IGN:
ghcsted [main, applying!]
windswake [alt]
List your discord name and tag (name#0000):
ghcsted
Additionally, do you have a microphone and can speak via discord?
I do have a microphone, and am perfectly capable of speaking via Discord!
Your time zone and current country of residence:
BST; England
Link any previous community team applications if applicable:
N/A
Do you recognize you could be removed from the community team?
I recognise this and understand that I could be removed!
List a few things that may obstruct your progress/development on the Lore Team.
School
I’m an A-level student, having started my second (and final!) year of college recently. Some of my time will be dedicated to coursework and homework, along with preparations for university as I’ll have to apply before January 2024. A lot of this will be done within college time, so it shouldn’t impact my availability too much. Alongside college, I’m currently looking for a part-time job as I’m wanting to move out when I attend university, and will need some sort of stable income. My efforts have been fruitless so far, but here’s to hoping! This will also put a dent in my availability, but considering I’m usually around at nights, and won’t be working on nights, it should be fine!
SRP
I’m part of EMS, which means that a bit of my time will be dedicated to gaining quota and staying active within the faction, but I’m sure it won’t obstruct too much of my availability. I also dedicate some time planning out character arcs for my main character, and overall figuring her out as I’m wanting her to stick around for a while.
Personal
A more personal thing that may obstruct my progress/development would probably be the fact that sharing the things I write is such a terrifying concept to me. Especially people who I know. It’s not necessarily going to have an impact on my production, but after sharing the things I create, it’s possible that I’ll be an anxious mess. I hate it, and I wish I was more capable of sharing the things I’m passionate about, but it’s a part of who I am that I’ve had to live with. That isn’t to say that I’m completely incapable—I am capable, I just have a bit of a flair and dramatics, as some might say.
What makes you passionate about writing?:
In short, the passion that drives my writing is the desire to bring things to life. I’ve always been obsessed with creating stories from a young age, especially creating for people. In recent years, writing for others enjoyment has been such a strong influence on my writing and wanting to better the quality of my writing. Seeing people genuinely enjoying the stories I write never, ever fails to make me smile. That, and possessing the ability to create powerful scenes that I’ve seen in animation/drawing mediums (that I know I’ll never be able to replicate) is one of my favourite things about myself. I’m immensely proud of a majority of my works that have been driven by this passion to create and provide.
Do you have any previous experience with writing lore or creative writing as a general aspect?:
Lore
A few years ago, I created this wonderful world based on an SMP I used to run with a few close friends. I spent hours pouring over the lore, the stories and the characters that I’d been given permission to create, and I had such a fun time with it. It’s gone untouched for about a year now, but I still look back on it fondly.
A more recent lore creation/piece would be the Higglebottom Lore: The Perils of the Rise and the Safety of the Fall! Of course, this was a combined effort between myself and Kota, but I helped out and I enjoyed writing it so so much. It’s honestly so fulfilling to write things that others may enjoy or become invested in. Plus, we’re still working on it, and it’s a part of my week that I really enjoy!
Creative Writing
It’s kind of embarrassing to admit on a public forum, but I do have an ao3 account that I sometimes still post on. My longest running series has a… modest amount of kudos, and people certainly seemed to enjoy it (whether due to the writing or characters, I’m still not sure…) and it has given me a ton of experience in writing! I thoroughly enjoy it when I get into it, and definitely still write for people on ao3 to this day. I constantly find myself improving when I write for people, because I want it to be the best it can be for their enjoyment.
I’m a writer in a few tailoring servers, though I mainly write descriptions rather than stories, but this has given me experience in writing with an audience or consumer(?) in mind rather than just for my own personal enjoyment. Additionally, when I used to be a professor, I taught creative writing! Originally, it was worldbuilding, but creative writing seemed like a much more vast and interesting subject, and I had so much fun making interactive lessons for students to enjoy regarding the subject.
Creative writing in general is a pretty prominent hobby in my life.
In your own words, give your definition of lore:
Lore, in terms of fiction, is the support or pillars of a world. It includes history, characters, events, traditions and more. Without lore, you don’t particularly have somewhere for people to live. There are no events that make up the current state of the place, no reasons for people to avoid or flock to certain areas. It lacks flavour, in a way; instead of having a fruitful, exciting and interesting place, you’d instead have a bland, boring and monotone place. Lore is what makes fictional worlds so enticing for people. Stories are built upon these foundations.
ghcsted [main, applying!]
windswake [alt]
List your discord name and tag (name#0000):
ghcsted
Additionally, do you have a microphone and can speak via discord?
I do have a microphone, and am perfectly capable of speaking via Discord!
Your time zone and current country of residence:
BST; England
Link any previous community team applications if applicable:
N/A
Do you recognize you could be removed from the community team?
I recognise this and understand that I could be removed!
List a few things that may obstruct your progress/development on the Lore Team.
School
I’m an A-level student, having started my second (and final!) year of college recently. Some of my time will be dedicated to coursework and homework, along with preparations for university as I’ll have to apply before January 2024. A lot of this will be done within college time, so it shouldn’t impact my availability too much. Alongside college, I’m currently looking for a part-time job as I’m wanting to move out when I attend university, and will need some sort of stable income. My efforts have been fruitless so far, but here’s to hoping! This will also put a dent in my availability, but considering I’m usually around at nights, and won’t be working on nights, it should be fine!
SRP
I’m part of EMS, which means that a bit of my time will be dedicated to gaining quota and staying active within the faction, but I’m sure it won’t obstruct too much of my availability. I also dedicate some time planning out character arcs for my main character, and overall figuring her out as I’m wanting her to stick around for a while.
Personal
A more personal thing that may obstruct my progress/development would probably be the fact that sharing the things I write is such a terrifying concept to me. Especially people who I know. It’s not necessarily going to have an impact on my production, but after sharing the things I create, it’s possible that I’ll be an anxious mess. I hate it, and I wish I was more capable of sharing the things I’m passionate about, but it’s a part of who I am that I’ve had to live with. That isn’t to say that I’m completely incapable—I am capable, I just have a bit of a flair and dramatics, as some might say.
What makes you passionate about writing?:
In short, the passion that drives my writing is the desire to bring things to life. I’ve always been obsessed with creating stories from a young age, especially creating for people. In recent years, writing for others enjoyment has been such a strong influence on my writing and wanting to better the quality of my writing. Seeing people genuinely enjoying the stories I write never, ever fails to make me smile. That, and possessing the ability to create powerful scenes that I’ve seen in animation/drawing mediums (that I know I’ll never be able to replicate) is one of my favourite things about myself. I’m immensely proud of a majority of my works that have been driven by this passion to create and provide.
Do you have any previous experience with writing lore or creative writing as a general aspect?:
Lore
A few years ago, I created this wonderful world based on an SMP I used to run with a few close friends. I spent hours pouring over the lore, the stories and the characters that I’d been given permission to create, and I had such a fun time with it. It’s gone untouched for about a year now, but I still look back on it fondly.
A more recent lore creation/piece would be the Higglebottom Lore: The Perils of the Rise and the Safety of the Fall! Of course, this was a combined effort between myself and Kota, but I helped out and I enjoyed writing it so so much. It’s honestly so fulfilling to write things that others may enjoy or become invested in. Plus, we’re still working on it, and it’s a part of my week that I really enjoy!
Creative Writing
It’s kind of embarrassing to admit on a public forum, but I do have an ao3 account that I sometimes still post on. My longest running series has a… modest amount of kudos, and people certainly seemed to enjoy it (whether due to the writing or characters, I’m still not sure…) and it has given me a ton of experience in writing! I thoroughly enjoy it when I get into it, and definitely still write for people on ao3 to this day. I constantly find myself improving when I write for people, because I want it to be the best it can be for their enjoyment.
I’m a writer in a few tailoring servers, though I mainly write descriptions rather than stories, but this has given me experience in writing with an audience or consumer(?) in mind rather than just for my own personal enjoyment. Additionally, when I used to be a professor, I taught creative writing! Originally, it was worldbuilding, but creative writing seemed like a much more vast and interesting subject, and I had so much fun making interactive lessons for students to enjoy regarding the subject.
Creative writing in general is a pretty prominent hobby in my life.
In your own words, give your definition of lore:
Lore, in terms of fiction, is the support or pillars of a world. It includes history, characters, events, traditions and more. Without lore, you don’t particularly have somewhere for people to live. There are no events that make up the current state of the place, no reasons for people to avoid or flock to certain areas. It lacks flavour, in a way; instead of having a fruitful, exciting and interesting place, you’d instead have a bland, boring and monotone place. Lore is what makes fictional worlds so enticing for people. Stories are built upon these foundations.
WRITING PROMPTS:
#1 Summarise 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). Be sure to follow the above guidelines.
Murky Reflections [772 words]
* This piece is based on the flood that occurred during/after the Spring Luau in March 2023.
It’s odd how evidence of a long-passed tragedy is still present so long after it occurred.
Like scars against skin, twisted and out of place, yet in this specific instance, donning the mask of deck chairs in the shallows of the sea, dried blood upon the rocks, and the ruins of unused docks by abandoned beach houses.
Undisturbed by both the forces of nature and by human hand, worryingly so. The amount of debris left behind paints the city in an unpleasant light, one of disregard and destruction as opposed to the assumed desire of a light reflecting prosperity and stability. Something a growing area would seem to care for, yet no such thing is apparent in the treatment or repair of the ruin caused by the flood.
Left behind and forgotten by a neglectful council, so obviously uncaring of the environment surrounding their own borders, to be accepted as normal and simply existing as a statement, a fact of the city, by civilians. It used to be a lovely place, undisturbed by each and every disaster that seems to befall this town; its gentle sloping beach and untouched waters brimming with sea life. Now it seems like nothing but a bland husk of itself.
Gone are the days of excitement for beach parties, get togethers, dates — replaced by the feeling of indifference and apathy at best, disgust and anger at worst. Fallen silent, even as the sun beats down on the golden grains in the height of the summer months. What it once was is lost. Has been lost from the moment the demands to care for the place went unheard.
On occasion, the gentle swish of trainers kicking up sand permeates the still air in a sound unheard for days. The drag of feet along the shoreline, accompanied only by the squawk of a nearby gull or the sound of the waves rolling into the earth before retreating to safety.
Safety from what? None are too sure. The violence, the fear, the corruption. People go missing; people get found, though the latter is rarely true.
But, nevertheless, today was one of the days that one lonely soul decided to walk along the undisturbed sands of Karakura beach. The day itself was cold and wet, with rain coming down softly yet — it was the type of rain that soaks you to the bone within minutes of standing in it. Misty and damp.
It was miserable.
And yet a young girl still walks through it, seemingly uncaring of the fact that her jacket was drenched and darkened. Previously vibrant reds turned crimson, blending into the black and gold accents of the jersey while her dirty blonde hair goes almost untouched by the moisture.
In her ears, hidden behind a dyed pink lock, are a simple pair of wired earphones, the off white hue suggestive of wear and use. It connects to something in her back pocket: a phone or an iPod. There’s sound leak — the chords of an unfamiliar band echoing across the empty sands much like the gleeful yell in a tunnel, only this sings a much more dreary tune.
Wandering past the volleyball courts, the water park, the beach houses; along the broken down docks, only to stop at the end with a huff of breath. Earphones come out and music is paused. Only the sound of the waves and the rain, growing heavier by the second, remain.
She allows herself to breathe. To breathe alongside the drenched, rotting wood dipping under her weight. To breathe alongside the tattered umbrella just under the surface of the water below her, fluttering helplessly in the currents. To breathe alongside the remaining wildlife, to remember a time when the island was a place where diversity could thrive.
To remember a time long forgotten by those with the power to restore the beauty of before.
Minutes pass. It’s as simple as that. They don’t feel longer or shorter than they should. There’s no dragging on if time, or feeling like it goes faster than it actually was. It’s not complicated. Minutes pass.
Earphones go back in, music gets unpaused, and the girl walks back along the shoreline. She kicks up sand as she wanders across the barren land. The rain is still cold and soaks her clothes through to her skin. She leaves, and the norm is restored.
A norm that should be so much brighter, that was so much brighter, but has been left to rot and decompose.
Light turned to dark. An eclipse of the moon crossing over the sun.
Casting murky reflections on the surface of the water.
Murky Reflections [772 words]
* This piece is based on the flood that occurred during/after the Spring Luau in March 2023.
It’s odd how evidence of a long-passed tragedy is still present so long after it occurred.
Like scars against skin, twisted and out of place, yet in this specific instance, donning the mask of deck chairs in the shallows of the sea, dried blood upon the rocks, and the ruins of unused docks by abandoned beach houses.
Undisturbed by both the forces of nature and by human hand, worryingly so. The amount of debris left behind paints the city in an unpleasant light, one of disregard and destruction as opposed to the assumed desire of a light reflecting prosperity and stability. Something a growing area would seem to care for, yet no such thing is apparent in the treatment or repair of the ruin caused by the flood.
Left behind and forgotten by a neglectful council, so obviously uncaring of the environment surrounding their own borders, to be accepted as normal and simply existing as a statement, a fact of the city, by civilians. It used to be a lovely place, undisturbed by each and every disaster that seems to befall this town; its gentle sloping beach and untouched waters brimming with sea life. Now it seems like nothing but a bland husk of itself.
Gone are the days of excitement for beach parties, get togethers, dates — replaced by the feeling of indifference and apathy at best, disgust and anger at worst. Fallen silent, even as the sun beats down on the golden grains in the height of the summer months. What it once was is lost. Has been lost from the moment the demands to care for the place went unheard.
On occasion, the gentle swish of trainers kicking up sand permeates the still air in a sound unheard for days. The drag of feet along the shoreline, accompanied only by the squawk of a nearby gull or the sound of the waves rolling into the earth before retreating to safety.
Safety from what? None are too sure. The violence, the fear, the corruption. People go missing; people get found, though the latter is rarely true.
But, nevertheless, today was one of the days that one lonely soul decided to walk along the undisturbed sands of Karakura beach. The day itself was cold and wet, with rain coming down softly yet — it was the type of rain that soaks you to the bone within minutes of standing in it. Misty and damp.
It was miserable.
And yet a young girl still walks through it, seemingly uncaring of the fact that her jacket was drenched and darkened. Previously vibrant reds turned crimson, blending into the black and gold accents of the jersey while her dirty blonde hair goes almost untouched by the moisture.
In her ears, hidden behind a dyed pink lock, are a simple pair of wired earphones, the off white hue suggestive of wear and use. It connects to something in her back pocket: a phone or an iPod. There’s sound leak — the chords of an unfamiliar band echoing across the empty sands much like the gleeful yell in a tunnel, only this sings a much more dreary tune.
Wandering past the volleyball courts, the water park, the beach houses; along the broken down docks, only to stop at the end with a huff of breath. Earphones come out and music is paused. Only the sound of the waves and the rain, growing heavier by the second, remain.
She allows herself to breathe. To breathe alongside the drenched, rotting wood dipping under her weight. To breathe alongside the tattered umbrella just under the surface of the water below her, fluttering helplessly in the currents. To breathe alongside the remaining wildlife, to remember a time when the island was a place where diversity could thrive.
To remember a time long forgotten by those with the power to restore the beauty of before.
Minutes pass. It’s as simple as that. They don’t feel longer or shorter than they should. There’s no dragging on if time, or feeling like it goes faster than it actually was. It’s not complicated. Minutes pass.
Earphones go back in, music gets unpaused, and the girl walks back along the shoreline. She kicks up sand as she wanders across the barren land. The rain is still cold and soaks her clothes through to her skin. She leaves, and the norm is restored.
A norm that should be so much brighter, that was so much brighter, but has been left to rot and decompose.
Light turned to dark. An eclipse of the moon crossing over the sun.
Casting murky reflections on the surface of the water.
#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.
Whispering Roots [492 words]
* This piece is based on Tōge Tunnel and a hypothetical, long-gone past.
Our tale starts, not entirely in Karakura, but slightly outside it. Or rather in the sort of limbo between surrounding areas and the strange, bustling town; Tōge Tunnel.
For the most part, Tōge Tunnel seemed unassuming and quite reflective of the nature of Karakura: graffiti lining the pale and tattered walls with empty spray cans littering the sidewalk. A simple blue sign adorned with the letters ‘Come Back Soon’ alongside the Japanese flag.
Currently acting as a small gang hangout spot, and before that an unassuming road; before that it was a dangerous, caved-in area, and before that it was again, unassuming. It has always, apart from those moments of danger, been a rather unassuming, quiet, unseen, invisible road. And there is a reason that bad things never stick around much.
Whispers of hauntings were not uncommon in Karakura. The stories of vengeful, or peaceful, spirits of lives lost across the city were ingrained deep in the minds of the citizens; new or old. Though not explicitly mentioned often, the murmurs of hospitalisations of those deemed important, those who went to the places they weren’t supposed to. The shack, the shrine, classroom 312.
Some were brave to communicate with the spirits. Some came out unharmed, happy to have talked with those who were king deceased. Others were not so lucky.
Such stories, those whispers heard, had never seemed to echo around Tōge Tunnel. Sure, there are ones in the surrounding area. These things are to be expected when dealing with the recently destroyed Saiky Estate. Who knows what mysteries hide in those ruins.
But wait… Amidst the foggy mist of the Saiky Estate and the old Zen Garden, is a faint chime.
Children’s laughter filled the mountainside. Dancing and frolicking around the long grass, being sure to avoid the steep cliff; the movements permeated the previous silence. Collecting flowers, or perhaps seeds. Maybe the simple experience of skipping through the flowers is enough. Careful, careful, careful.
Care only goes so far.
One slip, and life was to change forever. Death comes quick, painless. Yet the soul cannot move on. Full of vengeance and hatred, at life being torn away so soon, it stays by the cliff side, watching as it transforms with every passing moment. Watching as the cliff collapses with natural processes, how the first diggers crack through the fallen surface. How the tunnel changes with time and age.
When threatened, it acts. Out of impulse, revenge, or a sense of needing to protect and preserve? Nobody knows. What is known is that what would often be considered bad does not stay long.
Tōge Tunnel is unassuming. It is quiet. It is invisible.
In the centre of the road, between the vehicles parked, in the reflection of a wing mirror, there’s the chance to see a small girl. No older than ten, with a muddied kimono and the faintest, peaceful smile on her face.
Yet her eyes scream danger.
How odd.
Attachments
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