IGN:
simonblackquill
List your discord name and tag (name#0000):
cynicism#0468
Additionally, do you have a microphone and can speak via discord?:
Yep! I'm on the shyer side, so I prefer to stay muted when I can. You'll hear me crystal clear when it's necessary.
Your time zone and current country of residence:
I'm in Central Time Zone (UTC-6:00) and I'm from the United States.
Link any previous community team applications if applicable:
Fresh applicant! This is my first time.
Do you recognize you could be removed from the community team?
Sure thing.
List a few things that may obstruct your progress/development on the Lore Team.
Conflict with my schoolwork is what I fear most. I'm a senior in high school, meaning that college is looming over my head menacingly, and a lot of my free-time has been spent moping about the loss of my childhood. To make matters worse, next semester I'll be in not one, not two, not four, but three writing classes - simultaneously! I consider myself hardy and prepared for the workload, but writing so much will either make me some sort of Shakespearean wizard or I'll face the bitter bite of burnout. That hurdle's still on the horizon, so we'll see which route I take when I get there.
What makes you passionate about writing?:
I've already brushed over a subtle mention of shyness. In retrospect, my meek nature has had a monumental impact on many aspects of my character. The allure of writing is finally being granted the ability to communicate; for the words that flow from my fingers are without the dreadful blemishes of stuttering, blessed by the open option of revision. When I sit at my desk, fingers flying across my keyboard like a preprogrammed machine, the thoughts trapped in my head throughout the day face the liberating burden of their birth. You get the picture -- I'm a shy kid who lacks the voice to say any of the thoughts I have. Writing is cathartic, the self-expression that I crave to keep my conscience clear.
Do you have any previous experience with writing lore or creative writing as a general aspect?:
You're listening to the (former) vice president of my high school's Creative Writing Club. I've been the host of a long list of private roleplays of which I took the independent responsibility of world-building, toiling months' worth of tireless brain-rotting. Creative writing has been a part of me since I was a young child, and I consider myself well-versed in both conceiving and executing ideas for lore and writing as a whole.
In your own words, give your definition of lore:
Lore is the bread and butter of creative media. Could you have a storyline without it? Sure, but it's going to be bland! The substance of a story lies in the exploration and expansion of characters and the world around them, which is the embodiment of what lore is. It takes a glimpse past the primary plotline to peek into who the people present really are, the ways their world has shaped them, as well as the history and functions of the universe they occupy.
WRITING PROMPTS:
RULES
#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). Be sure to follow the above guidelines.
With the summer season growing hotter by the day, Japan's wishy weather was an open invitation for the irresponsible recklessness intertwined with teenage years. The social chameleons of Karakura High had no issue taking full advantage of their freedoms, leaping from party to party in a hedonistic blaze of charisma. The inept amongst their crowd fell as far less than fortunate, most crazed with desperation, struggling to grasp for some type of entry to a world they could only catch glimpses into. Those things just didn't happen, though - outsiders didn't become insiders. Though their view of high-school was tainted with the roses of romanticization, those parties were invite-only, and there was a bar to meet to scrounge for a chance. Losers don't abruptly get in with the cool kids.
At least, that was what Andrew thought, until one of his few friends introduced him to Kenta Dai.
The results were immediate. It was as if he'd been pulled from the shadows of obscurity into the limelight of acceptance. Over the month marking the beginning of their blossoming relationship, he met more people than he'd ever spoken with in his preceding high-school years combined. He and Kenta became twin flames, even through the extremity of their intimacy driving Andrew's best friend to reclusion. The boy had turned a blind eye to his absence, basking in the warm glory of the attention he'd so desperately craved. Though their mutual affections began innocently, Andrew's absentee wasn't the only one green with envy over their relationship. Startlingly, however, the one brooding with Kenta's disregard was his sworn sister, Nevaeh. A girl typically thought to be ditzy and absent-minded, neither could’ve anticipated what her quiet unrest drove her to do.
He'd entered school that morning with his brain buzzing with the usual trivial nothings of a socially awkward teenager. He was accustomed to arbitrary bullying, so the overzealous stranger of a jock that smashed a raw egg onto the crown of his head initially struck as little more than an uncomfortable inconvenience. In the immediate moments following the petty act, however, he noticed a conspicuous detail. Had Nevaeh … giggled?
The thought was shook while he moped his way to the bathroom, face flush against porcelain as he scrubbed the nauseating traces of yolky ooze from his scalp. There was no reason for her to have been laughing at him – perhaps she’d been speaking with someone else, snickering at a particularly funny quip from one of her incessantly girly friends. He chased the cacophonous discord of overthinking from his mind. Logically, he acknowledged there was little purpose in dwelling on such a trifle, yet a sinking dread settled heavily in his chest as he ventured back out into the halls.
Low and behold, he found himself toe to toe with Nevaeh. Yet this time, she was alone, and lacking her typical, aloof little smile. In its place rested a scowling leer, an expression so saturated in malevolence Andrew could swear that a demon had taken her place, even before she parted her lips to speak. When her words finally came, his certainty was heightened.
“You look so sad. What, did it hurt your little feelings?”
Her tone was tantalizing, like he was a toddler trembling with tears over spilled milk. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, meeting her with a confused blink.
“Listen up!” came her shrill tone, frustrated by his lack of reaction, skulking towards him like a predatory animal. “This is just the start.”
“... What?”
He felt pathetic. The word was all he could sputter, and he feared that attempting to say anything more would only produce a remix of repeated syllables, so he clamped his mouth shut in anticipation of whatever punishment she planned to unleash upon him.
“I’m not going to rest until I make your life a living hell,” Despite the dire nature of her words, his attention was snared by the twin pair of masked students emerging from the depths of the stairwell. Every nerve in his body was screaming that he should turn tail, yet his feet were cemented into the floorboards. Throat choked with the panic of danger, the sharp venom of her voice yanked him back to the present. “You dare tell anyone, and it’ll only get worse. Before you babble, there is no reason. It’s simply because I hate you. You’re nothing but a disgusting freak, and you’ve let these people pretending to like you get to your head.”
The masked students were circling him like vultures, but his useless legs still refused to move. A tension thick enough to slice hung in the air as they honed in on their prey, which remained still as a grave in the horrifying moments before the beating of a lifetime.
(795 words)
#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.
In the twilight hours following the wrath of a tycoon, one mustn’t find themselves lingering on the slick surface of Karakura’s pier. Come daybreak, the misty horizon is obscured by a rolling fog that blankets the sea’s anger, billowing wings of peace spread out across the pale sands, veiling the pain of the night passed.
The serenity is a beguiling mirage. Tailing the tempest in tenacious pursuit, the murky haze carries a deadly vengeance in the name of those who were swallowed by the storm. Moments after the sharp rays of dawn slice the air, the fishermen routinely bear silent witness to the fog’s hungry sweep across the waterfront, keeping their cautious distance from that deadly path stretching to the heart of the ocean’s rage. Keen eyes babble crazed tales of their visions of pale hands outstretched from the depths of the brume, reaching desperately for an anchor to the living world, a chorus of haunted whispers in harmonious synchrony. The balmy palms of the earth are a grounded solace in the ocean’s opposition, embracing the trembling legs of its people, if only the spirits passed could escape the stony face of the fog, confined by a violent halt at the pier’s end. As the potent presence of the storm echoes away, with it dissipates the sea fret, leaving the waves to lick at the shore, foamy tongue in a longing state of mourning. The air becomes heavy with humid solemnity. The sea waits in ambush for one foolish enough to disregard the time-old tales of peril.
(257 words)
simonblackquill
List your discord name and tag (name#0000):
cynicism#0468
Additionally, do you have a microphone and can speak via discord?:
Yep! I'm on the shyer side, so I prefer to stay muted when I can. You'll hear me crystal clear when it's necessary.
Your time zone and current country of residence:
I'm in Central Time Zone (UTC-6:00) and I'm from the United States.
Link any previous community team applications if applicable:
Fresh applicant! This is my first time.
Do you recognize you could be removed from the community team?
Sure thing.
List a few things that may obstruct your progress/development on the Lore Team.
Conflict with my schoolwork is what I fear most. I'm a senior in high school, meaning that college is looming over my head menacingly, and a lot of my free-time has been spent moping about the loss of my childhood. To make matters worse, next semester I'll be in not one, not two, not four, but three writing classes - simultaneously! I consider myself hardy and prepared for the workload, but writing so much will either make me some sort of Shakespearean wizard or I'll face the bitter bite of burnout. That hurdle's still on the horizon, so we'll see which route I take when I get there.
What makes you passionate about writing?:
I've already brushed over a subtle mention of shyness. In retrospect, my meek nature has had a monumental impact on many aspects of my character. The allure of writing is finally being granted the ability to communicate; for the words that flow from my fingers are without the dreadful blemishes of stuttering, blessed by the open option of revision. When I sit at my desk, fingers flying across my keyboard like a preprogrammed machine, the thoughts trapped in my head throughout the day face the liberating burden of their birth. You get the picture -- I'm a shy kid who lacks the voice to say any of the thoughts I have. Writing is cathartic, the self-expression that I crave to keep my conscience clear.
Do you have any previous experience with writing lore or creative writing as a general aspect?:
You're listening to the (former) vice president of my high school's Creative Writing Club. I've been the host of a long list of private roleplays of which I took the independent responsibility of world-building, toiling months' worth of tireless brain-rotting. Creative writing has been a part of me since I was a young child, and I consider myself well-versed in both conceiving and executing ideas for lore and writing as a whole.
In your own words, give your definition of lore:
Lore is the bread and butter of creative media. Could you have a storyline without it? Sure, but it's going to be bland! The substance of a story lies in the exploration and expansion of characters and the world around them, which is the embodiment of what lore is. It takes a glimpse past the primary plotline to peek into who the people present really are, the ways their world has shaped them, as well as the history and functions of the universe they occupy.
WRITING PROMPTS:
RULES
- You are expected to write in the third person, and narrate in a reliable and neutral tone. Do not focus your prompts specifically on one character’s perspective, but on a bigger picture.
- There is a 200-800 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.
#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). Be sure to follow the above guidelines.
With the summer season growing hotter by the day, Japan's wishy weather was an open invitation for the irresponsible recklessness intertwined with teenage years. The social chameleons of Karakura High had no issue taking full advantage of their freedoms, leaping from party to party in a hedonistic blaze of charisma. The inept amongst their crowd fell as far less than fortunate, most crazed with desperation, struggling to grasp for some type of entry to a world they could only catch glimpses into. Those things just didn't happen, though - outsiders didn't become insiders. Though their view of high-school was tainted with the roses of romanticization, those parties were invite-only, and there was a bar to meet to scrounge for a chance. Losers don't abruptly get in with the cool kids.
At least, that was what Andrew thought, until one of his few friends introduced him to Kenta Dai.
The results were immediate. It was as if he'd been pulled from the shadows of obscurity into the limelight of acceptance. Over the month marking the beginning of their blossoming relationship, he met more people than he'd ever spoken with in his preceding high-school years combined. He and Kenta became twin flames, even through the extremity of their intimacy driving Andrew's best friend to reclusion. The boy had turned a blind eye to his absence, basking in the warm glory of the attention he'd so desperately craved. Though their mutual affections began innocently, Andrew's absentee wasn't the only one green with envy over their relationship. Startlingly, however, the one brooding with Kenta's disregard was his sworn sister, Nevaeh. A girl typically thought to be ditzy and absent-minded, neither could’ve anticipated what her quiet unrest drove her to do.
He'd entered school that morning with his brain buzzing with the usual trivial nothings of a socially awkward teenager. He was accustomed to arbitrary bullying, so the overzealous stranger of a jock that smashed a raw egg onto the crown of his head initially struck as little more than an uncomfortable inconvenience. In the immediate moments following the petty act, however, he noticed a conspicuous detail. Had Nevaeh … giggled?
The thought was shook while he moped his way to the bathroom, face flush against porcelain as he scrubbed the nauseating traces of yolky ooze from his scalp. There was no reason for her to have been laughing at him – perhaps she’d been speaking with someone else, snickering at a particularly funny quip from one of her incessantly girly friends. He chased the cacophonous discord of overthinking from his mind. Logically, he acknowledged there was little purpose in dwelling on such a trifle, yet a sinking dread settled heavily in his chest as he ventured back out into the halls.
Low and behold, he found himself toe to toe with Nevaeh. Yet this time, she was alone, and lacking her typical, aloof little smile. In its place rested a scowling leer, an expression so saturated in malevolence Andrew could swear that a demon had taken her place, even before she parted her lips to speak. When her words finally came, his certainty was heightened.
“You look so sad. What, did it hurt your little feelings?”
Her tone was tantalizing, like he was a toddler trembling with tears over spilled milk. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, meeting her with a confused blink.
“Listen up!” came her shrill tone, frustrated by his lack of reaction, skulking towards him like a predatory animal. “This is just the start.”
“... What?”
He felt pathetic. The word was all he could sputter, and he feared that attempting to say anything more would only produce a remix of repeated syllables, so he clamped his mouth shut in anticipation of whatever punishment she planned to unleash upon him.
“I’m not going to rest until I make your life a living hell,” Despite the dire nature of her words, his attention was snared by the twin pair of masked students emerging from the depths of the stairwell. Every nerve in his body was screaming that he should turn tail, yet his feet were cemented into the floorboards. Throat choked with the panic of danger, the sharp venom of her voice yanked him back to the present. “You dare tell anyone, and it’ll only get worse. Before you babble, there is no reason. It’s simply because I hate you. You’re nothing but a disgusting freak, and you’ve let these people pretending to like you get to your head.”
The masked students were circling him like vultures, but his useless legs still refused to move. A tension thick enough to slice hung in the air as they honed in on their prey, which remained still as a grave in the horrifying moments before the beating of a lifetime.
(795 words)
#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.
In the twilight hours following the wrath of a tycoon, one mustn’t find themselves lingering on the slick surface of Karakura’s pier. Come daybreak, the misty horizon is obscured by a rolling fog that blankets the sea’s anger, billowing wings of peace spread out across the pale sands, veiling the pain of the night passed.
The serenity is a beguiling mirage. Tailing the tempest in tenacious pursuit, the murky haze carries a deadly vengeance in the name of those who were swallowed by the storm. Moments after the sharp rays of dawn slice the air, the fishermen routinely bear silent witness to the fog’s hungry sweep across the waterfront, keeping their cautious distance from that deadly path stretching to the heart of the ocean’s rage. Keen eyes babble crazed tales of their visions of pale hands outstretched from the depths of the brume, reaching desperately for an anchor to the living world, a chorus of haunted whispers in harmonious synchrony. The balmy palms of the earth are a grounded solace in the ocean’s opposition, embracing the trembling legs of its people, if only the spirits passed could escape the stony face of the fog, confined by a violent halt at the pier’s end. As the potent presence of the storm echoes away, with it dissipates the sea fret, leaving the waves to lick at the shore, foamy tongue in a longing state of mourning. The air becomes heavy with humid solemnity. The sea waits in ambush for one foolish enough to disregard the time-old tales of peril.
(257 words)
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