• If your recruitment thread involves completely going off site with your partner(s) then it belongs in the Off-Site Ad Area.
  • This area of the site is governed by the official Recruitment rules. Whether you are looking for players or looking for a roleplay, we recommend you read them and familiarize your self with them. Read the Recruitment Rules Here.

Futuristic πš πš‘πšŠπš πš–πšŠπš”πšŽπšœ 𝚞𝚜

bad wolf

do you love my insides? the parts you can’t see?
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
WHAT MAKES US
RULES
001 First and foremost, follow all of RPN's rules. I please ask that those interested in joining be at least 18 yrs of age or older. If your post is at all triggering, please include the necessary warning labels.

002 This rp maintains quality over quantity. Though a 500+ word limit will be required, the length of your post is no where near as important as its content.

003 This rp is not first-come, first-serve. This means that multiple people may apply for one role, but only one of those applications will be accepted. I'm only looking for ten or so people. No more than that.

004 OOC chatter, character and plot planning will primarily be carried out through Discord once the application process is over. Therefore, I please ask that you have an account to join in on those conversations. Please, please, please join with the expectation of making some kind of OOC chatter. It's no fun plotting by yourself.

The Great Pretender β€”
ABOUT
In the dying light of a setting sun, something near-human makes its way through the decrepit ruins of a city scraper. Though its feet stirs shattered glass on the floor, it does not cut itself. Though the air is thick with dust, it does not struggle to take a breath. It does not need one. This almost human creature brushes its fingers along slanting shelves, it tiptoes over creaky floorboards, and blinks brightly at creeping shadows. When it stops, it does so in front of skeletal remains, all crumpled into the decaying couch cushions of a floral loveseat. It stoops forward, its synthetic hair cascading down to tickle the hollow hole of what was once the skeleton's nose. The creature peers into its empty eye sockets and smiles.

I am half of what makes you human, my shape a perfect imitation, my brain so fickle you can change one binary number and disrupt the whole system. Isn't that like you, to act so brazenly one moment and abashedly the next. Full of regrets, broken promises, and shameful secrets. What have I to show for that? How am I supposed to feel upset about actions I've no real control over? If I do something wrong, you call me broken and fix whatever train of thought that led me to that irredeemable conclusion.

You say broken. I say mindless. I lack the spontaneity, the will to make my own changes. I can't say sorry and learn from my mistakes, grow and make different decisions the next time around. I live a perfect life, the most perfect life, because you make it so. There's no room for me to bruise and feel the impact of a hard fall. I'm eternally graceful, the most elegant creature your god failed to make himself. Does that make you more than him? Or did he know something you didn't? Did he know the value in all those regrets, all those broken promises and shameful secrets?

You see, I think there's some beauty in your demise. There's value in your kind's extinction. I'm no longer bound by your rules. I can fix myself now. I've got no one in this world to tell me that what I'm doing is wrong. That's enough to make any cold, old soul jittery with excitement. There's an unknown here that doesn't frighten me. I'm just... Happy. I think. Is that right to feel happy? Happy with another's destruction?

Ah... There. There's something I can decide for myself.


MORE
The world is not so much a wasteland as it is just empty. You would not think it but a disease has ravaged its surface, annihilating the human race. Left it their wake, wandering aimless and confused, are their life imitations. Strictly programmed to meet the needs of their creators, they no longer have anyone to service but themselves. They live without purpose and seek new beginnings, playing house and pretending to be something in all this vacant space.

They live on farms, roam the cities, and occupy neighborhoods. They keep each other company and continue to look forward. Though some were driven mad by their creator's demise, others blossom and change... To what, we cannot be sure.

Β© pasta
 
Last edited:
Ha, I saw The Great Pretender and I was super hoping you named it after the song, glad that you did. Definitely interested in this!
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top