In your edited rule page, what does meta-game mean? I never actually heard of it before. -mun
meta-gaming is sometimes called info-modding. It’s used to describe a situation in which a mun applies their OOC knowledge to their muse, when in context of the thread the muse shouldn’t know that kind of information or hasn’t had the chance to learn it.
Like, say, if you took a Kill la Kill muse into a thread with a Drakengard 3 muse, and made them aware of Zero’s true intentions despite the fact they shouldn’t know anything, but let your muse know that kind of thing just because you as the mun had played the game, that would be meta-gaming.
Another example would be reading a thread someone has going with someone else, and then RPing with them and then making your muse aware of what was going on in the other thread even though it had nothing to do with them.
Generally muses within the same canon don’t have to worry about meta-gaming so long as both muns are on the same page about the thread. It’s more a problem with crossover threads that aren’t established AUs and the like. (ie. it’s reasonable for a Drakengard character to know about the Intoners. it is NOT reasonable for a Dangan Rompa character to know about the Intoners right off the bat)
It’s 3:40AM so I really hope that made sense. If not I can try to explain when I’m more awake. Thanks for asking! ヽ(´ ▽ ` )ﾉ *:・ﾟ✧
✄—Cσя Aυт Mσяѕ || desidiae
He could only assume her comment was meant for praise. The tone of it was completely uncaring. Not that he would ever fish for praise or a ‘atta boy’, he didn’t need it. His work and his actions spoke for themselves. If he were to grovel for a pat on the head how could he call himself a man?
To beg was weak. To pester for attention was lowly. Any man who thought he could get by in life on how others boasted him should be knocked out of their senses. To abuse one’s power to claim a higher spot was deplorable.
Tch, sounds like the Old Man.
The Marquis stepped aside as he was told. Merely backing away then moving to the side for her to pass. In retrospect he probably should not have blocked her when making his report. His eyes cast down as she passed, only getting a glimpse of her violet locks as her hair fluttered when she walked. He waited for her to walk some paces, assuming she would continue on her way, before turning to close the door to Octa’s office.
When the clicking of her heels on the wooden floor stopped he paused instantly. Clutching the door handle unsure as to why when it was apparent she was done with the conversation. Fairly unwilling to turn around to face her, he waited a bit more.
Her questioned caused his head to tilt in curiosity. Surely all this time she would have known at least his name. He was the highest ranking officer in the Land of Forests after all, is rank started to climb with Caerula to Shaxor- and finally Octa bestowing him the title of ‘Marquis’.
Before he did anything, he finished closing the door to Octa’s office. A polite gesture the old coot didn’t deserve. He crossed his arms across his chest and kept his back to her as he spoke.
”Xiahou Dun.” It was then he turned to look over his shoulder, only seeing the back of her small frame as she stood awaiting his answer.
”Xiahou is my surname, first name Dun.”
His surname came before his given?
Three had read about cultures that used such ordering in regards to their names. Cultures of countries that existed before The Great Disaster a century ago. Long gone by now, surely. It certainly wouldn’t be unheard of that its people lived on in Midgard, of course. But all the same.
”You are of Eastern descent…”
Her tonality was almost thoughtful. Armored, slender fingers reached into a pouch fastened on her thigh to wrap around the rings of her scissors, pulling them from their casing. Seemingly too tired to lift her hand, she merely diverted her gaze downwards to observe as the blades move in time with her fingers.
”Interesting. I will make note.”
And off she began to wander once more.
”Do have a good evening, General…”
Days later found the lackadaisical songstress lounging in her bedroom, laying on her back atop the mattress of her bed and a plush doll held up above her. Octa had reportedly finished any workload there was to be had earlier in the morning, leaving Three to her own devices. He often would try to ‘vary her interests’ and insist - or nag, even - that she pursue other hobbies beyond her dolls. He was yet to do that thus far today, and the Intoner wasn’t going to complain.
Before long she felt herself nodding off, only to be abruptly snapped from her approaching nap by the familiar echo of her disciple’s voice:
I’d like to thank you all for meeting here…”
The enhanced senses of an Intoner were something of an inconvenience at times such as these - making her hearing things that held no meaning or interest to her. But of course, Three’s Shrine was a massive, hollowed tree. Echos were inevitable, heightened senses or not.
She could only assume Octa had gathered a number of troops in the large clearance at the bottom of the spiraling ramp. It was the only place within this shrine that was large and empty enough that Octa’s voice could reverberate to her personal quarters.
The problem here, however,
was that Three was not made privy to this “meeting” of which he spoke.
With a sigh of exasperation she set the doll aside, pushing herself off her bed and into a poorly-postured stand. It was only natural that she couldn’t help but wonder what her apostle had to say that was so important, that he would leave his Intoner out of the loop.
After all, she was the Intoner of Curiosity.
"Did you know oreo cookies are the best selling cookies in the world……you think your cookies can compete? Oh!…btw I read your rules page. May, I get a cookie?……pleaseeeeeee!!"
”…I suppose…I did say that.”
”…and I think your trivia may actually be correct for once. But Oreos do not look like my dolls…so there is no competition.”
/casually passes cookie
rewrote my rules page. if you read it I’d appreciate and give you a cookie. armisael-shaped cookies
✄—Cσя Aυт Mσяѕ || desidiae
A chill ran down his spine as she looked at him. It was odd, her stare. Its like she was looking at him as if he were a ghost: his presence was there but see-through. He quickly swallowed down his nervousness as he stood, her permission to speak was the cue for him to stand.
The number of times he had been alone with the Intoner he could easily count on one hand. However it was usually in passing or she would enter the room as he left. But now as she stood before him it was interesting how someone so petite and frail looking was the ‘Goddess of Song’ he swore a fealty oath to. Gods and Goddesses were something to be feared and revered, but this small woman did not fit the image of that namesake.
This was no time to gawk, he had a report to make and he would do so. He straightened his back and kept his arms at his sides. Once he got done with this he could easily see to his men and be done for the day.
”My men and I have returned from Fort Saoidh. The outbreak of undead has been quelled as commanded by Lord Octa.”
His eyes drifted to the side for a moment, as if thinking of something else to say before he stepped away. It seems like such an empty report, there were no causalities on his armies part and they got there in time before the village suffered as well. The whole act felt like a waste of time, this was the filthy old man’s job to tend to. Listen to the report, note that the task was done and drown out the ramblings he had before being allowed his leave. From what it seemed, the Lady seemed as impressed with the elder as he was.
”There was little damage to the village and its people, and minimal injuries to my men. I hope you are pleased with the results.”
That was right.
This man was a General, she could vaguely recall, and usually reported to Octa. And he had just stormed out and was surely not one to be addressed for a short while. The officer was cutting out the fuming middle-man and reporting directly to her.
”If I recall…Octa issued that order just the other day.
You’re quite efficient…”
Praise, or observation?
”…please step aside.”
Worded like a request but spoken monotonously and without inflection. The General seemed to have said what he wanted to say, and his report had registered in Three’s tired mind. It was about time to call it a night.
Violet eyes lazily traced the frame of the doorway as she waited for him to do as she asked. Upon the clearing of the entrance, the echo of the heel of her boots clapping against the wooden floor was all that broke the silence as she resumed going along her way — as if she had never paused to listen to the man that had been impeding her. Once again, the clapping came to a stop - this time a number of meters from where she had been standing.
She had one final question,
one she would raise without turning to look at him.
“…—Your name. What is it?”
"your dolls are forming a cult, in a purple room…..just a thought……"
"…that’s a worrisome thought."
idk I just imagine that there's this circle of purple prosers
and this circle of purple prosers just
sit in a purple room with purple carpeting and purple walls and purple ceiling
writing in purple ink with a purple quill in a book with purple pages and purple binding and a purple cover
my hair is purple and I'm not as purple as that room