GREETINGS!
My name is Tamaki Sempai. You all might be wondering what the heck this is all about, but as a Literate guild, Ithought it would be a wonderous idea to add our own training Role Play to help the members gain knowledge in the ways of Literacy. So! I would like to formally welcome you to Boot Camp: The Training RP! But there are certainly things you should know about Literacy, and all its glory. Some questions you may have might include:
Tamaki-Sempai? What does it mean to be Literate?
Literate, as defined by the American Heritage Dictionary means:
1. Able to read and write.
2. Knowledgeable or educated in a particular field or fields.
3. Familiar with literature; literary.
4. Well-written; polished.
For most of its long history in English, literate has meant only "familiar with literature," or more generally, "well-educated, learned." Only since the late 19th century has it also come to refer to the basic ability to read and write. Its antonym illiterate has an equally broad range of meanings: an illiterate person may be incapable of reading a shopping list or unable to grasp an allusion to Shakespeare or Keats. The term functional illiterate is often used to describe a person who can read or write to some degree, but below a minimum level required to function in even a limited social situation or job setting. An aliterate person, by contrast, is one who is capable of reading and writing but who has little interest in doing so, whether out of indifference to learning in general or from a preference for seeking information and entertainment by other means.·More recently, the meanings of the words literacy and illiteracy have been extended from their original connection with reading and literature to any body of knowledge. For example, "geographic illiterates" cannot identify the countries on a map, and "computer illiterates" are unable to use a word-processing system. All of these uses of literacy and illiteracy are acceptable.
Synonym would include:
Having an education: educated, enlightened, informed, lettered.
So, Tamaki-Sempai, if literacy means well written, what would you consider a "well written post"?
Well, Let me give you a few examples to show you different kinds of writting:
Piece Number 1
Ok, so you know a few basic words. Believe me, this is a sad excuse for a post. Reasons include spelling errors, incomplete sentences improper grammar, no description, and punctuation errors. If you are going to post something like this, don't. It wouldn't be even close to sufficiency for a Literate Role Play.
Piece Number 2
This one is decent, but a bit short. Again, there is very little description and the wording is a bit lean. Lets fix these two things, because a Literate Role Play generally required one or two decent paragraphs.
Piece Number 3
This is an excellent post. It has decent size, great grammar, punctuation and description. True, it has a few small mistakes, but we all make them sometime.
There you have it. But wait! There's more! If you are feeling rather complex, you can add and add and add until you have exhausted your fingers. Pictures can be placed in your posts, as well as fancy quotes and little things that help people get to know your character more. Description can be deep and
compete the story, like painting a picture of each scene. This is what is considered an "EPIC" post. Here is an example, and I look forward to helping you further.
My name is Tamaki Sempai. You all might be wondering what the heck this is all about, but as a Literate guild, Ithought it would be a wonderous idea to add our own training Role Play to help the members gain knowledge in the ways of Literacy. So! I would like to formally welcome you to Boot Camp: The Training RP! But there are certainly things you should know about Literacy, and all its glory. Some questions you may have might include:
Tamaki-Sempai? What does it mean to be Literate?
Literate, as defined by the American Heritage Dictionary means:
1. Able to read and write.
2. Knowledgeable or educated in a particular field or fields.
3. Familiar with literature; literary.
4. Well-written; polished.
For most of its long history in English, literate has meant only "familiar with literature," or more generally, "well-educated, learned." Only since the late 19th century has it also come to refer to the basic ability to read and write. Its antonym illiterate has an equally broad range of meanings: an illiterate person may be incapable of reading a shopping list or unable to grasp an allusion to Shakespeare or Keats. The term functional illiterate is often used to describe a person who can read or write to some degree, but below a minimum level required to function in even a limited social situation or job setting. An aliterate person, by contrast, is one who is capable of reading and writing but who has little interest in doing so, whether out of indifference to learning in general or from a preference for seeking information and entertainment by other means.·More recently, the meanings of the words literacy and illiteracy have been extended from their original connection with reading and literature to any body of knowledge. For example, "geographic illiterates" cannot identify the countries on a map, and "computer illiterates" are unable to use a word-processing system. All of these uses of literacy and illiteracy are acceptable.
Synonym would include:
Having an education: educated, enlightened, informed, lettered.
So, Tamaki-Sempai, if literacy means well written, what would you consider a "well written post"?
Well, Let me give you a few examples to show you different kinds of writting:
Piece Number 1
Quote:
*Leaves graveyard. Squints and Walks. Looks at building arond and then to blcksmith. Cuts Off Arm* ouch. *walkt to where others are* How are you.
Ok, so you know a few basic words. Believe me, this is a sad excuse for a post. Reasons include spelling errors, incomplete sentences improper grammar, no description, and punctuation errors. If you are going to post something like this, don't. It wouldn't be even close to sufficiency for a Literate Role Play.
Piece Number 2
Quote:
Karel walked out of the Graveyard musing to himself about his current situation. On his way to meet with his friends, he first began to admire the scenery within the city. He also stopped by the Blacksmith, taking his time to fix his arm. He had to cut it of, then burn it shut. He winced in pain and a scream was let loose from his lips. Finally finished, he went to his friend, to be sure they were ok.
This one is decent, but a bit short. Again, there is very little description and the wording is a bit lean. Lets fix these two things, because a Literate Role Play generally required one or two decent paragraphs.
Piece Number 3
Quote:
Karel Vashnard walked out of the dark and heavily forested graveyard, the sun glaring into his eyes, forcing him to squint at the bright light. He entered the town and gazed at how the sun seemed to gleam off of their surfaces in a new light, as if to promise better times ahead. He enjoyed the veiw, but knew that he had more pressing matters at hand. For starters, his missing arm needed attending to. The bloodloss had already started to set in, and he was begining to feel weakness caress him closer to death. No one else was around, and his arm was already useless, so there was but one solution...
He had to cut it off.
Moving quickly to the blacksmith's shop, he brought out a wire he had retrieved from his house. Karel set about readying the place for the self induced operation he had to perform.He made quick work of it, slicing through it and painfully sealing it by burning the wound close. The horrific pain caused a scream to emenate from his entire being as he quickly doused the burning flesh in cool water. The pain was still excruciating as the nerves continued to die, beginning to numb with time. When the pain had been killed sufficiently to walk without feeling as if spikes were being stabbed into his shoulder, He moved out of there, to get away from the smell of what he had just done. He disposed of the unnecesary arm and walked back into the woods, following the trail that the others had left to the place they now resided.
He had to cut it off.
Moving quickly to the blacksmith's shop, he brought out a wire he had retrieved from his house. Karel set about readying the place for the self induced operation he had to perform.He made quick work of it, slicing through it and painfully sealing it by burning the wound close. The horrific pain caused a scream to emenate from his entire being as he quickly doused the burning flesh in cool water. The pain was still excruciating as the nerves continued to die, beginning to numb with time. When the pain had been killed sufficiently to walk without feeling as if spikes were being stabbed into his shoulder, He moved out of there, to get away from the smell of what he had just done. He disposed of the unnecesary arm and walked back into the woods, following the trail that the others had left to the place they now resided.
This is an excellent post. It has decent size, great grammar, punctuation and description. True, it has a few small mistakes, but we all make them sometime.
There you have it. But wait! There's more! If you are feeling rather complex, you can add and add and add until you have exhausted your fingers. Pictures can be placed in your posts, as well as fancy quotes and little things that help people get to know your character more. Description can be deep and
compete the story, like painting a picture of each scene. This is what is considered an "EPIC" post. Here is an example, and I look forward to helping you further.
Quote:
KĦ®Ɛ£ ѴĦ§ђƝĦ®ƌ
The Merc Region Master
The Merc Region Master
"Well, for all those born with nothing,
there are those born with everything."
After finishing the duty, Karel reached up to rub at his eyes with one curled fist, to banish soreness and sleep deprivation; his still useable arms reaching skyward then falling as he stifled a yawn, containing it in his maw behind pursed lips. It seemed that everything seemed to come in with better focus now. The sun was getting fierce, and after coming out of the graveyard and heavy forest, Karel's eyes were sensitive to its light; he turned his face away from the glare quickly. After a moment of adjusting, brushing one spread fingered hand through the soft hair of his rufous mane, he hastened back to town, slipping into the shadows cast by the buildings along the block, his medium length cloak trailing behind him. Looking up he noticed that the way the sun fell upon it made the building light up like a torch all the way up to the third floor, but cast the rest of the street into a dismal darkness. It was as much the buildings hieght, as well as the way the heavily forested stony slopes of mountains that rose up far inland, that caused shadows to lay about the place.
Early afternoons shadow seemed to lend extra mystique to the tall, delicately designed buildings, and as Karel passed through the darkness they cast, he found himself admiring them and the hand that created their shapes with a distant, desperate kind of sadness. His thoughts rested on the cost paid for this mission, and with thoughts of what he was going to do next. As he stalked slowly through the streets, he tore his thoughts away from his miserable future and his loss, and turned them to his next actions for the day. He figured he would check on everybody, then himself. He would clean up, and then hed to the empty, and dark local tavern. After all, there was no need to fear the Hollows any longer. On a day before the Hollows came to being he would see the afternoon rush of men and women and children, scuttling along the streets, hurrying off to do their daily chores - the farmers to their fields, the city officials to their offices, the merchants to their stalls in the Market. He missed the gaggle of teens that looked up to him and trained as he watched on passively.
At one of the cross sections he stopped, glancing up and down the cobblestone boulevard that would take him one way to the tavern, and the other way the direction he had left the others. Where would he go? It wasn't like he had anything specific in mind to occupy his newly found time. There was plenty to do in the city, but even for him, much of it wasn't fun if you were by yourself. Slowly he brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it carelessly. He needed to shave. The long trying times had caused him to forget that part of the hygenic process. He could go to the ocean, but what would he do? His fishing pole had broken weeks ago and he didn't bother looking for one with the Hollows around. He could find a new one, but the effort itself would waste his day. There was always, he supposed, the library. He could spend time in its marbled halls and marvel at the wonder of architecture it was. And there was always the Docks, he supposed, even though they were likely in ruins. and he surmised that, if he was feeling rather ambiguous, he could head out to the Governor's Estate. Or he could find a nice bed at the Tavern and sleep for the rest of the day. Yes, that sounded lovely.
Despite his impulse to be lazy, he turned in the direction he had left the others. The residential area ended six blocks away, and at that time he would be out of the crowded buildings and tiny alleys that squiggled between them, and he would enter the Market District and the cities heart. As he moved he found himself studying not only the architecture, but the ways people had made their impact on the stark, boring buildings. Many windows still contained Sill gardens filled with dead plants, spilling over the edges and hanging their fines and stems out into the abyss of thin air; other windows held flags, tapestries, odd assrted items and statuettes. He took the greatest notice in the mess of vines that clung to the buildings, subconciously stroking his fingers through his hair once more. Upon entering the Market District, he immediately noticed the not so cramped spacing of the walls. In fact, it was quite the open space. Good. It would be easier to find them.
Early afternoons shadow seemed to lend extra mystique to the tall, delicately designed buildings, and as Karel passed through the darkness they cast, he found himself admiring them and the hand that created their shapes with a distant, desperate kind of sadness. His thoughts rested on the cost paid for this mission, and with thoughts of what he was going to do next. As he stalked slowly through the streets, he tore his thoughts away from his miserable future and his loss, and turned them to his next actions for the day. He figured he would check on everybody, then himself. He would clean up, and then hed to the empty, and dark local tavern. After all, there was no need to fear the Hollows any longer. On a day before the Hollows came to being he would see the afternoon rush of men and women and children, scuttling along the streets, hurrying off to do their daily chores - the farmers to their fields, the city officials to their offices, the merchants to their stalls in the Market. He missed the gaggle of teens that looked up to him and trained as he watched on passively.
At one of the cross sections he stopped, glancing up and down the cobblestone boulevard that would take him one way to the tavern, and the other way the direction he had left the others. Where would he go? It wasn't like he had anything specific in mind to occupy his newly found time. There was plenty to do in the city, but even for him, much of it wasn't fun if you were by yourself. Slowly he brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it carelessly. He needed to shave. The long trying times had caused him to forget that part of the hygenic process. He could go to the ocean, but what would he do? His fishing pole had broken weeks ago and he didn't bother looking for one with the Hollows around. He could find a new one, but the effort itself would waste his day. There was always, he supposed, the library. He could spend time in its marbled halls and marvel at the wonder of architecture it was. And there was always the Docks, he supposed, even though they were likely in ruins. and he surmised that, if he was feeling rather ambiguous, he could head out to the Governor's Estate. Or he could find a nice bed at the Tavern and sleep for the rest of the day. Yes, that sounded lovely.
Despite his impulse to be lazy, he turned in the direction he had left the others. The residential area ended six blocks away, and at that time he would be out of the crowded buildings and tiny alleys that squiggled between them, and he would enter the Market District and the cities heart. As he moved he found himself studying not only the architecture, but the ways people had made their impact on the stark, boring buildings. Many windows still contained Sill gardens filled with dead plants, spilling over the edges and hanging their fines and stems out into the abyss of thin air; other windows held flags, tapestries, odd assrted items and statuettes. He took the greatest notice in the mess of vines that clung to the buildings, subconciously stroking his fingers through his hair once more. Upon entering the Market District, he immediately noticed the not so cramped spacing of the walls. In fact, it was quite the open space. Good. It would be easier to find them.
"Perhaps those who never notice the difference,
are the ones we should envy."
are the ones we should envy."
