. He reached for a towel as he spouted.
“That’d be Theodore Samuel Berry, though the folks that are fond of me tend to give me the grace of callen’ me Teddy. I hope you’ll do so, like.”
He stuck a wink to punctuate it, before fiercely scrubbing the expression off his face.
“None of that, they’ll think I’m touched. Or maybe they’d rate it… or call HR. Nee, better leave it out...”
Preferred Name/Nickname and Title (e.g., Ms, Mr)
He tossed the towel back on the rack, ignoring the new face-shaped wet patch that seemed to eye him disapprovingly at his lack of title.
“Well, I’d love to say summat propah like ‘Doctor’ or ‘Lord’, but I reckon it’d have t’be Mistah. Though ‘Lord Berry’ would sound class…”
It didn’t seem to occur to him that he was watering down his shampoo while he considered that.
“Like I said, my mates jus’ call me Teddy. I hardly even respond t’Theodore anymore. Makes me sound a bit old, dunnit?”
Current Age (25+):
Tragically, his toothpaste had seen better days, just like he had. All but flattened, with the logo faded where he’d clearly pressed down hard to get the stuff out.
“I reckon I still look a bit of a bairn, like. Got ID’d tryen’ to buy some bottles. Thought they were haven’ me on. I’m twenny-six, not some fresh lad out on his first bendah’.”
He let out a singular ‘ha!’ as he fought the tube.
“H’way, man, just… sorry, mate, y’know how these things can get. Since you’re totally here and all, aye.”
Tutting at his own madness, he rolled up the tube as tight as he could.
Past job/work experience:
He always favoured this question. The time he spent in that cramped journalism office was some of the best spent. Finally, a tiny bit of blue poked out the top of the tube.
“There we go!”
The bamboo toothbrush was already resting on the side of his sink, ready to be taken to battle.
“I used t’run the campus newspaper like the bloody Navy when I was in school. Never missed a deadline, never missed a headline. Granted, not many youngen’s actually read anythen’ that’s printed on paper and not blasten’ from their phone.”
Thank God this wasn’t the real thing. His words rapidly became completely incoherent the second he shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, twisting an egg timer for two minutes.
“I took a bit of time off after I finished school, looken’ after my old man. That’s the joy of this field though, ain’t it? All accessible and that. Barely left the house, and I still managed t’get some of my stuff in the propah Chronicle. That’s the biggest paper in Newcastle. Had a job lined up there, ‘fore we had to come here, like.”
Degree/qualifications:
The egg timer was still slowly turning, though the white foam in his mouth was starting to make him look like he’d managed to get rabies. Not quite as much as his wide eyes though, flicking to the pink sticker on occasion.
“Went to Durham Uni, got my shiny piece of paper in Journalism. Propah smart.”
The rigorous motions of his toothbrush only got more aggressive as he rambled on.
“Y’know, they say Durham’s s’posed t’be the fifth best Uni in the entire world, but I thought it was fucken’ miserable. Mostly went since it was close enough to nip back for my Ma if she needed me, but it was full of posh bellends, all propah up their own, like. Couldn’t pay me t’go back there.”
The egg exploded with sound, rattling so hard it fell into the bowl of the sink. Teddy picked it up, spat like the porcelain was his old school, and scratched his nose.
“Can’t really go on like that, though… they won’t press for that much. Hope not. Can’t lie in their faces, can I? Not unless I fancy bringen’ up brekkie in their faces the minute after…”
Nationality and born location:
Splashing his fingers under the cool water as he rinsed the toothbrush seemed to clear his mind a bit. Enough to recall the next question, at least.
“Aye, I’m born and raised in Newcastle. My Da’ was the same, but my Ma moved over from South Africa. Never been there myself. Too hot for me, I reckon.”
He set the toothbrush aside.
“We moved this way over when I was twennie-two. My Ma couldn’t really keep us up on her own, not with the way old Britannia’s headen’ and my Da’ bein’ sick and all, but I’m glad she got relocated here. People act better, like.”
Phone Number:
With a wry smile, Teddy looked his reflection in the eye.
“Aye, as canny as I am, you can’t be asken’ me out so blatantly! Though… after all this, I’m sure I can slip it over t’ye...”
Hmm. He slowly blinked at himself.
“S’that a bit odd…? They thought t’were charmen’ at home, but maybe here… ah, s’long as the interviewer’s calm, I’m sure it’ll be grand.”
From all the intensely flirtatious eye contact, he couldn’t help noticing the black fuzz that had snuck onto his cheeks over night.
“Always summat, ain’t there…? 030-406-1215, to let ya know.”
How would you describe yourself in under 150 words?:
Right now, the best way to describe himself would be ‘Santa Claus 24 hours on the run', judging by the white foam he smeared over his cheeks and jaw.
“I reckon the first thing anyone’d tell you about me s’that I can’t stomach lyen’. Like, literelly. I’d say et’s like an allergy - the second I tell a fib… just comes out o’me. Aside from tha’, you’ll find I’m propah easy going. Not a slacker, though, not one bit. I’ve looked after my Da’ most of my life, on top of school and all tha’. That’s why I reckon my best talent might be jugglen’ everythen’ at once. Ma’ used to call me an octopus, like. She meant it for all the hands, but my da’ always said it was about the hearts. Enough in me for all three, his words, not mine. I don’t like biggen’ myself up like tha’...though, I reckon I could have nine brains like octopi. Any day o’the week, like. Cheesed they said jugglen’ like an octopus and not a clown, at least…”
He frowned as the last words left his mouth, counting to six on his fingers before giving up.
“Ah, that’ll be reet…”
What are you interested in writing about? How will you achieve this, and would you consider going out of your comfort zone?:
Opening his mouth wide in order to create a clean canvas for his razor, his words came out as more of a hoot than a sentence.
“I really like writen’ about the little people. Yanno, you always read about the judges an’ the shrine leaders, but some of the most interesten’ people you’ll ever meet run homemade jam businesses or won the cheese-wheel race two years in a row…”
He frowned at his razor, with one clean streak down his cheek. There was the vague look of a disgruntled gnome about him.
“Is there a cheese-wheel race in Japan…?”
After a few more contortions of his face, most of the white foam was off, leaving a sparkling jawline underneath.
What are your expectations for the job?:
Water ran down his cheeks as he washed off the remnants of foam, his voice muffling slightly as droplets slipped into his mouth.
“I know from experience it’s propah full-on. I’m not a slacker, so that dun give me th’shivers, like. And it’s all fair. The worst thing aboot the papers in my canny little homeland, they’re all bein’ paid by someone or other.”
He patted his cheeks dry, running a hand over to make sure he hadn’t missed any stubble.
“An’ there’s expectations for the work I push out, like. Quota, I reckon you folk call it? I’m well behaved, swear doon. S’long as I get my eight hours, we’ll all be grand.”
One curl sprang as he tugged on it, pushing his afro into shape.
Do you have a criminal record? If so, list the crimes below:
Again, he flashed his prize-winning (supposedly) smile at the mirror.
“Nun’ of tha’. I’m a good lad, swear doon. My Da’ was even a Judge. In my blood, and all tha’.”
He tested the smile a few different ways - lips pressed together, top teeth showing, left side lifted into a smirk. All of them made him look like he was drunkenly taking his mugshot, but still. There was a certain charm about it.
Fluent Languages (Underline your native):
As a long sigh deflated his puffed chest, he made sure his voice was steadily paced - an interview is always a marathon, not a sprint.
“Well, growen’ up in England, I’m pretty alreet with tha’. My Japanese… well, you tell me, aye? I’m getten’ the hang of it in my own time, but I reckon it’s comen’ on fairly solid.”
He coughed.
“Learnen’ JSL in my free time, too. No reason that people shouldn’t have stories t’share just cause’ they can’t chat.”
With that, he kissed his fingers and pressed them to the post-it note, for good luck.
Prompts:
#1 - General Report. Report about a topic, informing players about an event or significant issues to Karakura.
A two-page spread sits before you, fluttering enticingly in whatever wind it can find.
#2 - Interview. It's important to have well-rounded questions. Create your own interview with ten questions or more. And answer them yourself.
[ After slotting the supplied VHS tape with the words “MISSUS APPLE” scrawled across, the following begins to play… ]
Following a slight scuffling sound, the sound of a record being carefully set down on a vinyl player cues in a low jazz tune. (Chet Baker’s ‘Chet Baker Sings’, for the educated…)
“Thes would be one Teddy Berry, interviewen’ an anonymous subject. Say hullo, Missus.”
The familiar voice of the Geordie man sounded perfectly at home overlapping the jazz vinyl.
“Do I entroduce myself…?”
A second voice spoke from slightly further away. Her words were still distinctive, wound slowly together by a rural Japanese accent. She sounded young, but well-spoken.
“No, love, your identity’s be’en nicely kept a secret. S’that alright with ye?”
“What well you call me, then…?”
“You can choose a pseudonym. Whatever y’fancy.”
As he spoke, Teddy was setting down a drink and a notepad, rustling papers as he seemingly sought a clean page.
“Ahuh… ef you’re Mester Berry… then I’ll be Mess Apple.”
“Aye, in that case… Teddy Berry leaden’ an interview on Missus Apple, title is a working progress, but let’s have a placeholder… ‘Karakura’s Open Arms”. Time is 5:34PM, on June 22nd.”
A pen clicked.
“So, Missus Apple, would’ye mind describen’ where you moved over from?”
“I grew up on a farm, a few hours train ride from here… I don’t thenk et ever actually had a name. We just called et ‘Three’, sence only three families ever leved there.”
“So, ye’didn’t grow up around many folks, I take it?”
“No… do I seem unsocialised…? Oh, Heavens…”
“Nah, nah, nu’in like tha’! I thought you were actually surprisenly’ well spoken.”
“You aren’t lyeng to make me feel better…?”
“Oh, no, Missus. I can swear doon that I’d never lie t’ye.”
“Ahuh, ef you say so… no, et was a fairly people-free childhood, by your standards. Our neighbours cheldren were all grown up by the time I was ten, so I never really spoke to anyone my age untel I came here… ah, no! I spoke to a young lady on the train here…”
A quiet moment passed as Teddy hummed along to the music, his pen scratching the paper.
“I’m tryen’ to imagine tha’. Must’ve been lonely for a wee girl.”
“I don’t thenk I ever realised that et wasn’t normal…”
“Fair does… better than lamenten’ for what you couldn’t have. Was the transition into such a busy toon shocken’, like?”
“Oh, quite… et’s strange to see somewhere everywhere I go. Though, I guess thes es what we’d call human’s natural habetat.”
She paused for a second.
“I thought everyone would always be speakeng to one another, but most people I walk past are stareng at those lettle cellular devices. “
“Phones?”
“Nasty thengs… they scare me.”
“Aye, I feel ye there. They’re like the face huggen’ bastards in tha’ Alien movie. Have y’seen it?”
A beat of silence passed, before Teddy chuckled.
“S’alright, dunnae worry. Just verbalise your answers, if you can. They cannae hear you nod.”
“Ahuh… My apologies.”
Her voice seemed to burst out at double the volume.
“I HAVE NOT SEEN THE ALIEN MOVIE-”
“By God, Missus! They’ll hear that, alright… moven’ on. D’you reckon Karakura was a welcomen’ city for a farm girl like yourself?”
“I thenk the buildengs and stuff weren’t. Et can get a bet confuseng to walk around on my own… I can’t find my own apartment wethout the GPS. As for people… hmm… et’s a mexture. Some people were happy to answer questions, and others looked at me like I was speakeng a defferent language. Though, maybe I was...”
“Did ye expect it to be like tha’?”
“Not really. I thought et would be a faster environment than home, weth all those vehicles… but I thought people would be kinder. I always thenk people well be kind, I find et geves a better ferst empression. I do thenk that’ll get me ento trouble here, one day…”
“So, you’d say they’re propah different, like? How would ye want it t’be more similar?”
“I’d like people to move slower. Everyone es always rusheng… there never seems to be anyone just walkeng around, appreciateng what’s around them… I love all the colours en the shoppeng destrect, but everyone walks past et like et’s a plain grey wall.”
“Y’know, I reckon I’m guilty of tha’… I used to go up to the shrine just to stare at th’builden’, but now if I pop over it’s just t’get business done and dusted.”
“I suppose people get used to thengs when they’ve seen them a thousand times. Buildengs don’t change the way nature does...”
“You’ve got a point there, Missus Apple. Let’s think on the positives, aye? What’s a part of Karakura that’s still propah different but you’re fond on it? What’re you writen’ home about?”
“Ohh… I love the apartment blocks. Everyone es so close together, et’s not isolateng en the way that the farm was. Some days, I’ll walk home en a rotten mood, and bumpeng ento someone weth a smile just makes everytheng feel better…. Sorry. I know I’m contradecteng myself sayeng people are glued to their screens, but there’s too many folks to melt down ento one statement…”
“Don’t apologise, you’re reet. Humans don’t really suit just one hat. But on that note… would you suggest this toon as a new home for someone looken’ to move?”
“I don’t know anyone lookeng to move…”
“Hypothetically, then.”
“Can I have their background…?”
“Let’s go with it being similar t’your own. Grew up on a farm, but feelen’ like they need to stretch their wings a tad.”
“Well… I can’t speak for everyone, but I don’t thenk I’d suggest et to another farmer.”
“Pray tell, Missus Apple.”
“Et’s like being thrown ento a new world, really. I had never even seen a computer before I came here… my friend had to show me how to use a vendeng machene. Et was quite embarrasseng at ferst, actually… I stell get nervous to ask for help weth some thengs I don’t understand. I thenk… ef they can find a cety that relies less on machenes, that’s a better fet.”
A moment of intense scribbling filled the hanging silence.
“Es that alright to say…?”
“You can say whatever you like, pet. Don’t be scared of getten’ harassed by anyone, this is private and for few ears only.”
“Thank you…”
“If y’think et’s not a good suit for someone like you, d’ye reckon you’ll stay here for your future?”
“I thenk so… ahuh. I thenk I would, really. Now that I’ve been here and experienced so many thengs, the world would feel so lettle back home. I couldn’t survive here wethout goeng home, though… I need those quiet breaks.”
“I reckon this place’s lucky to have you, Missus. S’a better place when you’re here.”
“Don’t be selly…”
“But you can see y’self integrating properly? You dunnae think you’ll feel like an outsider forever, and you won’t be treated like one?”
“I can’t say anytheng defenete, but I do thenk people learn to exest alongside sometheng they wouldn’t conseder the ‘norm’. And I thenk I’ll always be defferent en my mind, but I’ll be comfortable weth how to get along here.”
“That’s lovely. Now, Missus Apple. This is my last question for ye.”
“Ahuh… shame…”
“This one’s the most important, and I care most about this answer. S’that good with you?”
“I’ll do my best to answer.”
“Are you happy here?”
A long silence passed. It sounded like a drink was picked up, sipped, and set back down before the girl spoke again. There was no sound from Teddy’s side.
“Yes, I am. Et took a moment, but… I would call thes place home now.”
From the tape, a loud clap emerged, initially sounding like a firecracker before it was followed by Teddy’s laughter. “That’s what I wanted t’hear! That’s music t’my ears, Missus Apple, really is.”
The girl laughed.
“Thank you, Mester Berry.”
“D’ye have anythen’ else you’d like to say to the tape before I end thes?”
“Ohh… can I say the theng at the end, to conclude et? Like what you said at the start?”
“H’way, why not! C’mere. Y’just have to say my name, the title, and what time it is right now.”
The next words were much louder, clearly closer in proximity.
“Thes es the end of Teddy Berry’s enterview, titled… what was et…?”
“Karakura’s open arms.”
“Teddy Berry’s enterview weth Mess Apple, titled ‘Karakura’s open arms’, the time es… 6.05PM on the 22nd day of June… byebye…!”
“I’ll go on record t’say I, Teddy Berry, officially conclude thes enterview. Cheers.”
The tape finished, leaving the room suddenly vacant of strange accents.
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