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Multiple Settings Mitmar's Emporium of Mostly Maniacal Mumblings: The Grand Reopening

Lord Mitmar

But... It was so artistically done...
You, yes, you there! I see you have stumbled upon this mess of a thread! Well come on then, don't just stand there! Come in, come in! Be a good fellow and get browsing!
Let's get this out of the way, I'm not funny. I like to think I am, but my jokes are godawful at best. Don't humor me, these things need to be quelled before they have a chance to breed.

Now, this will probably be rather rudimentary, unprofessional, and not to mention bumbling as all hell.
Just, y'know, fair warning, but no matter! The show must go on! Brace yourselves!

Oh, and, before I forget: Hello there! You're looking lovely today. Thanks for taking a peek in here!

First off, the best part! Rules! Why are you not excited? Get excited! It's the most exciting bit!

1: Follow RPN rules, as well as general RP rules (No godmoding, that lot), this should be obvious. Like, painfully, inherently obvious. Why am I even listing this? Why is this in the script?! Someone get me a manager!

2: I do like speaking with my partners in a separate OOC chat. This is a personal taste, and I don't expect it to be followed religiously, however, I know there's quite a talkative bunch around here, so I doubt there'll be too many cold shoulders. Know that discussion, ranting, and/or raving are all welcome. Also, if you want to give some constructive criticism or just spew vicious howls at me, feel free to do so! I promise I'll listen to whatever you've got to say, and hey, if anyone just wants to talk: Feel free to drop me a line, you're more than welcome :)

3: I don't mind mistakes, we're all human! Well, aside from those of you who are obviously artificial. We know you're here, damnit! Please be patient with my own errors, in turn. I do try to uphold a certain quality to my writing, but, at the end of the day, this is supposed to be fun! Don't stress over the little things, amigo!

4: I ran out of fucks bloody years ago. I do lots of odd things. Mostly in my absolute abuse of commas and tangential rambling. If something in my typing bugs you, say so! I'll make note of it. Still probably won't remember to do anything about it, but hey, I think about each and every one of you. Well, y'know. Sometimes.

5: I prefer chatting/RPing over PM as I find it easier to keep track that way. Still, I'm an adaptable guy. Want to dive into a thread? Fine by me! Feel like shooting emails back and forth? Whatever works! Want to hop on Discord? No problemo, friend! (Though I'll note I much prefer keeping off Discord for in-character stuff, that damn text limit drives me up the wall.)

6: I get sidetracked, you get sidetracked, it's human nature. If I've taken longer than a week to respond without reason, feel free to give me a shove! I'll probably do the same for you unless you request differently. On the flip side, I don't mind at all if you'd prefer to take things n i c e a n d s l o w. I've had partners rocking that two-month post turnaround (Not that I went any quicker, mind you!) and it's totally cool! Just talk it out my guy, we're all friends here. I won't bite unless you want me to!

7: I'm down with whatever damn pairing you can come up with! M/F, M//, F//, M/nB, F/nB, nB//, some crazy combo I've never heard of? Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Comradeship? Whatever's good, son! Fair warning, I tend to have a penchant for playing female characters more often than not, but that's certainly not a hardfast rule. Just be open-minded, yeah? Not every story has to be romantic. Not every story has to be chock-full of diversity, either! Want to go for a night out with just the lads? Sure thing! How 'bout a sisterly girls' day? Works for me! Hell, you want to write up a couple of mortal enemies? Abso-fuckin'-lutely! Frankly, I'm a bit tired of the old "boy meets girl" adventures. Give me something interesting, damn you!

8: I swear. I talk politics. I drink blood. I listen to metal. You know I'm hardcore. Want to jam out with me? Rock on, brother! Want me to turn the music down? I love you, I respect you, I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but don't cramp my style, old man. In other words: I'm more than happy to chill, be friends, write some cool stories, hell even play some video games if you're down; just please don't go all high-and-mighty on me. I've had people go off a few times in the past over trivial nonsense. It kinda sucks. I'll try to be accommodating, but that street goes both ways, man! Don't like me? Cool, no worries! Exit stage left, and have a lovely day!

9: Also known as Rule 7 Part 2: This Time It's Serious, I play all types of characters, male, female, good, bad, really bad, Dwarves, Elves, spacers, soldiers, scientists, granddads, children, you name it, I've probably at least thought about a character that fits 'it'. I know some people are much less flexible, some people have their style and I respect that. Please, respect my flexibility by not limiting my room to create. To me, character creation is perhaps the most enjoyable part of roleplay. I like to do my own thing, here. I'm totally down with including a specific characteristic or two you want to play around with, but for my own sake, don't give me a whole-ass shopping list of traits and demand I include all of them in my characters. Variety is the spice of live, man! Still, I play for realsies in terms of believability. I want my characters to feel real! And don't worry, I'll seek your approval before doing something super drastic, so don't start with the agitated hyperventilation. Not now. We've come so far!

And would ya look at that! It's over! Well, at least it was fun while it lasted, wasn't it? Don't answer that. Anyway! On to the plot ideas!

Actually, I lied. Before all that fun stuff, here's some more fun stuff! Get ready for a sample platter! Feel free to poke through these at your leisure, ignore them entirely, or even ask for seconds! And hey, if any of these catch your fancy, let me know! I'd be perfectly happy to get something going based on these snippets! Most of them are from old rp's that never got off the ground, anyway! And just a head's up, I'm not always this, uh, verbose, but I like to be! I'm good with more casual styles, as well, though. Just give me a couple'a paragraphs to work with, eh? Have fun writing! It's, y'know, kinda why we're here!

The rain really never did stop in England. It was a pleasant change from the dust storms of Iran, though. Plus, Emily always loved the rain. Cecilio shuddered. She was dead, killed by a nameless competitor in cold blood. It was almost unbelievable, even now. Things could go wrong, of course, but he had always thought of her as invincible. She wasn't just the most adventurous and capable person he'd ever met, she was also the most intelligent. He'd never seen her without a plan, and even when those plans fell through, she was always quick enough to think of something new in time to save herself. It was just... Why was she the one to die? How did he survive a literal war zone for years on end, running blindly into a battlefield of mines and shrapnel to save his friends and get the footage he needed to impress everyone back home every single day, always coming out unscathed, yet she was the one to catch a bullet? It just didn't make sense. It had to be some horrible joke. It had to, but it wasn't. She was gone, and he was here. He knew there was no point in blaming himself for it, but he couldn't stop. Maybe if he had stayed back when the war started, stayed with his friends, he could have been there to protect them. Maybe he could have saved her, and he'd finally have a chance to go on the adventures he'd always wanted. Then again, he knew he wouldn't have been able to do anything. Even if he were there, even if he did react fast enough, he never would have won that fight. No one could have.

He lived. She didn't. He'd have to accept that and move on.

After all, that's why he was here. To say goodbye.

He trudged onwards, his usually energetic pace slowed to a moody crawl. Some small part of him begging him to turn around, to rejoin the war and take his vengeance there, but he knew he could never go back to that hell. He'd never meant to go there in the first place, yet here he was, wishing he was still stuck in that desert. Anything would be better than this damned walk. He wasn't just here for Emily's sake, though. Rynn was his friend too—hell, he was actually closer to her than Emily before he'd left—and she needed his support. But... She was still breathing. She could wait. At least for now. He rounded yet another corner, and there it was. The Ipsen Manor in all its glory. Standing tall and proud even as its owner took her eternal rest. It reminded the slumped figure before it that, while he had lost a friend, there was still some good in the world. Memories never died. Legacies lived on. Missions... Missions could always be completed by another. He couldn't help himself as the fragile makings of a toothy smile slowly spread over his solemn features. Emily wouldn't want him to sulk over her. She would push him onward. He couldn't let this kill him, not while there was still so much work left to do in her name. By the time he reached the grand oak door before him, he looked almost exactly as he did when he left all those years ago; that dead husk of a man who was carrying him home having all but vanished in the twenty-meter walk up to the manor's entrance. There he stood, the soaked fabric of his military fatigues billowing ever so gently in the rain's wind.

One knock. Two. They rang out through the empty street like gunfire, briefly taking him back to that nightmare. The flashbacks had started out almost as vivid as the footage he'd brought home, but they were fading. Slowly, yes, but they were fading, which was some small kindness, at least.

The door swung inwards, revealing the warm light and grand parlor of the long-late Mr. Ipsen. One thing was always certain, Emily's father had held an excellent taste in decor.
"My god... Is that you, Mr. Ricci?" Hillary murmured, his eyes, which seemed impossibly older than the last time Cecilio had seen him, were filled with an astonished spark of recognition.
"Ah, your eyes haven't given up just yet, Mr. Duval!" He responded with a smile as bright and broad as the lightning that loomed so ominously behind him. "I've come to... To pay my respects. If you'll have me, of course. I... I do hope I'm still welcome here?" He asked with only the barest hint of uncertainty.
"Of course! Always. Come-come, let's get you out of that damned swell before it pulls you away again!" The old caretaker called with a laugh as he practically dragged the weary trooper inside.

The manor was just as magnificent as Cecilio had remembered. He'd only ever been there once, for a sort of going-away party before he'd shipped out, but everything seemed to be exactly as it was then. The statues of marble and granite were still there, from the proud general in his dashing uniform to the roaring bear atop the fallen log. The paintings seemed utterly undisturbed, hell, some even looked like they had been restored. the welcoming scarlet carpet was just as stunning as he'd remembered. Still, he knew there was something missing, that there always would be, but just then, for that one blessed moment, Emily's absence didn't even seem to matter. While he'd only been here once, this was his home. The artifacts of cultures long gone, the maps of islands previously unknown to man, this place was a hub of everything he loved most. Everything they all loved most.

He didn't even notice the figure silently slipping down the stairs as Hillary insisted he take his coat off for the second time.
"You're almost as stubborn as me, you know that?" The butler chuckled as Cecilio relented, slipping out of the tan overcoat he'd donned earlier, making it quickly apparent that that coat was the only new thing the man was wearing. His uniform was ragged and dusty, his boots worn and stained by soot, even his skin looked worn. As much as he tried to conceal it, he hadn't left school on his pride alone. He was broke. Always had been, and it certainly didn't help that the military, caught in over its head with a conflict that had dragged on far longer than expected, couldn't pay him for his service. He was a man of honor and he would never beg for anything, but... Well, he was silently hoping he would be welcome to stay a few nights. Until he could find a proper job and earn enough money to feed himself, at least.

Then he heard her, those quiet, mousey steps bouncing to meet him from over his weary shoulder.
He spun around in the quickest of blurs, a hand—embarrassingly enough—snatching for a pistol that was no longer where it should have been. "Rynn?" Was all he could choke out, a moment's confused realization sending his empty hand flying back to his chest. "What-What the hell are you doing here?" His grin spread wider and he lunged forward, wrapping her in a hug that could very likely better be described as a tackle. "Fuck me is it good to see you!"
Tall tales and whispering hopes had always had the inexplicable tendency to weave their way into even the most unlikely of hearts. They survived every trial, and only ever seemed to grow even stronger and more compelling as they spread. Of course, every tale held some hint of fantasy to it, no matter how real its roots were. It was no different with the quiet murmurings of resistance. There was no shortage of hatred towards the Hegemony and its tyrannical ways, of that there could be no doubt, but there were few who were foolish enough to actually act on that passion. After all, what were they but a band of desperate fools? Not even the great armies of empires long crumbled could hold their own against the Hegemonic might.

Then again, that was a very different time. A time of chaos and foolishness where even the pettiest of differences had kept the people from uniting against their common foe. Left unattended, that foe grew from no more than a hundred swords into the monster that it had since become, a monster that would claim the life of any who stood against it. It was such a looming presence, such a constant fear, that it had almost drowned away the last hopes of freedom. It had nearly claimed even the very dreams of justice. The empire had descended upon the land with all the grace of a coming night, taking every sense of right and wrong into its twisted embrace.

Yet there they were. The tales. The claims of a true rebellion. The silent roars of those old, forgotten dreams coming to life once again. It was a timid light, at best, but it was there, and it would spread given the time it needed. Like a fire coaxed into existence under a hail of rain, it needed protection and faith, but more than anything, it needed fuel. But that's what the stories were for, wasn't it? To bring new eyes to the kindling little flame, even if it meant attracting the wrong kind of attention. The revolution wasn't grand, nor was it strong, but it was there. An imperfect light in the black.

The brush gave way with a defeated sigh, its quiet complaint punctuated by a pair of hurried footfalls. The shine of shaded lantern reflecting neatly off the slick riverbank below. The heavy dusk had so far proven to be almost too effective at concealing the wavering light and its owner's sullen face, one could hardly see their own feet, let alone the surrounding woods. It was an eerily moonless night. An excellent night for a band of frightened people to melt away into the cover of darkness.

"Brilliant night for an ambush." Came a grim, whispered voice as the lead man looked back at his newfound companion. She was an unusual one, utterly silent since they had first met by sheer coincidence some time ago, but her stride was sure and her ears sharp. She'd already saved them both from the watchful gaze of a Loyalist patrol, a threat that they, thankfully, hadn't had to worry about since they left the last sorry excuse for a road. The leaf-strewn ground may still be dangerous in its own right, but at least they could walk with some shred of confidence here.

They marched on in silence, tiny light bouncing to the erratic rhythm of their winding steps. From the minuscule slivers of moonlight that could be seen peeking through the towering pines overhead, they were already horrendously late for the agreed-upon meeting. So many tiny delays, compiled into a single tangled mess of lost time... It was a strange feeling, being so far from home.

"William." The gentle voice snuck up on the man so suddenly he felt the lantern nearly slip from his usually certain grip. He glanced back at the woman's shadowed face. Even in this oppressive dark, her jade eyes shone like so many stars overhead. A gloved hand demanded he stop, and only then could he make out the faint rumblings of conversation. For a flashing moment, the two stood in fearful silence, but the familiar sound of wavering voices could leave no doubt, they had finally reached their destination.

"Let's not waste any more time." His voice drifted through the air, seeming impossibly quiet with the sound of civilization once again flooding his ears. With a final shared glance of apprehension, the two stepped forward in unison, breaking into the small clearing with no more ceremony than a curious fawn. The woman glanced about, her gaze clouding with uncertainty as some dozen pairs of eyes settled somewhere between the two. She gave a stiff nod as she reached to drop her cloak's scarlet hood, leaving her dark oaken hair to settle atop her tense shoulders.

For a pair of complete strangers, they looked remarkably similar. Faces etched with little care for gentle appearances, with sharp lines and intense frowns never quite leaving their pale frames. The only real difference was in their eyes. William's, a dark, cloudy brown, her's, that shining jade. Though they were no more than a few years apart, William seemed aged quite far beyond his days. Eyes sunken with worry, features constantly twisted in despairing uncertainty.

"Remind me never to agree to another of these damned night rallies again." He mused as those frightened eyes passed over him, most easily recognizing him as a friend and quickly shifting to his stiff companion. She seemed utterly uncertain of what to actually do. "This is Cecilia." He spoke for her, gesturing with the lantern as he did so, and forcing more cheer into his voice than he'd felt in some time. "And for those of you who don't know, I'm Doctor Nikula. Surgeon, servant of our... 'Beloved' Lord Greyfield, and, I suppose, rebel."
This war has waged for 4 years now, unfortunately, it's been a complete stalemate for the past two. It all started when the Xiyi ran into a remotely controlled deep space exploration vessel sent by the recently unified Human empire in the hopes of finding a suitable expansion for their little kingdom. Through some immense stroke of luck, the overgrown reptiles had managed to decipher the ship's encoded transmission log. They reached the Sol system in just over a year. Misled, perhaps, by the explorer's nearly nonexistent defensive arsenal, the aliens had underestimated humanity—a mistake that cost them the advantage of surprise. They didn't come with any goodwill, though, and it was nothing short of a damned miracle that the age-old, massively outdated (and incredibly expensive) Orbital Threat Detection and Elimination system was able to hold off the advancing fleet long enough for the effectively decommissioned Human navy's old engines to fire up. The initial assault was repelled, but with the Europa colony in ruins, no one questioned this new threat.

Two weeks. It took two weeks for the declaration of war. Three more and the threat level was upped to "Extinction". The unified species of just under thirteen billion men, women, and children offered no objections when the Terrestrial High Council declared total war and took control of every single means of production they could. Fifteen months. It took fifteen months for the first true attack's arrival. By then the shaken Humans had produced seven Umbrella-class planetary defense systems; massive, ground-based railguns that could (theoretically) repel an invasion. They proved a success, taking down hundreds of ships before the overwhelmingly constant onslaught of Xiyi reinforcements cut off their supplies. Without food or fuel, the solar system's defense collapsed one piece at a time. All that remained of humanity after the second year was Earth. Now, even the crown jewel of the Sol system lies in an uncertain balance. Four more Umbrellas have done a remarkable job in keeping the bulk of the Xiyi force from landing, but ground troops have managed to sneak past in the years since their introduction. Now, there isn't a single patch of land on Earth that isn't devoted in some way to the war front.

Dagmara gave a small grunt as she clambered into the Chimera's tight cabin, her thoughts still lingering on the proud captain's plea for help. He had tried to conceal the desperation in his voice, but his efforts were betrayed by his own quivering breath. This is Captain Amro of the Sixth Shield Division, the pilot's radio had squeaked, the Green Line is holding, but sector-17D is taking heavy indirect fire, plasma grade. It looks like they're prepping for a push against the Northern flank, requesting immediate fire support! I repeat~ She strapped into the ergonomic flight seat, it's cushioned grooves seemed to perfectly encase her shaking body. The fighter's untamed power roared like the bears of the past. The Chimera line was a completely new addition to the human air force, built from the ground up to utilize the aliens' own energy weapons against them. It was an amazing ship, capable of decimating a good quarter-mile area in a single strike if the unfortunately unreliable plasma generator managed to produce a full payload of volatile energy. A feat that, frankly, didn't seem to happen outside of the demonstration videos. Reliable or not, the hundred or so that were produced were still an incredibly effective and recognizable addition to the air force.

"Captain Amro; this is Lieutenant Bellator, you've got your air support. I'm en route now, thirty seconds out. Keep your heads down!" The fighter nosed down, its humming generators sputtering madly as they raced to catch up with the new power demands. The wind rushed past at an incredible speed, the screaming howl of the engine trailing behind by nearly a half-second. There; the bright green power cells of the Xiyi artillery presented a painfully obvious target as the Chimera's primary cannon began its firing cycle. The rush of heat, the silent discharge, the deafening explosions as the four mobile artillery platforms went up in a sickly yellow blaze, that screaming engine as the pilot pulled back on the heavy flight stick. For a split second the engine hiccuped, almost sending her into the dirt before revving once again and rocketing her upwards. She couldn't help but blush at the Captain's radioed applause, not that any blood actually reached her pale cheeks. No, it was all rather preoccupied with pooling in her legs as the immense shift in speed and direction did its best to crush her.

"Targets down, Green. Keep it up down there, I've got a few more where that came from if you need 'em!" The clouds made no effort to stop the fighter's progress as it hit its top climbing rate of, as the ever-insightful pilot's booklet noted, 'Way too fucking fast.' The Xiyi air support didn't take long to arrive, but they were flying far too low for their own good. The first one didn't even get a chance to see what hit him as the Chimera's secondary rotary cannons sent a volley of ballistics through the enemy's oddly shaped fuselage. Stray bullets embedded themselves into the buildings below as the Xiyi interceptor went down above its own forces. In a perfect world, the Chimera's thruster would have carried its light frame back above the relative safety of the clouds, but this wasn't exactly a perfect world. The engine died just as she began elevating, forcing her to level out more or less parallel to the enemy. "No. No! Not now... C'mon you bitch!" The pilot shouted, her thick, resonant accent echoing unsatisfyingly against the unresponsive controls, the engine's wild sputtering drowning out her muttered cursing for a terrifying moment until it finally growled again, ready for a fight.
There are many ways one could describe a pirate haven. Many of these are a matter of perspective. For instance, some would happily deem anyone and anything that flew no flag entirely, irredeemably, unjustifiably evil. Then again, others would insist that calling it "free" would be closer to the truth. Both are right, in a way, though wrong in others. Then there are some things about criminal cities that, no matter who you ask, will always be mentioned. They're dangerous, of course. That's a given. They're dirty. Then again, what city isn't? And. They. Are. Loud. There's the usual hustle and bustle of life amongst hundreds of others, there's the petty squabbling between the varying peoples, crews, and backgrounds, there's the songs of the brothels and the roars of the taverns and gambling halls, hell, sometimes there's even the unmistakable sound of laughter thrown in the mix. It all tends to blend together sometimes, after all, it's not like any of it really matters at the end of the day. All cities are caught in constant motion, criminal ones just happen to be running most of the time. Still, there's one sound that no one ignores; one that everyone is all too familiar with. The sound of a brewing fight.

Word spread fast in Rumblood, after all, for all of its majesty, it could never exactly claim to be a sprawling community. The zealot was at it again. He'd been spewing his vitriol for, what? Days? Weeks? Time itself seemed disturbed by the man's vile presence. There weren't many rules on Rumblood and 'Don't make trouble' was, most certainly, on that list; so why, exactly, the town watch hadn't sent him swimming back to whatever manling cult he'd run away from, was what many in the town deemed a great mystery. "He's mad!" They would whisper, "He'll bring ruin to us all!" Then again, though, he deserved every chance Tik'i'ta had been given, did he not? Whether or not his musings were deluded, not to mention remarkably public, was irrelevant. He was still a fellow seeker of truth, and an evidently dedicated one at that. She understood the town's skepticism, mad prophets and doomsayers were more common than one might think, but she had refused to leap to any drastic conclusions. At least until she could meet the man himself.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like she'd have the chance to stick around for one of the prophet's wild sermons after all. Not after the mess he'd made for himself today. As fate would have it, Tik'i'ta had seen the crowded square shift, it seemed some had rushed the man, leaving the others to flee or go along with, well, whatever was happening. Even from her place in the sky just a few blocks away from the apparent chaos, Tik'i'ta could only barely make out the general cluster of bodies, let alone pick out a single individual. Damnable sun. Why did the other races always insist on doing their business with that abomination overhead? No matter, she was sure it was him. Who else could cause such a fuss? In any case, she could feel his days in Rumblood were running short. It would be a fool's errand to get herself stuck in that mess now. Even if she was looking to leave the town, why risk her welcome? With a reflexive shuddering of her wings, she moved on, careful to keep her head down and eyes turned away from that gigantic ball of death.

It wasn't much later that she found herself amid the incessant hollering of the skyport. She needed passage to the next step in her journey, and this was the best place to look. Plus, it kept her further away from the usual shipyard and, more specifically, the water. She'd never forget the last naval vessel she foolishly stepped foot onto. The thing was cursed, there were no two ways about it. There was nothing the crew could have done to save the poor thing. After she sank, well, Tik'i'ta would have quite liked to forget the weeks she'd spent aboard that tiny whaleboat. It was... Unfortunate that a creature who could never replicate even the simplest concept of swimming must spend so much of her life atop the waves. The rare time she spent aboard those wobbling airships was always a much-preferred experience, but that was enough rumination for now. It was time to find a ship. Preferably one that wasn't too large nor blood-stained, but sizable enough that it could never have too many hands. Admittedly, that was a pretty narrow window, but the K'rarian would settle with whatever was necessary. The stars would guide her, no matter how unfortunate her station may be.

Well, it wasn't perfect, but it would do. The Whimsical Lady, its nameplate read. She'd heard vague mentions of the ship and her crew before, none all too pleasant and most followed by a series of less than clever insults, but she'd never heard of them being particularly dangerous. More... Chaotic. Still, a pilgrim must take what they are given, and she was no different. Without even a moment's hesitation, she crossed from the side alley she'd been skulking along into and through the main yard and onto the boarding ramp. She was never afraid of heights, of course, but there was something deeply unsettling about putting her trust in what amounted to a suspended plank with her wings wrapped around her body and towering antennae stuffed under her infernal hood. It took nearly all of her will to restrain herself from ripping away that damned thing. She knew it was of the utmost importance not to stand out, but she often questioned if it was worth the sacrifice. Willingly stripping herself of her sense of smell and balance was, well, about as unsettling as one would expect, but it had to be done. She couldn't stand out. Not here, not now. Once she was aboard a ship and away from the countless greedy eyes of the city; she could drop the facade, but until then, it was too much of a risk. She'd already put herself in enough danger just flying here, any more would be more foolish than brave.

"Hail~I am no threat~I seek a position aboard." The gemstone echoed from its place about her neck. A greetings and a surrender, meant for all but aimed at none. It was a strange thing to describe, the voice. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, more appearing than being made. It was as if it came of its own volition. It was soft and clearly feminine, but held a wholly unnatural sense, not unlike the hollow voice of a spirit or the rumbling of the undead, and its words melded together in a way that could best be described as simply wrong. She stopped, then. Gingerly reaching to place a hand along the Lady's guard rail as she scanned the scuffed deck, weathered sails, and carefully-tied ropes. No, it wasn't perfect, but it would certainly do. The one thing the ship appeared to have a severe lack of was crew. Most would be ashore, of course, but surely a few remained? Perhaps not, but there was only one way to find out. With a gentle rustling of her coiled wings, she stepped off the boarding ramp and onto the Lady's sturdy deck. This was bound to be interesting. That much was certain.

Still with me? Awake? Sane? All in one piece? Fantastic. Now, without further adieu, let's get to the plots! I promise this won't take another year off of your life. I'll throw some asterisks in front of the ones I'm most excited about. You know the drill.

So, I'll level with you here: I've been playing a good 16 hours daily worth of Cyberpunk 2077 since it came out. No, that's... Not an exaggeration. ~134 hours sunk as of this edit. My life has v a n i s h e d. Just about three playthroughs so far and, well... Yeah. I've forgotten what year it is. I see Johnny in my periphery. Judy is Best Girl. Life is an absurdist drama. Pacifica is still Pacifica.

So! What's the point, you ask? Well, I'm really, really, really f u c k i n g looking to write in the lovely world CDProjekt's made. Also, if you just want to nerd about the game, I'm all ears. You'd have trouble finding a bigger fan, I imagine. Anyway! That's what I'm here for, really. Not much else to it, frankly. I'll leave the other ideas I've got brewing in a spoiler below, but I've got no shame in saying my muse is solidly absorbed at the moment! Here's a proper listing because I'm a sucker for consistency, but, honestly, fuckin' throw whatever you've got at me, man. Just let me play some quickhacking rebel (Contagion build>>>Anything) on a crusade against the forces of capitalism and I'm there. Super Ultra Bonus Points if you're down to muck around with the whole entwined minds/shared body/engram fuckery thing—I'd love to experiment with that a little more from either perspective, even if it'll definitely be a complete mess! Oh, and, for the record, I'm very careful with spoilers! Rest easy, choombatta! Say the magic word, and the cannon stories never happened! :)

***Goooooood Morning Night City!: Your man Stan here! Yesterday's body count lottery capped out at a lean, preem, thirteen! Now, I know what you're thinking my friends; "Has Christmas come early in Night City?" No, no it has not. Though, with Pacifica's recent reclassification to an independent district, we're sure to see those low, low tallies sticking around throughout our hot, hot summer! Now, for those among us curious enough to wonder; Pacifica's own freshly-independent count rounded out at a nifty fifty thanks to a little scuffle brought to you by our friends in The Animals! Back in more familiar waters: Unmarked vans continue to roam the streets, new gangs are upsetting our fraught balance, and a fresh generation of rebels and revolutionaries are knocking on the system's door! Above it all, corpos and conspirators are shaking in their boots from their top-floor penthouse suites! The streets may be as bleak as ever, but a new dawn has come to meet our City of Dreams—so get out there and enjoy the sun! : Long-time friends ripped apart by their changing ideologies, gang rivalries shaking up the settled turf, edgerunners working for the corps, badges calling favors from the 'runners, hit-jobs, thievery, BD-diving, cross-country escapades with the nomads, whatever you're in the mood to give a try, I'm down for it! Short term gigs, extended entanglements, hell, the whole rise and fall if you're down for it! Shoot me an idea, a character pitch, a faint vibe, whatever you've got—I'm more than willing to play around and make it work!

The Trouble with Curiosity: If you've ever seen the Netflix show Stranger Things, this is basically the testing scenes from that jumbled together with the SCP Foundation's style and expanded into a story. People, typically kids/young adults though not always, found to possess superhuman abilities or traits are marked, investigated, secured, contained, and experimented upon by your typical shady government/private agency in the hopes of using the subjects to their advantage. The cast is entirely flexible, though I do want to play around with my gal from this rp which, unfortunately, stalled and fell into oblivion. Such is life. Anyway! We can discuss whatever you'd like! Multiple test subjects living life, researchers dealing with moral dilemmas, security personnel working around the subjects' abilities, attacks from the outside world, alternate dimensions being opened by foolish experimentation, containment breaches and escape attempts, all of the above, whatever! Just give me some e x p e r i m e n t a t i o n damn you!

Just Another Bug Hunt: Ever seen the Alien films? Of course you have! Why not mix up the first and second films, toss some slightly more modern ideas of low sci-fi in the mix and see what happens? A crew of badasses is sent to investigate a silent space station/ship, unknowingly walking into a hell of giant spiders, alien parasites, automated defense systems, a rogue AI, and a whole lot of blood. Plus, y'know, whatever else we come up with! The crew fights tooth and nail to survive against an enemy no one has ever seen before, retrieving research data stored in the genetics labs aboard the derelict and first-hand experience on the way. Some make it out, most don't. Corporate greed sends them right back in with gear better suited to the mission and some extra back up. only to find that Humans aren't the only creature in the galaxy that's ready to adapt to a threat. OooOoOooOOoooOoOoooOOoo damnit Spooky Season, why did you leave us already? Now all I hear when I sleep is Santa's Coming to Town :(

Foxholes: 1918, the Great War rages on. There's something different here, though, something history professors would be up in arms over. What's that, steam over the horizon? By god, it is! WW1 has been shoved in a Hadron Collider with a load of Steampunk themes! Our ever-so-enviable heroes would be a part of a mission that takes them behind enemy lines, perhaps they've been sent to recover a lost patrol, perhaps they've been sent to eliminate a high priority target, the why is up to you! Long periods of tense downtime, where artillery could begin raining from the heavens at any moment balanced by the obvious terror of war and the jubilation of victory. Maybe our heroes come back to a nation that no longer reflects what they fought for? Revolution time baby?

Above the Sunken City: We've seen zombies, we've seen disease, we've seen nuclear war, we've seen aliens, there's a lot of ways for the wold to end, especially in fiction. Natural disasters don't get nearly as much love. Well, they do sometimes, but we never get to see the people actually caught in the aftermath. Global warming hits a critical level because we're all idiots and don't do anything to stop it, the polar caps melt, and the world floods. Our (ig)noble band of survivors pull through the flooding that claims their city by being in the right place at the right time. Only the tallest, sturdiest towers remain standing above the raging waves. Trapped in the uppermost floors of a mostly submerged skyscraper, surrounded by the floating bodies of a dead city, beaten by savage storms and unbearable heat waves, and completely, utterly alone, they press on.

Speaking of... Zombies!: They're old, they're rotten, they're slow, they're stupid, but by god are they scary! I won't belabor the point on this one. Give me some Walking Dead vibes, thank you very much. Except, y'know, better than that trash show. There, I said it. Fight me. The first two seasons were class, though! Maybe we could pull something of a Train to Busan (Korean film, very fun!) and center the tale around, well, trains. Trains are fun, right? Maybe I've been playing too much Metro: Exodus.

It Belongs in a Museum!: Beating sun, buried temples, wealth beyond imagination, and more ancient curses than you could shake a reasonably-sized stick at. A rag-tag team of adventurers put their archaeologist hats on and go hunt for loot in the most inhospitable places on Earth! Some curses leave them bound to the tomb they've foolishly defiled, others just fill their pants with locusts. Can our heroes Indiana Jones themselves out of whatever trouble we put them in? Probably not. Will they try? Absolutely!

If You don't Try and We Lose, then it's All Your Fault: Yeah, Ender's Game, baby! (Okay, I'll stop now. Promise.) I'm also taking some Rimworld inspiration, here. Basically, I'm thinking we stuff some vaguely adolescent children heroes into a space academy for a while, then ship them off to a colony world! After all, how better to learn than to put your skills to the test, right? Take some of the training scenes from Ender's Game, maybe strip away some of the military aspects, tune it more towards a college-ish tone, build up some well-rounded scholars, builders, farmers, and the like, and toss them on their merry way. Obviously, not everything goes to plan because daily survival on a begrudgingly-hospitable planet isn't hard enough, right? Maybe our survivors are faced with some pirate assaults on their little colony (There's the Rimworld bit!), maybe they unearth some scary-ass space monsters, maybe they get straight up occupied by an Alien empire. Whatever! Colonies, man, they're wild!

Rebels! Blast 'em!: Fuck have I been in an absolute Star Wars tizzy lately! I blame The Mandalorian and Squadrons. And Jedi: Fallen Order. Okay, and The Old Republic MMO. And—Okay, you get the idea. Basically, the old addiction has reared its ugly, Bantha-looking head. I've got a few ideas here, mostly revolving around the age of the Empire/Rebellion, though you wouldn't have to try very hard to get me going on a Clone Wars Era story! I've really been looking to play an Imperial Intelligence agent on their quest to become something of an Imperial Hero. Because, hey, let's be real here, the Empire did nothing wrong. I'd also love to bring an Inquisitor into the fold eventually because, well, Fallen Order. Hopefully, though, we could treat the Force like the mystical space-wizard terror that it is, and focus more on the little people. I've always kind of hated that the Jedi/Sith get so normalized in the films. Especially in the Empire Era, Jedi were a fucking legend. Let's play around with some of that awe! Maybe our heroes (Who may just see each other as enemies!) end up on some crazy adventures in search of one of those legendary Jedi? The Intelligence agent tracking down their next promotion, a wannabe Jedi looking for a master? Maybe we do some bounty hunter guild stuff, with a notorious criminal taking shelter in Hutt space, only to be tracked down by the Empire who comes a-knockin', who subsequently get betrayed, trapped, and tossed into an arena by the guild—alongside their target? Daring escapes ensue! Maybe pull a Mandalorian and go for a heist or two? Yeah, I don't know. Y'know? Star Wars, man.

Lok'Tar Ogar!!!: Arright, I'll level with you on this one; I've been playing a lot of WoW lately. Damn Shadowlands hype finally got me to try it out and, well, you know how that goes. I'm not particularly well-versed in the proper game's lore (most of my, uh, "knowledge" coming from having played Hearthstone since the beta days), but it's still one hell of a vibey world, isn't it? I'd love to get something going in a similar vein, with crazy fantasy tales abound. I'm particularly feeling those awesome Tauren vibes at the moment, so maybe we could jam some tribal/Native-style stuff? A tribe, once reclusive, sees its members join the ride for some end-of-all-things war, only to become the heroes of an old prophecy and save everyone via some wild and daring adventures, helped every step of the way by unexpected friends? Y'know, like an unhinged version of LoTR!

The Long Dark: Based on, well, The Long Dark. Also some Day After Tomorrow vibes here! I kinda just want to go exploring and (more importantly?) surviving in a frozen world. Get some urban sledding going on, ducking into metro systems to weather a blizzard or two, looting the totally shatter-proof skyscrapers? Hell yeah. Maybe toss in some sp00ky monsters (something like the auditory predators in A Quiet Place?) and some wackadoo cannibalistic hunters and call it a day? Sounds good to me! Don't forget to bundle up out there!

Well, that's it! Do note, I'm more than open to any ideas you may be wanting to give a spin!

And hey, would you look at the time! It's, uh, a few hours after I started working on this. Wonderful.
Anyway! If any of you fantastic bastards are interested in anything, listed or not, feel free to shoot me a PM! I'd love it if you could ramble on about yourself for a bit, drop a sample or two if you're feeling frisky, and let me know what you're interested in!

...Well, this feels kind of anticlimactic, doesn't it?
Nevertheless, I hope to hear from some of ya! Thanks for reading, have a lovely day, and stay safe out there!
 
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Arise from the ashes, mighty thread, and heed my call!
Revamped, repolished, and ready to roll! It, uh, only took 3 years >.>
 
your bait brings fresh fish

I'm returning from a big hiatus, and my finals will soon lift. I'm interested!
 
Morning Bump Part 4: Wooaoaoaoah it's so early, look who kinda fixed his sleep schedule! Edition
 
I'm interested in the Ender's game inspired rp! It sounds like a lot of fun! (Also I love the style of your search post)
 
I'm interested in the Ender's game inspired rp! It sounds like a lot of fun! (Also I love the style of your search post)
So much of this sounds fun, I don't even know where to start!

Apologies for missing these, guys! Do feel free to shoot me a pm if you're still interested!

To the rest of y'all:
Evening Bump Part 3: This Time It's Cyberpunky Because I Can't Get Enough Please Feed My Addiction It's Not Scary Enough Yet! Edition
 
Hey there, your thread was interesting to read through. I'm looking for an MxM type of RP. The only idea I have is a job-type setting, most likely an office setting, but can be twisted with some fantasy if need-be. Would you be interested? Doesn't have to be romantic right away. That can always come in later on, but I was more interested in maybe having some friendly feels go on.
 
Well this is an inconveniently vague time for an update. What do you even call this? Late-Midday? Pre-Evening? Prevening? Who knows. Let's go with 'Not-Quite-Night' Bump Part 1: Consistency is Hard, Man! Edition

Still very much hunting for those C y b e r p u n k vibes, so keep 'em flowing!
 

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