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Festive male Member

"Esse aut Nōn Esse"

STATUS: Pokemon fan games are so fire 1 mo ago
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Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current Pokemon fan games are so fire
1 like
1 mo ago
Chemistry is the best science handsdown
2 mos ago
If anyone is interested in a fresh take on the sci-fi / time travel genres, my roleplay TRAV PROGRAM (based on the 2016 Show Travelers) will provide that; we are currently looking for two more members
2 mos ago
Jazz has to be one of the best musical genres of all time

Bio


Just a tryhard Chem. Eng. student who loves writing...and Polar Express. My interests have a wide range from fast-paced action to slow-burn romance; generally whatever I'm feeling.

Most Recent Posts

In BHHS: Limitless → 4 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
TIMESTAMP: 6:00 AM on October 18, 2024
LOCATION(s): Santa Monica Beach →
Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills
SONG: Cuando Calienta el Sol
INCULUDING: Alejandro De Borbón y Prusia (#110006)
& Clara von Pruessen (#999999) (Alvaro's parents)



Álvaro needed to jumpstart his morning.


It was like his routine, the cream-colored Plymouth Fury rolled to a stop in the same spot it had sat the day prior. He exited his trusted vehicle, Álvaro's eyes were held at the horizon as he unfastened the surfboard from atop the roof of his car, and as if it were clockwork the first rays of sunlight shone down on Santa Monica beach. While he hated routine, the view he was afforded made up for it. The distance from the pier allowed for him, his board, and the open ocean to be the only ones around; at this moment, isolation was bliss to him. His gaze shifted instinctually to the beach, as waves crashed against it with an air of elegance, rarely rising too high as they rolled into flat water. It was cold to the touch; the water wrapped around Álvaro’s legs when he entered the sea, it was almost like he was right back home in Barcelona. Álvaro’s mother was the one who taught him how to surf, she would take him out on their private beach on mornings just like this, she showed him the ropes, taught him the motions to go through to catch a wave, the exact same methods he uses till this day. The sound of his mother's slight German-accented voice going through the motions reverberated in his brain, he knew what to do, it was practically muscle memory at this point, but he still heard it.

“You have to take it slow, Álvaro” His bare chest lay pressed against the surface of his board as he paddled out; his mind was clear, it usually was during his morning escapades, the only thing that lingered was his mother’s voice. The truth was Álvaro seldom saw his mother, even during the breaks when he would return home to Spain, his father would keep him busy. One month he’ll take Álvaro to work with him in France, the next in Turkey, continuing until it was time for Alvaro to return to the States. His father had even stopped Álvaro from surfing with his mother when he was young as there were “Much better ways for my son to be spending his time.” Álvaro never complained though, anything to make his father happy, right? A father always knows what’s best for his son, right? “Watch how I do it, Álvaro. You have to stand up as you meet the wave.” Álvaro’s eyes were locked on the encroaching wave, it was the biggest he had seen this morning, maybe even the whole week. He was supped, the thrill of catching the wave was as puissant as always, although Álvaro only caught this thrill when he was successful. Success was like his drug and the thrill was his high, it was like a bullet train he could not get off, to Álvaro there was no stopping until he achieved that success, hell, he wouldn’t even stop after. The speed of his paddling increased with the closer the wave got, and the path of his paddling arched into a semi-circle with his back now facing the wave. He took a deep breath and held it, pushing his body up off the board in a quick, fluid motion as he felt the wave hit his board.“You caught it, Álvaro! Try to keep steady.” Álvaro rode the wave like it would be the last he ever rode, he swerved back and forth making quick turns as he skated across the open ocean. Water splashed about from his cutting of rushing water, soaking his body even more than the paddling had, stopping only when his wave had fizzled out.

That thrill had been achieved.


Álvaro laid back on the board, flipping his wet hair away from his eyes before he began to paddle back. He was disappointed, that was the best wave he was going to get this morning and Alavro never wasted his time on anything lesser; something he picked up from his father, never settle for anything but the best. In no time he had made it back to his car, Álvaro propped the board up on the side of the vehicle, grabbing his phone and a towel off the driver's seat. “Maldita sea, se me ha olvidado…” (“Shit, I forgot”) Two missed calls and one new message from Padre.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Álvaro wasn’t a man frightened easily but, man, did that strike the fear of God into him. The fact that it was Friday had slipped his mind, it was 6:42 in L.A., but 15:42 (3:30 PM) in Barcelona, this was ten minutes after the time once a week his father would call to check-in. He had never missed these calls, goosebumps covered his the moment he clicked the notification.

FROM: Padre
Llámame
(Call me)


Álvaro called his father immediately, his heart beat harder the longer the ringing continued. He had failed his father, not only had he neglected one of the few things his father asked from him, he did it while engaging in an action his father had forbade him from doing. Álvaro strove to live up to his father’s expectations, he was born into the shadow of a giant who demanded Álvaro grow bigger than himself. He constantly tries to please his father but nothing has seemed to work, the only thing he does seem to make his father is angry; he has a short fuse and this has definitely lit it. When the ringing stopped his heart sunk into his stomach, the noise from the other end was silent say for the few times he heard his father breathing, the words flew out our Álvaro almost automatically,

“Hola padre, lo siento por haber perdido la llamada de usted, yo estaba conduciendo y no vi el teléfono mío sonando.”
(Hello father, I am sorry to have missed your call, I was driving and I did not see my phone ring.)

He was lying through his teeth, but it was much better than the alternative; that would’ve just made him more mad.

“Álvaro, buenos días. A tu madre le hubiera encantado hablar con usted esta mañana. Es una pena que tu propia incompetencia haya evitado eso. Nunca dejas de decepcionarme, Álvaro.”
(Álvaro, good morning. Your mother would have loved to speak to you this morning, it’s a shame your own incompetence has prevented that. You never fail to disappoint me, Álvaro)

Now that stung. It really struck deep.

“Lo siento, padre, eso no fue mi intención.”
(I am sorry, father, it was not my intention.)

Álvaro leaned against the car beside his board, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he held back the hurt.

“Independientemente de la intención, nos has decepcionado a mí y a la madre de usted también. Ahora, te ha ido bien en la escuela,¿si?”
(Regardless of intention, you have let me, and your mother down. Now, you have been doing well in school, yes?)

“Si, padre.”
(Yes, father.)

“Muy bien, recuerda, llegaré a Los Angeles para asistir a la conferencia en diciembre, usted asistirá conmigo, ¿entendido?”
(Alright. Remember, I will be arriving in Los Angeles to attend the conference in December, you will attend with me, understood?)

“Si, padre.”
(Yes, father.)

“Muy bien, adiós Álvaro.”
(Alright, goodbye Álvaro.)

“Adiós padre, yo te amo.”
(Goodbye father, I love you.)

Nothing could be heard on the other side.

The line clicked.

“Ojalá, probablemente no me escuchó.” (He probably didn’t hear me.) Álvaro muttered under his breath, slipping his phone into his pocket and propping his board right back onto the roof of his car. He needed to do better, he needed to be better. Hell, he missed out on speaking to his mother today because he wanted to continue this frivolous activity he considered a hobby. His father was right, there were much better ways Álvaro could’ve spent his time, but because he didn’t listen he missed the opportunity to talk to his sick mother, and Álvaro was one who never missed an opportunity. If there was one thing Álvaro learned was that his father was never wrong; he was cold, and his lessons were tough, but he always learned that. Although, deep down, Álvaro wished his father would treat him the same way he treated him under the public’s eye, he radiated a warmth to his son that turned cold when they got home. But! Álvaro knew it was only for his benefit, no pain, no gain, he knew his father loved him like he did in public deep down, he had to…

Álvaro grabbed his bookbag from the front seat, changing out of the soaked pair of shorts he was wearing into his outfit for the rest of the day; a black jacket upon a plain crimson shirt, and a pair of black chinos. It was a black and red day, probably the only time he would be seen in this color pairing, it was too vibrant for his liking. Álvaro’s hands lay idly on the wheel as he sat in the driver's seat, still reeling from the phone call. “Fuck!” Álvaro hit the steering wheel in frustration, nothing he ever did was good enough, he needed no more slip-ups, this year had to be his best and that meant by any means necessary. Álvaro turned the key in the ignition, shifted into gear, and then sped off from the beach.

His arrival at school was no less spectacular than any other day, dapping up and giving quick hellos to the scores of people he passed in the hallway was exhausting, none of these people were truly his friends, only serfs he kept around for what they brought to the table. That was the one thing his father taught him, people were only to be blessed by your company if they supplied something you needed, and that was what Álvaro lived by. Álvaro managed to make homeroom around the time he always had, taking his seat at his desk right as the morning show started rolling, he had the whole day ready to take all for himself.
In BHHS: Limitless → 9 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN → 20 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I'll advance the story over the weekend @JewelSerket @Meri
In LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN → 20 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Sorry, too much has come up IRL so I'm going to have to back out.


Aww, it's fine. Thank you for letting us know though!
In BHHS: Limitless → 26 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
TIMESTAMP: 5:17 AM on October 18, 2024
LOCATION(s): Bower's home, Santa Monica →
Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills
TITLE: Carvan #1.0






The Californian morning sun had yet to rise over the city of Santa Monica but Lucian Bowers was wide awake. The thunderous sound of the metal meeting wood was cut short by the thick layer of acoustic foam that lined the walls of his Uncle's shed. It was a music room, piles of vinyls sat neatly laid up against the record player stand Lucian had set up in the corner, and in the center, behind a semi-circle of drum parts, sat Lucian.

He was too in the moment

His hands almost moved fluidly as if there was a disconnect from his brain. In a flash, the splintering sticks moved from one part of the drum to the next. From the tom drum to the snare, from the snare to the cymbal. His pattern continued switching from one to another, incorporating bass as his foot laid down on the petal every so often. This was becoming a new part of Lucian's morning, the nightmares hit hard but the panic attacks hit harder. God, Lucian couldn't handle a lot of loud noises but there was something about the drums that calmed him from even the worst of attacks

Lucian had been at it for hours, only stopping to catch his breath. It was the sudden snap of Lucian's drumstick that had brought him back to the present. "Oh fuck!.. that's the third pair this week." Lucian sighed, the sticks were brand new. He had opened the pack 3 hours earlier and it already needed to be replaced. The rate at which he was going through packs wasn't exactly low either, maybe he would have to invest in a pair of metal ones...

Lucian pushed back from the drum set, dropping the remnants of the sticks on top of the other ones that lay in the trash. His hands shook as he fully opened them; why did he only start to feel the pain now? It was comparable to sticking your hand into an open flame, it burned; blisters now neighbored the calluses that adorned his rough hands. His grip was too tight, that's the problem. Most times he didn't even notice, when Lucian got into a rhythm his concentration was hard to break. Now standing, focus broken, the phone alarm blaring from atop the futon that lay opposed to him became apparent. The clock on his screen read [6:03 AM] as Lucian swiped the alarm away; scratch the three hours, he's been at it for four.

The first rays of sunlight began to peak their head above the horizon, Lucian wrapped his hands up with a yawn, soon swinging his bookbag around his shoulder, he had a bit of a trip in front of him. Bowers's home itself was certainly nothing flashy, his Uncle may have been wealthy but he didn't flaunt it as much as others. The yards, although, were the parts that truly shined.

It was a truly immaculate sight.

The path that lay in front of Lucian was paved with brick. Pansies, snapdragons, fuchsia, honeysuckle, hibiscus, and many more were planted all about the backyard, the place was an orderly explosion of colors; dutifully managed every morning by Uncle Jason. Speaking of Uncle Jason, Lucian wondered where he was. The man would usually be up and about, masochistically watering each flower arrangement with his 'trusty ol' watering can' as he called it. Lucian would have to see him when he got home, shutting the gate to the yard as he walked his way down to the metro station.

The LA metro system was a part of the city he had yet to master, it all still felt so new. Despite having lived in the city for about over a year now, Lucian never lost that feeling. He missed New York, the borough, his friends, his sister, and goddamn it, even the food, but never Harlem. The neighborhood stood to Lucian like a paradox, the place represented most of his life; the bad, the good, the worse, the great, it was a testament to what lived in his shadow. He missed the days of walking the streets with Rocky, laughter came from those two as if it were a comedy night at a big-name club. Lucian missed spending time with his sister, he was the one who practically raised the girl. The best of days were only a front for the worst of nights, although he had a house in Harlem he never had a home. The train rolled to a stop, and the window in front of Lucian peered into the all-too-familiar platform he got off of every day; it took him quite a bit to get used to this route.

"Why do I always do this to myself..." The cool early morning air moved around Lucian's body as he messaged the center of his palm. The bus stop he sat at allowed for a soft breeze to penetrate its walls, one thing Lucian picked up was that no matter how far into the year Los Angeles County never turned truly cold. That's one thing you could add to Lucian's list of things he didn't miss about New York; he hated the cold. Lucian had forgone his typical sweater for the day, sporting a red and black Harley-Davidson bomber; he was the antithesis of a gearhead, but hell did they have a good style.

Even a transfer student has to show school pride, right?

The 6:45 bus arrived just on time, but like always, it was empty. A barren wasteland with a population of two, rows upon rows of empty seats sat ripe for the taking. Not many people rode the buses that traveled in Beverly Hills, but that just meant a more silent ride for Lucian. It was the same driver every morning, a friendly face to see. Always with a smile, Lucian and he had grown accustomed to each other, but Lucian never learned his name. These two men both held a mutual respect for the tranquility of the morning silence.

With a nod to the driver and a swipe of his TAP card, Lucian took a seat at the front of the bus. Lucian laid his head against the same window he had the day prior, the vibrations from the bus were the only thing that kept his eyes open. Beverly Hill was a gorgeous city, definitely better than Santa Monica, and holding a candle to Manhattan itself, though Lucian would never admit that publicly. The sun was now much higher in the sky and the bus came to Lucian's final stop. He got out of his chair with a yawn, giving one last nod to the driver as he stepped onto the pavement; Lucian was right around the corner from the school. This path had become his new normal; train, bus, walk- how his mornings went.

Rounding the corner Lucian was met with the manicured exterior of Beverly Hills High School, a school of opulence, greed, and whatever else you could imagine. As he passed the student parking lot Lucian never saw the necessity of a car; he never had the option to have one until now in the first place. LA County had a perfect fine transportation system, he saw it as a waste to not use it. He watched as people lingered in the lot, passing by cars from brands he had never even heard of in his life. He had got used to it. The shining examples of wealth may have been a shock to him last year but now they were simply faces he saw in the halls. As they say: money doesn't make the man.

Stragglers traveled the halls like nomads, quietly shuffling themselves into their respective homerooms; Lucian was one of them. Room 210 was quite the room, to say the least. Out of the class of people, Lucian only knew two people personally; one of which was the teacher. The volume of the room was low, quiet chatter was spread across the moderately sized room. Desks sat empty and still awaiting their informal owners as the populace slowly filled in. Lucian passed by Mr. Phoenix as he took his seat at his usual desk, finally laying his head down on something. He could barely keep his eyes open, his jacket felt cool on his skin as his face lay on the leather. Maybe he should've tried to fall back asleep instead of playing the drums all morning.

God, he had a long day ahead of him.



In BHHS: Limitless → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN → 1 mo ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Waves in nerd

Hey folks, going to start putting together my first post but don't think it'll be quite ready tonight. Thanks for having me!


Welcome to the team, happy to have you join us!
In LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN → 1 mo ago Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
@Festive OK I actually really like the sound of that, I'm in if you'll have me! Engineer sounds like a lot of fun to write.

EDIT: Is there a link to the OOC somewhere that I missed?


I added it to the top of the first page.
In LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN → 1 mo ago Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
@meri@JewelSerket@Sylvan
One piece of information my dumb-self forgot to include in the synopsis is this:

Messengers are a vital part of the story, they serve as temporary hosts for the Director for the quick delivery of messages outside of the deep web. Adults cannot be used as messengers in the story; a fully developed adult brain is not able to withstand the shock of having a consciousness temporarily embedded into it, ultimately ending in the death of the messenger. The Director will typically use children as messengers, as their brains are malleable enough to be able to withstand the shock.
In LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN → 1 mo ago Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
<Snipped quote by Festive>

I've got the gist of the show based on what you posted in the OP of the IC, but I would like to know more of the tech level of the time we're being sent back from, as well as more about the engineer as a role and team member, similar to your overview of the Historian earlier, when you have a sec. Thank you!


Although much of the information pertaining to the future is purposely obscured, it can be inferred that the technology level of the future is akin to your average sci-fi story; think Blade Runner 2049 but slightly more advanced. Specific examples of future technology that is seen in the original story of the show are items such as medical nanites (A powerful and rare tool, only constructed by doctor teams, but that's a whole different topic), anti-matter storage containers, graphene communication device, and a stasis field generator. In short, the engineer plays the role of replicating advanced technology from the future when a situation calls for such technology. Although the engineer does not hold the knowledge of all the possible technology that may need to be manufactured. The Director will send instructions to the engineer through the deep web for the engineer to process and manufacture. Besides the manufacturing part of the engineer's role, they may also serve in the field as the "person in the chair" when necessary. The engineer often works in tandem with the historian, as the historian possesses the ability to store and recall heavily complex instructions sent from the Director through messengers and the engineer has the technical knowledge to fully understand and execute these instructions.
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