10:04 AM me: I need your braiiiins. For a WTTRP post

10:05 AM Fellsie: Ooooooh!

How can I halp.

10:06 AM me: help me think of an idea. What RP wisdom should I look for or try to impart

also, I’m totally using this chat session in the post.

Fellsie: Oshi.

RP wisdom, huh.

How about a post on picking up random RP?

10:07 AM me: that’s been done I think

Fellsie: How about one on trying to join established RP? Lots of folks seem to have trouble knowing how to either join a conversation in progress, or eavesdrop/audience without it being creepy.

10:08 AM me: yeah. That ‘s worth a revisit.

So what new insight is there?

Fellsie: What’s been covered so far?

10:11 AM me: communication, not stalkerish behavior. No brooding NPCs

how to talk to people in a bar

actually.

10:12 AM Fellsie: The latter was gonna be my suggestion.

—

That isn’t me, just a regular at one of my old Bars and a regular in the Pig and Whistle…

As a gentleman of a certain age, I can attest to the nuances and differences in Bars and Bar Culture. There are Sports Bars, Juice Bars, Coffee Shops, Dive Bars, Music Clubs, Wine Bars, Gastro Pubs and “Meat Markets,” each with their own rules, customs and specials. Navigating these social morays in the real world is, relatively speaking, easy. You go to the Bar, eat and drink, and eventually leave. Becoming a regular is significantly more trying. One does not become a regular just by going to the bar, the same day at the same time, for weeks at time. No, one has to learn the culture of the bar. Regulars differ by not just by style of bar, but also day and time of day.

For instance, when I was dating my wife and going to stay with her while she worked at a South Side Dive Bar, I didn’t become a regular because I was dating the bartender. As her shift started, it was the transition from the day drinkers to the evening crowd. I focused on the later. So I bided my time by talking music, mocking the north side and buying drinks of the evening crowd. When the bar changed hands a year later, I was a regular.

The rules for working with regulars in a drinking establishment are similar to breaking into an RP Circle. To help draw the parallel, let’s focus on the Pig And Whistle on Feathermoon. Tuesday Nights, most of the Wildfire Riders and Associate Friends come by for a drink, swap stories and catch each other up RP. These people are the regulars. It doesn’t matter if another group of RPers show up on any other day of the week: Tuesday night has been (and will probably continue to be) Wildfire Rider Night at the Pig.

These are the regulars who have set up the tone and the “rules” of the bar. In real life, if someone acts up in a bar, bar-backs and bouncers remove the problem. In an RP setting, people can be reported; however, the most likely scenario is the following: Problems will be /ignored.

By problems, I mean individuals who dance on tables, have their toons run in their underwear and actively try and ruin RP. In essence, they’re griefers. Most people who read WTTRP are not griefers. They actually want to join the RP. So how to join the RP?

Join their conversations: Don’t sit in the corner table and Brood. Standard dive bar culture: Avoid the brooding people, as they’re the ones who are going to throw the first punch.

Participate, don’t dominate: Regulars like to hang out with other regulars. While they’re not opposed to new people, they are also not there to talk to the new people. They are there to drink with their friends. If you butt in on conversations, try to dominate a conversation or draw attention to yourself by being a jerk, you’re going to be at best, politely ignored.

Buy the first round: When in doubt, bribe new friends with drinks. It goes a long way to establishing new relationships. If the circle you want to join isn’t in a bar, bring food. Bring Drinks. Even if it is buff food, it goes along way to transition from “interesting person” to “new circle member.”

Keep coming back: The more you frequent the same circle in their setting, the more you show you are willing to be a part of their circle.

Your stories and your ideas are just as important as the stories and ideas of the “regulars” you want to visit. To share your stories, however, you have to acknowledge the RP that occurred before you joined it. One cannot just walk into a bar and declare oneself a regular. Likewise with an RP Circle. You can’t walk in and declare yourself to be part of the group. You have to work at it and share with them, not RP at them.

“See that slick-ear squire?” Bricu nods to the blonde blood-elf in full plate with a two-handed sword strapped to her back. The hilt, a beautifully sculpted phoneix, is clearly visible.

“Her name is Dorri, an’ she’s the other wonky git in charge o’the Slick Ear guild, the Prophecy o’Light. What yer not afraid o’a Blood Elf… Then yer a bloody fool. I’ve seen that one take down blokes twice her size in a Rose Tourney. The only thing that kept the poor tosser alive was someone else sayin’ the fight’s o’er an’ her bloke shoutin’ fer her ta stand down. That was with a Tauren that they associate with from time ta time. They like him. Imagine what she’d do ta yeh, some pissant she doesn’t e’en recognize?

“Still don’t believe me? I saw her at the Battle fer the Undercity a while back. She an’ her bloke, Keltyr. They were on the front line, takin’ back what was stolen….an when his Highness, the Mighty Chin, ordered an attack, they lept up ta counter charge. They killed at least two folk ‘fore Jania stopped the madness. Two folk in the blink o’yer beady little eyes. Think the only reason why they didn’t go fer me wasn’t the Black n’Red, but the fact that I was holdin’ folk back from followin’ The Chin’s orders. At least, that’s the rumor I heard… So if yeh want to go get yer arse handed back ta yeh, go ahead. Pick the fight. I’m gonna stand here an’ take bets on her.”

–
Dorritow aka Corspilla aka Tarelyn is an old school feathermooninite who has, in person, laughed at me. Not with me, at me. She is a brilliant RPer, Raid Leader and a supportive friend.

Dear readers,

We’re not ignoring nor have we forgotten you. We’ve got other projects, books or Database classes to work through. This does not mean, of course, that RP has hit a slow down. On the contrary: Our RP Circle continues to grow and add new members on a regular basis.

This could turn into a discussion of how established guilds on old servers tend towards elitism or on how to approach a guild to join it. Instead, I’d prefer to invite everyone to talk about their circle.

For instance, RP night on FM is the greatest collection of RPers and characters around. The only exceptions are those characters who cannot be online at the same time. Each character has an identity and style that damn near sings with personality. It does not matter if theRP is about a story or justifying an up coming Raid, PVP or instance: The RP is thoughtful and designed to let us all interact. The people I associate with on RP night have helped my toon become my favorite character in my 15+ history of gaming.

So tell us about your circle. Whose in it? What stories are you telling? What stories have you told? What server are you on? Spread the love, talk up your peeps.

From Loreli at AoD

Arrens Caltrains is the Headmaster/Guildmaster of Stormwind University. He’s prim and proper, with a definite sense of what is proper. He’s certainly not stupid, but he is not quick on the uptake of slang or innuendo. This stems not from lack of travel or understanding, but a combination of his trusting nature and his rigid personal code of behavior. A code of behavior that he tries–but does not always succeed–at keeping personal.

While Arrens may never truly admit it, the best thing he ever did was wander into the Pig and Whistle. Granted, this has led to some of his darker moments: Being captured by SI7, losing out to Tarquin regarding a certain lady, losing his head of Security to the Black and Red and being the subject of some ribbing–mostly good natured–from the Bittertongues. However these interactions led him to the love of his life, Aelflaed Larsdottir. The two are planning on getting married in the Spring–barring the end of the world–and the event promises to be a social event for the entire city.

Currently, Arrens is expanding Stormwind University to include younger students. These new facilities, recently completed, are based in the Mage District of Stormwind, and provide housing for all students, including ones that cannot afford to pay the fees, lodging and tuition at the esteemed school. While Arrens did coerce a number of nobles and landed gentry to help fund the school properly, he has also accepted money from the Wildfire Riders to fund War Orphans and street children from Stormwind.

Even though Arthas is finally dead, Arrens still has a full plate. The next year, while more peaceful than previous years, will still challenge him. Hopefully, Arrens will be able to spend more time studying and teaching than defending the realm against terrible threats.

Have someone you would like to spotlight? Offer us a suggestion or write one up yourself! Each submission will get posted on WTTRP.

Art by Illithias

Every time I write something–RP, an evaluation, fic or a paper–I notice a pairing that, until that particular bit of writing, did not make sense. While writing, I create associations between two topics that may, or may not, be related. When it comes to RP relationships, the same holds true: Some pairings, while not obvious at first, make for great stories.

For instance, we have Bricu and Illithias: Two orphans from devastating wars. Since coming to that understanding, the two have developed a close relationship. Prior to that understanding, the insults and threats of violence were fast and furious.

Another pairing that does not appear obvious comes from the WTTRP Feathermoon circle: Fells and Laurus Drachmas. Fells is a country bumpkin from Elwynn. Laurus is a disgraced minor noble from Dalaran. Their interactions, however, create RP wherever they go.

What unusual pairings have you discovered in your RP or you attempts at Nano? Do you have an example of how this may work? Fill us in!

Hey you.

Do you like good books?  Do you like books in which there is ass-kicking, magic, hot elf chicks, evil wizards, bards, pissed-off dragons, and famous warriors?  Do you like laughing so hard people give you funny looks on public transportation?

Then you probably ought to go pick up Stuff of Legends by Ian Gibson.

Jordan the Red has done it all.  He’s slain dragons, rescued princesses, outsmarted minions and henchmen and evil overlords.  Now he just wants to live out the rest of his life in the village of Cheese, where nothing ever happens and people don’t know he used to be a famous hero.

Except, nothing ever goes as planned.  Jordan’s biggest fan, Eliott, gets a wishing braid for his birthday and does what any Number One Fan would do:  he wishes he could go on an adventure with his idol.  Jordan wants none of it, but his old agent would love for him to make a big ol’ comeback (which means scads and scads of money in his own pockets, of course) and Eliott’s the perfect pawn for making that happen.

Jordan finds himself picking up his old sword and acting as a reluctant mentor to Kess (Eliott’s hot Elvish babysitter) and a wannabe bard sent by Central Casting to tell the tale.

Stuff of Legends was a finalist in the 2009 Amazon Breakthrough Novel awards, and the author is one of Feathermoon’s own.

If you’re a fan of Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams, hie thee to your local independent bookstore (or their website!) and pick up a copy of Stuff of Legends. Then come back here, tell us how awesome it was, and join me in my chant of “Sequel!  Sequel!  Sequel!”

Fun seems to be an obvious point factor in creating successful RP, and yet, how many of us can point to an RP event where we experience anything BUT fun. For instance, the earliest RP event I remember attending on Feathermoon was a “psychic battle of wills.” Bricu was an audience member. I stood there, on the bridge over the lava pit in Blackrock mountain, wondering why the hell he surrounded himself with wonky gits. After a snide comment or two, Bricu walked out and got hammered somewhere. The event itself was NOT FUN.

Fun means 1) giving everyone a role to play or 2) giving guidelines on what you want a character to do. Audience member is not a role anyone wants to play. WoW has some beautiful cut-scenes; however, these are devices to inform our characters of what is going on. We are not, typically, involved in them. Do not treat your RP as witnesses to your characters ABV. Give everyone a chance to shine in some way, shape or form.

Keep in mind that even an epic failure is a method to shine.

Balance means mixing the proper proportions of events, styles and methods of RP. For instance, not everyone likes forum or fic based RP. Likewise, not every event can be told in the game client. Epic mounted calvary battles are not going to happen in Wow. During an event, the organizers have to strike the proper balance of methods to keep the story going. Balance means more than getting the right amount of fics posted and in game events together. Balance also means getting the right amount of humor, drama and action together.

Bricu, for example, tends less towards “zany, crazy hijinks!” and more towards, “I will punch you in the face and laugh.” while I know that he is skewed, I have tried to strike more of a balance with him by including his pet collection, his adoration of his daughter, and the willingness to play the role of a straight-man in some RP situations. Striking this balance is not easy, especially when we consider the differences in RP styles, but it is something we should strive for.

Balanced characters (properly defined as well-rounded characters, I believe) do not make an inherently balanced story line. This takes work. When writing up plot outlines, or figuring out what roles people will take in the story, keep in mind that you should look to build, and release, tension at dramatically appropriate points. Too much melancholy and people will NEED a “Wacky Hijinks Story” to stay motivated. Too much fighting in a story and you lose the political and social elements that attract a fair amount of RPers. Too much “Zany” and you lose to people who want to work on a more serious story.

Communication, Fun and Balance. These are the factors that, in my opinion, make RP great. My opinion should not be the end all, be all, of RP. What are the factors that you like to consider when designing RP? Do you have other, better, examples of Communication, fun and balance? Do you think I’m full of it? Let us know?

This post went up too quick. Expect edits throughout the day.

Loreli, from Angel of Death Studios, isn’t a Wildfire Rider.  She’s the head of Security for Arrens’ Stormwind University. While relatively new to our circle on Feathermoon, Lore isn’t a rookie when it comes to RP.  She’s held her own against bastards, con men, ghosts and crazy people.   In Real Life, Lore is also a hell of an artist, writer and a fantastic person to collaborate with.  Today, she’s filling in for me.  I asked her to shine some light on what its like to join a new RP circle.  She’s got pretty interesting insights.

Before coming to World of Warcraft, I played an IRC based RPG for five years. To say I’m not new to role-playing I think, by this point, is an understatement. They say the only constant in life is change. Inevitable, things will happen. People move on to other ventures. Real life intervenes. Before you know it, the group that you’ve been role-playing with, sharing stories for months, or even years, is in shambles. It’s sad, it’s definitely difficult but it can’t be avoided.

You could lament the loss of your RP buddies, and I did, for quite some time. You could banish your RP muse to the depths of your subconcious, but if it’s anything like mine, they’ll find a way to come back and you’ll feel the call of the story-teller.

So what do you do?

Changing RP groups is a bit like moving to a new town, going to a new school. You’re the new kid, you want to be noticed, you want to make a good impression. I’ve found that role-playing in World of Warcraft is even harder to break into than what I was used to. With a dice-based RPG like you’ll find on IRC or Dungeons & Dragons, you’re there to role-play. That’s the whole point. With WoW you’re not required to role-play. You can spend all your time running quests, raiding, or trying to be a PvP guru. It’s entirely plausible to have been playing WoW since beta and have never seen role-play happen, even on an RP server. The point I’m getting at here, is even as a practiced role-player it’s hard to find role-play going on, let alone break into it.

I’m sure we all know piping up in Trade or General chat going “looking for RP” is only going to bring griefers or land us in the middle of an ERP session in Goldshire or Silvermoon City. We also know that that sort of thing makes people wonder what sort of RPer we are and the assumption is generally a negative one.

I owe a bit of my success on Feathermoon to luck. I’m more than willing to admit that. I also owe it to the amazing people I’ve met there and the guild I joined.

However, what seems to be a constant is this: be willing to start small. Even if you only connect with one person at first, that’s better off than you were before. Be willing to be a part of the story, not try and jump into your own too quickly. We all have a story to tell, we all want our characters to be interesting. While your tale may be super epic and amazing, if you take some time and watch, get a feel for what plots are already in motion, you might find something you hadn’t considered before. There may be a way to tie yourself into a much larger story, exposing you to a much larger group of people. Before you know it you’re almost overwhemled and buried in more role-play than you can keep track of.

My name is Delion, and I make this magic carpet look fabulous.

Here, Delion of the Wildfire Riders shows off his Magic Carpet. Delion is a priest of Elune; however, his real calling is tailoring. In fact, one might consider Delion to be Feathermoon’s Tim Gunn. Delion owns the Finest Thread, in Stormwind, and he has the reputation for being one of the Kingdom’s most brilliant designers.

If you are lucky enough to have a character like Del in your RP group–one that knows their class and RPs brilliantly–then you know how wonderful it can be to RP with someone who has character goals that go beyond the classics tropes (vengeance, money, power, grudges). Every character, while not as awesome as Delion, can develop traits, skills and quirks that go beyond the stereotypical “Bad Ass Adventurer.”

Trade skills are a perfect way to develop these traits. For instance, Bricu became a jewelcrafter, not to make magical trinkets, but to make an engagement ring for Threnn. Ilarra Stormrunner maxed out her First Aid and has been known to describe herself as a Doctor (although, to be fair, she could also just be a bit touched). Aelflaed, in addition to being a combat medic, has now inherited a farm (one that she plans on using). Yva Darrows is a fantastic baker (just eat the fudge she made).

How do you incorporate your trade and secondary skills into your RP? Is your character famous for anything that she, or he, makes?

This weeks Wrathgate Wednesday showcase the initial attack at Wrathgate. This is the moment where we think “wow, this might actually work.”

We begin this phase, like all the previous phases, with an italics post. Threnn and Linedan round out the italics post with first hand accounts of those first moments.
–
The horns sundered the morning again, echoing off the teeth of Angrathar and reverberating into brassy confusion. Hooves churned the hard-packed snow, feet marched in unison. The golden arcs of protective wards and uncanny crackle of prepared magical assaults shimmered here and there in the ranks. Under the Lion of Stormwind, crying out for Lordaeron and Menethil and all that had been lost, the golden soldiers of the Alliance charged.

In the sudden silence in the wake of the explosions, the Riders heard Bittertongue’s voice. “Fuckin’ aright, now do it again!”

–

The Wildfire Riders – Threnn by *JRinaldi on deviantART

Maiden

“Wait.” Anna placed a hand on Fin’s shoulder and eyed the woman in the snow. “The hell are you doing here?”

The priestess didn’t answer. “Let’s go.”

It was a good spot to mount a defense. Of course it was — the veterans among them had scouted it out beforehand and laid out the battleplans. Anna pulled the shadows closer, waiting for the dead things to come in range. They felt different here, on the edge of battle. Eager. She wondered how much of it was her own nerves, how much was the strange pull that she always felt in Icecrown, and how much was due to whatever was going on in the tent at the top of the hill.

It didn’t matter. The Scourge were coming, and the shadows would do her bidding.

At her side, the dead girl cackled and adjusted her hat.

Mother

In her mind, Threnn ticked off the list of supplies back in the healing tent: bandages, pallets, blankets, herbs and salves. Water, whiskey, clean steel and braziers, should anyone suffer wounds grievous enough to need cauterization. Light send no one will. Light send I won’t need to use so much as a bandage. Light send we won’t even have to carry one person into that tent when this is over.

Light send I won’t have to pull the blankets up to cover the faces of my family.

They were futile prayers, truly, but praying kept her from pacing. The last thing they’d need was for her to go into labor while there was a battle going on. She counted heads, too, noting as many positions as she could.

The horns sounded again, and the nightmare-things came into sight. Naiara kicked hard enough to elicit a gasp. “I know, baby girl,” she whispered, placing a steel-gauntleted palm on her plate-covered belly. “I know.”

Then Ulthanon was shouting, and Bricu’s voice cut into the wind — not her husband’s voice, but her sergeant’s. The ache in her back that was near-constant these days faded as she pulled herself to attention and called the Light into her hands.

Her daughter shifted inside her once more, then subsided.

Crone

Magic filled the air. With every breath, she pulled it into her lungs, felt it suffuse through her body until it sang in her very bones. She felt as though she should be shaking with it, but her hands were steady as she drew another rune in silver ink.

So much power here, so tempting to let it just flow over her, to wade into the lines and let it carry her away on its currents. She was brimming with it, the words coming to her lips faster and faster as the runes began to glow.

When I was a girl, we danced around the poles at Midsummer until we were too dizzy t’stand. I feel like I’m in mid-whirl, now, an’ any minute I’ll go spinnin’ off, the world tiltin’ up t’catch me, the sky wheelin’ above.

No. Control it. Take it.

Magic required a will of iron. Weak-minded mages never made it very far — the lucky ones were weeded out by their teachers before they could do lasting harm. The unlucky ones were sometimes found dead, sometimes found drooling.

Davien Stonemantle had never been weak. She pulled in another breath, set down another rune.
–

Totally stolen from http://panzercow.wordpress.com/

They came.

The dead, and half-dead, and not-quite-dead, and thrice-dead. Ghouls and geists to the front, skeletons of various races mixed in, the grub-white of abominations lumbering at the rear. Not exactly an army’s worth, but at least a few for each of the Riders and friends arrayed across the pass. Enough for a probe, when you were the Lich King and had a near-infinite supply of fodder.

Beltar watched, seemingly unconcerned, from behind his rock, and waited. To all outward appearances, he was no different than at any other time. Hair windblown and skin windburnt, face craggy as the mountains that surrounded them, eyes a bit squinted, armor a tad dissheveled and not quite polished. Just a dwarf past his prime, playing at being a hero, somehow managing to make his fine collection of dragonhide and saronite mail look less than it really was.

Appearances were deceiving. Beltar Forgebreaker, unimpressive-looking as he was, was a Light-damned professional, and he wasn’t shy about telling anyone who’d listen, whether they believed him or not. Today, he’d prove it.

He brought the Nesingwary 4000 up smoothly and gently balanced it on a bit of rock, sighting in on the approaching mass. They were picking up speed now, rolling downhill like a boulderslide, on a course that would crash them right into the Riders’ line across the pass, and give him and Ulthanon beautiful firing lanes into their flanks. The bolt went forward and back for the first time, loading a Mammoth Cutter into the chamber.

He waited. And waited. Then Bricu’s voice roared from behind the line, and the pass erupted.

Trigger. Bolt.

His first shot picked off a geist in mid-gallop, flinging it backward into the snow and allowing its fellow undead to finish the job Beltar started, by trampling it to death.

Whistle. Target. Trigger. Bolt. Trigger. Bolt.

Longpaw erupted from beside him in a cloud of snow, took two graceful bounds, and leapt, a silver-spotted blur, to land fifteen yards downhill on the back of a ghoul and bear it to the ground. It stood back up, shrugging the cat off, in time for two nearly-simultaneous shots to explode its head and send it right back down.

Target. Sight. Fan the trigger. Bolt. Trigger. Bolt. New target.

The cat began to tear at a geist as Beltar focused in again and kept up a steady drumbeat of fire, reports booming off the rock walls. Calloused, knobby hands moved like the finest gnomish clockwork, from trigger to bolt to trigger again, fast and smooth. There was no thought, just reflex honed by a lifetime of practice. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. He and the rifle were one. He didn’t wield the weapon, he was the weapon. He may as well have been just pointing his own hand as the undead fell shredded under a withering hail of fire from front and flank. There was no rage, no anger, no screaming; there was, indeed, no noise from Beltar at all except for the sounds of his rifle, the snick-clunk of the bolt and the deafening bang of the firing.

For however long he could keep it up, Beltar Forgebreaker was, once again, the cold, emotionless killer he’d always claimed to be.

It was glorious.