Elocphant

Elocphant
Player
Name: {{{name}}}
In-game name: emarshall01
Alts: OdinFire
Status: Inactive
Date:
First joined: November 27th 2013
Last seen: {{{lastseen}}}
Formed:
Abandoned:
Disbanded:
Location: Unknown
Coords: {{{coords}}}
Members: {{{members}}}
Clans: {{{clans}}}
Bases: {{{bases}}}
Schematic: {{{schematic}}}

Elocphant's Story

Elocphant was supposed to be a fresh start, a new identity, a new shield to hide behind. OdinFire, my old identity was sitting in jail rotting like a fallen apple. And OdinFire sure was a rotten apple. I fully acknowledged that. Upon logging in as elocphant i was presented with immediate moral decisions, sleek bullets which tested me more in silent seconds than my whole career as OdinFire. These moral bullets were Peppy42 and Creapat, both which were great friends with OdinFire, but if I truly wanted to assume a new identity, I would have to forge new friendships with these individuals, lie to them. Well I didn't really ever make a decision because I was almost immediately outed as OdinFire and locked behind bars once again.

One Month Later:

I'm back, my reputation is at an all time low and I'm at spawn. My memory of these first months are hazy, overshadowed by future events, like a painting which is desecrated after a fresh coat of paint is applied and rivulets of the fresh paint roll down in fat streams over the original works. I attempt to stay quiet for most of these months, but frequently get into heated arguments. I travel from base to base to base and then a small urge eventually swells into a desire to return to the wasteland which is spawn, which develops into action and suicide. Decisions to go back to spawn are usually immediately regretted when you realize, your previous safety nets have been shredded and you curse yourself for being so ignorant and accustomed to the riches you had amassed in your previous bases.

Some Better Memories:

Returning to old bases, most particularly ones i created while OdinFire, are particularly nostalgic. Sure the buildings might be made of cobble and an unskillful usage of oak wood and there might be an unnecessary amount of iron golems patrolling the area, but a smile always spread across my face even though sadness always perpetuated these areas, knowing that the friends I built them with will never return to share this experience with me.

The cow farm. There was once at a small farm base that i built so i could focus on writing works as the aspiring author of the server. This base eventually swelled as a good friend, JavelinFury joined me on my lonely nights at the farm, to accompany a village, chicken farm, pig farm and the prize of the base, the cow farm. It had gotten out of hand quickly when we created a seven-hundred-twenty size wheat farm so that we could have enough wheat to breed the cows until we were level 30 with every harvest. It was truly an unconventional experience grinder. The cow population swelled from a meager two-hundred to one-thousand and then so on. It eventually became so large the base was absorbed by lag, an area of effect every bit as destructive as a signal jammer. The entire server eventually became lagged because of this cow farm and DeflowVesper threatened to jail me for fueling this lag unless i killed all these cows. So running at one frame per second, I extracted a fire aspect sword from a chest and prepared for a slaughter. Unfortunately, upon entering the premises of this farm my framerate dropped so signifantly my tortured computer shrieked from exertion or being forced to process the thousands of these individuals. With a time-limit before DeflowVesper would jail me for lagging the server with cows (before she returned from her short afk she said), i repeatedly mashed click and this tactic worked, as the cloud of cows was so dense, with every cow i killed, another sighed with relief as a minuscule amount of space was freed for it which it gladly took. By the time i was finished, cooked steaks lay littered across the premises like trash on the streets after a riot.