Despite the title of our RP, this has no relation to Aldous Huxley and his works.

Introduction
Hi there! I'm glad that you showed enough interest in this particular RP to read this post, so let me introduce what we have planned!

Myself and some other writefags are organizing a Geopolitical Nation RP. Tech is modern to post-modern (present year in the RP is 2025. One of our former constituents had sci-fi airships, and that was REALLY pushing it, but it was still allowable. So take that into consideration). Some mysticism is allowed.

Wondering whether any other writers/role-players are interested. 4 people, including myself, are in our group, but we wanted to create a more stimulating experience with more people involved. You're able to create your own nation, own geography, and, hell, even your own ethnicities.

We have a map that we update regularly with modifications and additions, but it is not final. We're willing to accommodate to any reasonable request to better fit the geography of the nation that you want, so if you don't really like ANY of the land that you see, we're certainly open to modifying the continents currently on the map, or even adding new land.



Writing/Posting Method
Basically, we're going to write in an "entry post" system, which is actually pretty similar to what happens in forum based RPs. You write in a post the perspective of an individual that represents your nation. And when your post ends, another nation either responds to the actions of your nation, or just continues the roleplay's "storyline." Although (ironically considering our stance on over-aggression in this RP, which will be stated later), we do like to write about military conflict. But we also focus on other aspects and interactions as well. Some of us have done interview formats where we did a joint Google docs session, and solo entries of the political and economic actions of our nations.

But, yeah, half the things we're gonna come up with will probably be military conflict roleplay. Just a forewarning.

Oh, and it's recommended that you keep a guide or codex of sorts that contains the information and history of your nation, as writing it down makes it easier to retrieve and remember.

Note
Our group understands that roleplaying and writing can be a very fun and emotionally-invested experience. However, we have had a past history of writers that have created militarily-aggressive nations, and liked to take things rather too far as an extension of the characteristics of their nation, like acting over-aggressively/passive-aggressively OOC towards other writers.

This is an RP that likes to focus on the results and repercussions of actions, so over-aggression and intense focus on war production can very well result in the economic instability of a country. We also tend to personally frown on unnecessary over-aggression. As I have stated before, we have had a history of inexperienced writers basically creating militaristic socialist states that focused their entire economies on warfare, and conquest of other nations (in the modern day, mind you). There was even one nation that particularly liked to drop nerve gas on its neighbors at random. I mean, historically, nations have formed and consolidated themselves on the invasion of other lands and peoples, but it doesn't exactly create a very fun writing experience. What do you think this is, /pol/?

So, if you ARE going to have a militarily-aggressive state, please keep it to a certain level.

Requirements
Sadly, there are a few requirements.
1. Don't be a dick (Of course, this is implied and does not need to be stated, as you all are probably some pretty nice people. But we like to keep it pretty mellow in our group.)
2. Make sure that you have Discord. This is primarily the method of communication we're going to use.
3. Please visit the Discord group and write on a pretty regular basis. RPs aren't fun if there's nobody to write with!
4. Please respond below this post:
-Your name (what you want to be identified as. Though, in our Discord group we tend to use our real names, don't feel obligated to do the same if you feel uncomfortable sharing personal info)
-The name and short description of your nation
-A sample of your best writing. Although this is suppose to be an RP for fun, we wanted to maintain a certain standard of writing. And we felt the best way to do that is for new people to showcase their abilities! :)
-Your discord address
-Any questions

Hope to see some people join us for a rowdy, good time!

Here's a sample from one of our events:

Aboard the R.K.S. Jakob
Nunmul Sea
0510 hours
9th of November, 1890

If the stink of Skuldan harbor rubbish didn’t still pervade my senses, I would have thought I was home…

As the R.K.S. Jakob sailed away from the Skuldan coastline, Kaptain Friedrich Dostoyokoff leaned on the railing of the port bow and found his new surroundings eerily familiar. The polluted, murky depths of the Deep Sea, no doubt a by-product of the Skuldan’s primitive drive for war industrialization, began to clear into a sapphire blue. The turbulent rhythm of coastal waves calmed, and a colder, stiffer breeze began to sink through the layers of Dostoyokoff’s coat, reminding him of the native temperament of his own proud nation, Panzirion.

Dostoyokoff relished in the familiarity of this unexplored sea, but as tired and homesick as he was from his three month-long voyage from Panzirion to the Skuldan territories, he quickly ended his respite. He denied his sailors the usual shore leave of drink and women (though the case could be made that he saved his men from the septic horrors of Skuldan brothels), and instead ordered an immediate resupply and cast the crew and ship back into the sea.

He himself could hardly afford to be distracted from his task.

Three months ago, Dostoyokoff was one of several naval commanders tasked by the Royal Kyzar himself to gather men and a ship, and initiate an expedition for new lands to expand Panzirion’s influence beyond the ocean. Those that found fertile or amicable lands were to be commended with promotions and riches. But above all, they would have the honor to have faithfully executed the will of their Kyzar.

Most of the expeditionary groups were assigned the southern hemisphere, finding tropical islands, desert nations, and hazy jungles, all inhabited by savages that were easy enough for the expeditionary forces to pacify. But few others like Dostoyokoff were assigned the northern hemisphere, some already finding mountainous lands with seas of trees. But as Dostoyokoff docked on the Skuldan port, preparing to head further east, he had heard of rumors of an unfamiliar land further north called “Peodum.”

According to the brutish locals that called the port their home, this “Peodum” was a land of glaciers and “blood-stained” soil. And was almost always spoken of in a negative light. Or maybe not. Dostoyokoff always did have difficulty comprehending the disorganized mess that is Skuldan syntax.

Glaciers? Bloody soil? Dostoyokoff thought that it was perhaps a land that the Skuldans have been squabbling and killing each other over, as they usually do. But it did not sound like any one of those savages had claimed it yet. The prospect of a Panzirion Empire on both ends of the world, with brazen, glorious flames conquering the ice of the poles, had, to say the least, taken hold of Dostoyokoff’s mind.

Though initially rebuffed, Dostoyokoff had handsomely bribed one of the dockworkers to inform him of “Peodum.” His slurred ramblings informed Dostoyokoff that Peodum was across the Deep Sea that bordered the western Skuldan coastline. The Skuldan Navy heavily patrolled the area, however, so Dostoyokoff would have to exit the Deep Sea by heading south, pass all Skuldan lands, and head back up north in order to enter a body of water called the “Nunmul Sea.”

The Skuldan dockworker momentarily stopped, as if considering something, and started again with a hint of a smirk. He told of the natives that lived in Peodum, calling them “blue-skinned minges that worship puddles.”

When questioned on their technological state and armaments, the Skuldan simply laughed.
“I’m sure the superior Panziri Navy can hold their own against pagan tribes that like icicles up the arse more than cocks.”

Dostoyokoff swallowed his pride at the obvious insult, forced himself to thank the Skuldan with his reward, and swiftly returned to the Jakob with new orders. May the Kyzar forgive him for disobedience, but glory had ignited Dostoyokoff’s better judgement.

Now heading to Peodum, with the calm seas and arctic air cooling his head, Dostoyokoff couldn’t brush off what that dockworker said. He had a gut feeling there was more to the Skuldan’s sarcastic slander than face value.

Dostoyokoff’s thoughts were interrupted by faint whisps of fog passing by, later increasing in size and density into sea-level clouds. The fog became so thick, Dostoyokoff could barely view through the freezing sea ahead.

Swearing, Dostoyokoff briskly jogged to the bridge, and immediately boomed orders to the bridge stations in a succinct, rapid fashion, with responses reciprocated just as fast. The bridge became a choir acclimating to the tune of the deck bells.

“Quartermaster Yi, reduce speed to fifteen knots.”

“Fifteen knots. Aye, Kaptain,” chimed Yi, pulling back on the handle of the engine room telegraph.

“Midshipman Schneider, I want sailors posted forward, port, and starboard as look-outs for any icebergs or natives. Petty Officer Müller, I want as much illumination lit as we can. Lamps, torches, anything. And get a man on those foglights.”

Schneider and Karkoff each slipped out an “Aye aye, Kaptain!” as they exited the bridge and dodged bustling officers on the deck. Dostoyokoff directed his attention to navigations.

“Lieutenant Mikhailov, make sure we’re sailing straight. We’re going to have to guide this ship blind. If that Skuldan was right, we should be close to the coastline of this ‘Peodum.’”

Mikhailov nodded, instinctively tinkering with a sextant while eyeing the mast flag, “Aye Kaptain, we’ll keep the sails shut for now. We have a southwest wind at around… ten miles an hour.”

Dostoyokoff, barely out of breath, stepped up to the bridge window, and stared with a painted grimace.

No, this wasn’t like home at all. The fog back in Panziri was light and loosely swelled in the yellow amber of the rising sun, and was just simply familiar. This fog, however, was… primeval. The phenomenon was more like smoke rather than fog, and simply swallowed the once recognizable features of the horizon. Dostoyokoff was able to view a few miles ahead of the R.K.S. Jakob, but past that, an ominously billowing fog blended the seascape with a greying sky.

“Keep heading north. If we don’t see land in an hour, we’re heading back to strangle tha-”

Schneider burst onto the bridge with a spyglass in hand, and shouted, “Kaptain, three large masses sighted off the forward bow!”

“Alright, icebergs are simple enough to avoid. Quartermaster Yi, turn port side at-”

“Kaptain… those ‘icebergs’... are moving.”

Dostoyokoff stuttered, “Wha- What?”

“Sir, those aren’t icebergs.”

And that’s when Dostoyokoff, and the rest of the bridge, saw it.

Or rather them.

The tips of three bows pierced the fog, slowly revealing their foreign bodies. Panziri navy vessels are designed to be clean-cut, stylish, and orderly, with the forward mast proudly presenting the flag of the Royal Kyzar and the sails and paddle motor out in the open, daring any to approach within range to disable them. These ships were the opposite. The bows were inverted, with the tips of decorated rams dragging through the water. The engines were hidden, deep in their maws, with the only hints of their existence revealed through the billowing steam from the exhausts. They were designed for cold pragmatism rather than fiery pride.

Cannons upon cannons. Plating upon plating. Support spines along the port and starboard sides, like ribs of predatory sea-life. And in between the ships, netting, no doubt to entrap the Jakob.

At first Dostoyokoff cursed the treachery of the Skuldans. They were pirating reavers. Low-life scum. Dishonorable vermin. They tricked Dostoyokoff into entering empty waters so they could raid his vessel.

But he viewed an unfamiliar flag on the sail-less mast of the alien vessels. A crowned, black hand rising among blue fields.

No… this isn’t like home at all. We should never have come here.

Dostoyokoff, steadying his voice, quietly ordered, “Schneider, notify Master-at-Arms Karkoff, load the cannons and empty the armory. We found the natives.”

Ignore this post, I accidentally this post.