compass

Hi, I'm BACK!

@compass Hey, back. How's your spine feeling?

@Iuniper

omg... i can't top that

Person of Interest-- another cell of the Machine's agents!

Hi there! My name is Jamie (she/her/hers). I am a college student who is finally back on RPGuild after a couple of years away o_o

Let's make this short: I am really into the idea of doing a Person of Interest story where we are another cell of the Machine's agents operating out of a different city. This would take place after the finale of the show, giving us plenty of creative freedom with the plot. I don't have specifics in mind yet but I would love to bounce some ideas around with whoever is interested. I envision this as being a squad of up to 5 people.

It just so happens that you would be able to participate in this even if you haven't seen POI. Why? Because the plot of POI is pretty simple (SPOILERS): post-9/11, an unassuming computer scientist created an artificial intelligence system that was so powerful, it tapped into every cell phone, surveillance system, credit card company, etc. across the U.S. It monitors all of this information, identifying people who are likely to soon commit premeditated crimes, or be victims of them. It spits the identities of these people out as social security numbers, and its agents work to prevent disasters from happening. They operate outside of the law, using the Machine's guiding hand to complete impossible tasks.

Some house rules:
- Advanced. I mean this in quality but also would love if we could do a 2+ paragraph rule for quantity as well. I'm here for fun and writing practice. I also really appreciate decent grammar and spelling (not that I claim to be perfect at either), but these kinds of errors can be forgiven as long as the good intentions are there. :)
- Posting several times a week. I will probably post during my free time at work and not so much after work. I think I personally will be able to do at least 1 post per workday, but that doesn't mean I expect the same of you all. If you could give me 4-5 posts a week, that would be fabulous. And of course I understand that we all have our own lives and schedules, so I'm definitely really chill about this.
- Profanity is fine with me. My only request is that you don't size-18 your profanity on me because I will be at work when browsing the thread o_o
- Respect, inclusivity, and fun are my holy trinity :)
- Queer/POC/anything characters and writers welcome.

That is all, I think. Let me know if you're interested. Would love to chat with you all about ideas.

Compass's RP interest check! (Including: Person of Interest fandom RP)

A writing sample from ~2 years ago (o_o). This is not my usual writing style, and I actually wouldn't assume this character or setting again probably. But this can show you some of the effort I put in in a typical post.

~*~*~*~*~*~October, 1745~*~*~*~*~*~

The western frontier was growing ominously crisper as the year went on. Summer had faded away into the beginnings of the colder months. The landscape of those fecund Appalachian hills had already drooped into states of orange and red and dryness. The air held a tightness to itself as if Mother Nature were bracing for the oncoming winter. As Esther Leigh looked out the window of her family's modest cabin nestled in the seclusion of western Virginia, she fretted over her household's preparations. No one would guess, however, except maybe for her husband Francois; Esther rarely abandoned her stoic countenance, even during the most troubling and adverse times.

The wind was in a hurry, rushing through the valley, shaking up the potato leaves, but leaving the busy river undisturbed. Esther grabbed the shawl she knitted last year and wound it over her shoulders. Then, she stepped out into the October world. She could hear the sounds of her husband's boots crackling through the coat of dry leaves on the ground. Rounding the corner, she found Francois with a wet sack slung over his shoulder. "Good morning, darling," he greeted plainly enough. Esther could smell the fish from several feet away; she forwent hugging him, instead allowing him to simply slip inside to deposit the fish somewhere. Then, Esther approached the back of their cabin. Nathaniel and Abigail were sitting on the ground among the leaves. They were close together and had their necks craned toward each other, no doubt confiding some deep, scandalous secret with each other. When they heard their mother's footfalls, Abigail leaped to her feet and sheepishly threw her hands behind her back. Nathaniel watched her with alarm, squirming on the ground.

"Got something, Abigail?" their mother asked keenly, eyeing them with playful suspicion. Abigail shook her head violently, and in the process, let loose what had been in her hands. A brown bullfrog gave an effortful groan and leaped from the girl's grasp. It dotted away from them, disappearing somewhere behind a rock by the river. Nathaniel gave an exasperated screech, falling onto his back, while his sister adopted an expression as if she had been personally wronged by the amphibian. Esther allowed a smile to morph her normally plastered stoic face. "Come inside, we have salting to do," she advised, gesturing for her children to follow. The children were obedient when it came to their father and submissive when it came to Esther, and so they marched dutifully towards the door.

Compass's RP interest check! (Including: Person of Interest fandom RP)

Hello there! This is my first time back to RPGuild in a long time. I have a lot of free time during work this summer, and I want to spend it being creative, so here I am!

To start off: my name is Jamie (she/her/hers) and I'm a college student. If you want to learn more about me you can check out my introduction linked below, but really you're here for the stories, right? :D

One quick thing is that you'll see this is tagged as both 1x1 and Small Group, so if you're interested in doing a 1x1 with me, let me know, but if you're really into any of these ideas as a group project I am also open to that.

I am open to many ideas, but here are some guidelines:
1. Advanced style. I am looking for quality, and a little quantity (2+ paragraphs). I am doing this for fun and for practice so hopefully we have similar goals!
2. Can post throughout the work week. Most of my posts will happen 8:00 - 4:30 PM EST, as I tend to have free time at work but not so much after work. I don't need like 3 posts a day, but if you could do 1+ daily or ~4 a week that would be fantastic. Of course I understand we all have our own lives and schedules, so I'm not strict!
3. Be ready to have fun! Yay!
4. Nothing too rated-M, just because I will be on these forums during work. Feel free to swear and such but please don't size-18 your profanity o_o

I hope you're still reading, because here are the ideas. I would love to bounce ideas around with you, about these or anything else.
- Sci-fi adventuring gang, darting through space in a small spacecraft. Perhaps we are pirates, bounty hunters, pilgrims... who knows?
- Person of Interest fandom story, where we are another cell of the Machine's agents working to save some numbers! This is probably the one I am most excited about just because I adore POI, and I think the premise would actually offer a lot of freedom for us to design our characters and engineer the plot in unique ways.
- Post-apocalyptic story where, decades after human society crumbles as a result of a worldwide energy blackout, people reform into low-level communities in walled settlements to survive and scavenge. I envision this as having an emphasis on community building, politics, morality..
- Small group D&D adventuring. So I am absolutely so new to D&D so this would have to be pretty low-level D&D stuff and someone else would have to DM. I am still kind of learning how to play, as in, I have not completed a campaign yet. This probably would be impossible to get started just because of those two stipulations, but I thought I'd put it out there anyway :)
- Open to romance but not to anything that is the "romance genre", that is, centered on romance. If we decide to go there that would be cool, but I don't want to start out with it being the main premise.

And that's all! Let me know what you think and what ideas you have. Please introduce yourself and let me know your pronouns, if you'd like. Thanks!
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My intro: https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/164572-hi-im-back/ooc#post-4344044

Hi, I'm BACK!

Hi there! My name is Jamie (or Compass) and I use she/her/hers pronouns (please tell me your pronouns!). I've actually been a member of RPG for 1117 days but this is my first time back in I think 2 whole years, so I thought I'd turn a new leaf and reintroduce myself.

I'm a college student in the U.S. studying computer science and comparative literature. My dream is to make awesome narrative-focused games that tell great stories, make people laugh, make people cry, and make people want to go out there and write their own stories, too. I'm spending this summer working in a library and doing independent study on game development. During the school year, I'm usually disgustingly busy, but I like to take creative breaks to write or journal or just watch some TV and let my brain stew in its own cortisol-rich soup.

I'm hoping to use this summer to reignite my creativity, starting here, on RPGuild! Coming back here will, I hope, be an opportunity to hone my writing skills, get creative, and have a ton of fun.

Thanks for reading!

P.S. I have posted an interest check now!
https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/164574-compasss-rp-interest-check-including-person-of-interest-fandom-rp/ooc

Looking for RP partner-- please take a look bud.

Sounds awesome! I will PM you.

At The Scimitar's Edge (A Golden Age of Piracy RP)

(("Just because I call you vulture doesn’t mean you have to screech like one." I DIED LAUGHING.))

Mabel listened to Douglas's justifications, and while she begrudgingly admitted to herself that he had a point, she was not consoled. "Fucks, whatever," she groaned, disentangling one hand from her crossed arms to swat the matter away. Her lips smeared together in a pouty, disgruntled way for a moment. MacNichol's vulture jokes were not the first time her countenance-- or appearance, rather-- were attacked, but it did get tiresome at times. She adjusted the brim of her hat, which had gone askew during her escape from Bogart's tavern, and reviewed the fragments of information she garnered. In the game of espionage, it is always best to know to trust one's ears. Still, Mabel couldn't help but worry that she had heard things wrong, that the information she was about to relay to her partner in this sensitive endeavor was not accurate.

"What I heard... What it sounded like was three men plotting the takeover. Jackham, Pillsy, and Marco. You saw 'em." Her hand wound around the handle of her weapon. "They're debating whether to grab hold when we're out at sea or ashore somewheres, and they're smart enough to know the advantages and disadvantages of both. Jafferty's in on this scheme, too, that craven sonuvabitch." Jafferty was, perhaps, the only person aboard the Trident that Mabel never gave a second glance. Of all the pirates she had ever known, Jafferty was the least threatening. He was the ship's cook. He had been accused of hiding in the kitchens during a raid more than once, and he gossiped worse than the faux-ladies Mabel had known, for a short time, after marrying into the Blakes. "One of 'em was saying-- Pillsy, probably, since I didn't hear Marco's accent-- was saying that Jafferty wanted to hire the Crookeds to take care of things for 'em. They shut the idea up pretty swift."

Now came the part with Douglas. She rested her hands on her hips and regarded the Scotsman with her eyes this time; previously she had been shifting her gaze left and right around them to be sure no one was eavesdropping. "They're suspicious of you, Scotsman. I don't think they know why yet, but they got a feeling. Probably from walking into Bogart's and seeing you contenting all the other sailors?" she suggested. She shrugged. Mabel wasn't quite sure why anyone would be suspicious of MacNichols. It was her understanding that he was a generally well-loved sailor with an aversion to squabbling. Perhaps I'm missing something, Mabel wondered, beginning to gnaw the inside of her lip. Still, she had to make sure her only partner in this wasn't going to be dropped. "So what're you going to do about it?" There wasn't exactly a compassionate concern in her voice. It was more like the edge to a gambler's groan when they've got too much money resting on inauspicious cards.

Looking for RP partner-- please take a look bud.

Bump.
Still interested folks! And I'm open to more ideas if anyone has any.

At The Scimitar's Edge (A Golden Age of Piracy RP)

Mabel tried to ignore the dull sting in her ankles. She made a somewhat awkward landing from the veranda roof, but fortunately she wasn't in too much pain to keep her from moving quickly towards the hill. Night had completely taken over, casting an ominous velveteen sheet over the world. She could see slivers of the sea between the silhouettes of buildings, and she was reminded of how black and abyssal the open waters seemed when the moon was scarce. She remembered her first dip in the crow's nest, just a few weeks into her coming aboard the Trident. Looking out around herself and seeing nothing but this monstrous expanse of hungry dark liquid with only a sliver of ship beneath her feet, she had never felt so terrified. And so exhilarated.

Fortunate smiled upon Mabel, it seemed, when she made it to the outskirts of town without any commotion. The last dozen or so yards she checked over her shoulder frequently to make sure no one was tailing her, and it seemed she was in the clear. When she saw the figure of a man on the hill, she let out a sigh of relief. So MacNichols had at least a short-term memory. Even this could be reassuring, though Mabel put very little stock in it. As she approached, her eyes adjusted to notice how he stood with his legs apart, shoulders hunched, hands close to his body, and she realized he was taking a piss. She didn't care, so she marched right up the hill and called out to him. "MacNichols." He had a floundering sort of stance now, an unsteadiness that everyone could recognize as drunkenness. "Oh, piss, mate!" she snarled, fingers twisting into claws that jabbed once at the air. "You gotten yourself drunk?!" There was a bottle by his feet. Though it stood upright, it was balanced precariously on the curve of the hill. Mable stamped over and delivered a swift and angry kick to the base of the bottle, catapulting it several feet away from them. It landed on its neck, tumbled over, and all the brown drink inside burbled out into the grass. "Dammit, MacNichols, I need you sharp. You're in danger, y'know." She shifted her weight onto her back foot and crossed her arms, peering sharply at the Scotsman under the brim of her hat. Her jaw was set to the side, but there was no metallic glint visible in her eyes; she could only get so mad at a pirate for overdrinking.

At The Scimitar's Edge (A Golden Age of Piracy RP)

Mabel harbored a feeling close to envy as she watched the Scotsman negotiate with the two sailors. He made it look so easy, sidling up to the two men with a drink in hand, dodging arguments with them and placating their dissatisfaction with a short conversation. She knew she'd never be able to win that way, and it pissed her off. It seemed Mabel was destined for a life of doing things the hard way. Despite her bitterness, though, Mabel was impressed with the man. She certainly thought she had chosen a good partner for this endeavor, one that complemented her own abilities. Things seemed to be going well until Pegleg and his two fellows clacked in. She felt the tension expand instantaneously, even amidst the merry clamor of the tavern and the comfortable semi-content MacNichols had just instilled in the crew. Jackham had his hands on his hips and elbows fanned out to give him the appearance of a stout diamond. With that characteristic hunkering walk of his, he made his way over to the stairs. Mabel leaned farther into the wall, hiding deeper in the shadows under the staircase so as to hide from the trio's sight. She wasn't entirely sure if they saw her or not, especially since they seemed rather unblemished by alcohol this evening.

She listened to all three of them go up the stairs. They hadn't bothered to stop at the bar or pat some of the other patrons on the backs before going; clearly they had some pressing purpose upstairs. Mabel's eyes went to Bogart, who was dispensing a drink into someone's tankard behind the bar. His eyes were daggerlike on the three Trident sailors ascending the stairs, but he held his tongue. The observation was subtle, but for Mabel, an internal lookout was screaming out an alarm. Bogart had to know what Jackham and the others were doing upstairs, and he had to be involved in it somehow if he wasn't barking at them to "order a damn drink if ye goin' ta loiter 'round here." Something was wrong. Mabel made brief eye contact with the Scotsman across the floor. She didn't bother to nod or gesture or go whisper something to him; he'd know where she'd be. She waited a few seconds before setting her drink down, then tip-toed upstairs. She walked gently on the edge of each step, knowing that was where the boards were least likely to creak. Once she was up top and saw no one around, she moved snakelike across the hall. There were two rooms on either side, but only one had a door. Someone hadn't bothered to replace the missing doorknob, it seemed, so Mabel had an easy orifice for eavesdropping. She did a quick scan of the upstairs and found that no one else but her and the three sailors were up here. Couldn't ask for better chances, Mabel noted gratefully. She slithered into the room adjacent to the closed-off one where she assumed Jackham and the others to be and tucked herself into a corner between an open window and a broad dresser. She could jump out the window, slide down the veranda's roof, and beat hell across the road if she absolutely had to escape. At that point, though, her clandestine operation would be entirely sabotaged. She quieted her breathing and focused on her hearing.

She heard two voices mostly. They were talking loudly only to hear each other over the clamor below them, but Mabel could hardly make out what they were saying. One of the voices was slightly louder, or closer, than the other. "Don't listen to that Jafferty twat," someone gruffly barked. "Man's got a pea-sized brain. Why would we pitch in for the Crookeds when we can just do the work ourselves? Don't the man realize we're here because Brailham ain't puttin' enough money in our pockets?" Mabel knew the Crookeds to be the strange, anomic group of mercenaries that lived more so in the wilderness of Nassau than in the port. People usually only hired them for odd jobs, and no one was quite sure what their purpose or existence were like. They had become surrounded by more and more wild fables as they became increasingly obscure. "Honestly," the same voice pressed on, "I don't know what's wrong with that guy. Everything that comes outta his mouth is just plain moronic."

Another voice came in. "Alright, drop it, man. Let's move on to the..." His voice faded out for a few words. "At land, or at sea? How's this going to go?"

"I say at sea," the third voice entered, previously unheard. "Too many witnesses at land, whether we're in port or ashore some stranded isle."

"But if we do this at sea and don't have the numbers, there's no escape for us," Jackham pointed out. A silence lapsed among them. Mabel pressed herself into the wall more to make sure she wasn't missing anything.

"What's that sheep-shagger doing down there?" one of them asked suddenly. "I got a weird feeling coming in. We might have to keep an eye on that one."

At that moment, Mabel was yanked out of her eavesdropping by the sound of someone's feet coming up the stairs. She held her breath and squeezed as far back as she could, hoping to whoever that she would not be seen. Someone walked down the hall and knocked on the door without bothering to check for any spies in the other rooms. Amateurs, Mabel thought with amusement and great relief. But then she heard the newcomer, who might have sounded like Bogart, clap his hands together and say, "Come on, boys, let's go." Mabel wasn't sure she could evade so many people. She didn't want to push her luck, but her only way out was risky in a different way. Her reflexes spurred her into immediate motion. Without hesitation, she ducked under the glass of the open window and emerged out onto the slanted roof. Fortunately, it was dark out; she had a chance of not being identified. She scooted herself off the edge of the veranda's covering and landed heavily on the dirt road outside. She didn't want to risk going back inside to get MacNichols, so she took off at a sharp pace, hoping the Scotsman would think to meet her back at the hill sometime.