Recent Statuses

26 days ago
Current You know. The 3rd Birthday was a really bad sequel to Parasite Eve 2.
29 days ago
To be fair "i'm busy! so busy i'll argue with you in the status bar on RPG!" is probably the master keikaku bait they were aiming for. Well executed.
2 mos ago
Ah. So it's a casual chat RP. Not my cup of tea but I'm not going to shit on it, clearly some draw if it has 182k posts. lol
2 mos ago
Sounds like a balling RP.
2 mos ago
I want the bridge to Sanctuary.


Alright. It's taken me years of lurking here and shitposting on the Discord but I think I'm actually getting my ki bar charged for roleplaying again. {12/7/2020}

I'm thinking some kind of horrible arena character. That place seems dead.


Arena Stats

0 Wins / 0 Losses / 0 Draws
1000 points

Most Recent Posts

In A Red Song. 28 days ago Forum: Arena Roleplay
That is fantastic. And an ill omen.
Though destruction thirsted for its avatar to begin manifesting before the Blues proper, and no doubt "magic" if not some unnatural force made the rules society loved to drill into your head go awry - no distress made itself known upon the green garbed reptilian man. Oh no.

Air exhaled from his reptilian lips while his lurching form rose. There would be humorous contrast in his holding of the green guitar if compared with the newly arrived malevolent being's lengthy and frankly virile weapon; yet the confidence his posture exuded when "wielding" this instrument could be comparable with the composure of a life trained swordsman more so than the reject of a bygone band playing at the local tavern's sorrow in metal form.

Now sure. Smith could dig this strange cat spawning from the depths of Hell or perhaps an unusual hobby whence upon the soil below. Could dig him proper. He cleaned up some of the condoms and sugar water cups that were beneath the guitarist to sanitize himself; can't knock that none. No sir! However. Imagine the suspicion one may harbor if suddenly an extremely attractive woman thrust herself up against you when coming home from a long day of working in the mines. Never laid eyes on her before, but she was making it clear she was pining for your attention; a more optimistic sort with a touch of youthful naivete might see this as quite the gift. Luck or the tidings of their person becoming the magnet of lust!

But what if you weren't such an optimistic customer?

Well, then you might start considering just exactly why a broad you cannot for the life of you recollect getting the name of has gotten to second base with you while you're sweaty and covered in the toil of your labor which amounts to ash and feces. Theft? Murder? She one of "those girls," the gold digger stereotype? Oh to be in the music industry and have this style baby, you just had to be ready for those types anywhichwhere no matter how sweaty you were sitting out in the hot sun surrounded by used tennis shoes and noodle cups, because the second your guard comes down, there comes the blade!

Now in this roundabout metaphor, the busty beautiful babe is an unannounced swordsman with a weapon longer than the hours in a hard summer's day popping out of nowhere like a substandard drug trip. Well built, head taller than your average bloke, big metal weapon; not Mr. Morwak's usual groupie. No sir. What do you suppose then is the most logical prediction for such an event? A magical being has formed from the void, here in this isle of hell, coincidentally on this day at this hour in mere feet of the mighty Morwak? No son, that's nonsensical.

The obvious answer:

One of them rich magical swordsmen that Morwak must've gambled with when he was on drugs. At some parties, you are expected to partake or you will be denied entry; that's just the industry, respect it or pay the price. No doubt this fellow is loaded, carrying that big impractical blade as some kind of ceremonial flex of clout, and is here to collect on a debt owed. No other logical reason comes to mind, fella is too clean to be a simple axe murdering fanboy. Oh geeze Louis'Ann... Does Smith have egg on his face right about now. Owin' money and he can't even remember the gentleman's name. Well. Flattery will get you everywhere, they say.

"Hello there sir. I hope you find this area accommodating. Ah, got any requests? I'll sing ya a song." And a flash of fanged teeth forming a smile so insincere it could spontaneously burst into cheese. Rich boys love the "plucky artist making me a custom" angle. Always do. Hell. Might earn himself a tip! Tips buy you new guitar strings.
Fighting time. Get my rust off me, Final Fantasy machine men.
Tough, dry dirt pressed down compact made up the grounds of the location for festivals and celebrations aplenty. It was middle of a summer day with a noon sun overhead, but something about this spot just didn't come across right. Hundred foot diameter patch of dirt, not a single sprout of grass. No trees. No structures either; about all you could tell of the revelry that once existed here was the copious amount of trash that had partially rotted. No birds, no particular concentration of insects - no nothing. Just eighty degree Fahrenheit heat and dead still air.

Well now on second thought, suppose there was a glaring exception to this nothingness.

6'5" with a silky dress set of robes bulging with torso muscle, sickly green reptilian flesh rippling.
There was most certainly a man among the dry heated void.

Humming to himself in a drawling voice that rang out into the heavens, he seemed awfully busy gazing those round dark spectacles at his lime green gloss finish v-neck guitar. Poking at a few strings, adjusting the tune with an occasional note distributed to the afternoon of white noise abyss.

Why was this strange man of dubious human nature toying with such a fine looking instrument in this inhospitable hell? Well the answer was: Mr. Morwak as simple his stage name was, did not appreciate the noise and cancerous hubbub of the city life. Threw him off ten ways around. And here, not so far away from civilization but highly undesired by the fairer and more childlike avatars of man, was a stupidly hot little circle of Heaven. Nobody bothered him. He could test out his sounds without a neighbor at his hotel room crying. And the only price was the sweat saturating his robes; come on! Worth it.

One after two after: "What! Can you do on the sun~? You'd be burned to pieces.. on the sun. Oh now~ In the darkness with your laaaaaaaaahgGGgg... no!.."

Cutting off his dandy early with a groan of frustration, his metallic finger-tipped metal limbs began toying with the guitar again. Didn't sound right at all. Frankly sounded atrocious. He wouldn't tip that if he were a drunk let alone a music critic. And although he had this beautiful spot of solitude all to his lonesome, Smith was getting awful frustrated with the poor sound the vaguely lizardesque musician was producing today. Showing signs of being parched as his thin tongue elongated past his fangs to stroke those bone dry lips, he just knew this afternoon needed to be his muse for getting the song away from resembling a dirge. Needed to inspire romance. Maybe that blues touch.
[Name] :: Faces of Roen.

[Height] :: (General posture) 5'5" (Upright) 6'4"
[Weight] :: 350 lbs
[Reach] :: 85"
[Age] :: 3 years

"Devil? Devil. Devilishly devil-like.."
In :<< 3 mos ago Forum: Introduce Yourself
The answer is roleplay and fight and win.

Gonna start making characters here now. Hell. I may even use them. You don't know, I don't know, we don't know.

Note most of my roleplaying is in arena/1v1 fighting scenes and in Roll20 ran Pathfinder. I'm probably down for other stuff but these characters may not work so well for some genres. Can't see them being the most impeccable for a romance roster. Doesn't mean I won't do it, but it does mean you should really know better.

Gonna try to make one shitty character a day the next several days. Here's my first one.
[Name] :: Thomas "TJ" Jones Walker.

[Profession] :: High School Janitor.
[Height] :: 6'1"
[Weight] :: 168 lbs
[Reach] :: 76"
[Age] :: 32 years
[Male] :: Heterosexual but questioning.

Hm. My greatest RP failure is wanting to be in the perfect environment/head space to start writing.

Obviously based on my post count and registration date here, you can guess how that's worked out.

Across various sites, arenas/tournaments kept a kind of mandated frenzied pace / shit talk flow that would jar me out of it. And I do Pathfinder RP fairly often that scratches that creative bug, but it's easily my greatest flaw that I spend way more time thinking about than actually performing any writing.

I think I've even spent more time creating characters, video game RPG style and reiterating on them over and over and over, than playing them. That "taking the plunge" step eludes me. In fact I'm already thinking about making some characters before I shape up and go into an RP proper again. lol

My advice based on that is don't get into the habit of waiting for the stars to align like me; slap whatever shit down you can and be willing to fail sometimes. Because sub-optimal yet tangible beats optimal but at most hypothetical.

I'm almost ready to KO your character with a mundane janitor and I see you're roleplaying offsite.

But you won't escape the mop for long.
In Ask an Admin, v2. 10 mos ago Forum: News
Whenever our group of troublemakers keeps their noses clean for a while,

Rather, there's an organized group of troublemakers here? O_O

Every bit ominous.

Nonetheless, thank you and staff for your hard work.

Obviously many people don't comprehend the struggle to keep internet communities toxicity free.
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