Crayt

Crayt seeking Roleplayers-for-Hire

Hello.

I'm Crayt. I'm a 24 year old (almost got ahead of myself and said 25, but not quite yet...) swede. I've been an on-off roleplayer since I was about 11 years old, but it's admittedly been a while since I last roleplayed - mainly because my laptop bricked itself last year and I hate typing on a phone (I have a Chrombook now, adjusting to its tiny keyboard is rough). But even prior to that, life kept me unable to roleplay by various means and I'll just outright say that I'm not entirely sure where my current level of writing stands, so to speak. So have patience with me.

I'm most definitely a dude, and I know just that fact alone is an immediate "no" to some for... various reasons, let's say. I'd be willing to roleplay a female character, but I can't guarantee it being a particularly believable character at this point.

I don't want to think of myself as all too demanding in terms of quantity, as long as posts are substantial. I'd hate to assign a number of paragraphs as a must, because I'm well aware that sometimes you can't write a lengthy post without meaningless filler - and we all want to avoid meaningless filler... So just do your best, and I'll try to match it. Although let's not make a habit out of writing single paragraph posts. I sure as hell won't be able to stick to one paragraph.

I don't mind 18+ content, but I do expect you to be at least 18 if that's what you're going for. But I'm also not particularly interested in outright smutty roleplays. On a similar note, the relationship should be a biproduct of the plot and world, not the entire plot and world. I want an overarching story, but the end doesn't (and probably shouldn't?) need to be planned out before the roleplay even gets started. With all that out of the way...

Genres

I don't do slice of life. I've tried, but there's never anything about it that grabs me. My life is mundane enough, I don't need to write about a different mundane life with extra drama.

I might be open to do fandom roleplays in the future, but for now... There's nothing I particularly crave in terms of pre-existing worlds. Nevermind, I thought of some that I'm actually interested in. Just keep in mind that I don't play pre-existing characters, I prefer original characters and an original story. I'll compile a list later.

Fallout
Bloodborne (still trying to think of a way to make this work, but I'm curious)
Resident Evil
Left 4 Dead
Probably more, will keep updating...

Other than that, I'm open for anything. My preferred genres are futuristic sci-fi, fantasy (high, low, anywhere in between), post-apocalyptic and western. But if you want to propose a different genre and setting, feel free. If it seems engaging enough, I'll do it.

That big "Genres" feels superfluous now... But I'm sticking with it!

Story ideas

When It Festers

Sin. Always prevalent with humanity. Always tempting the helpless, lonely and desperate. A concept given physical manifestations in a civilisation spread out and isolated across a desert wasteland. The gluttonous feed on their communities, the lustful use their wiles to get their way, the angry tear through the lives of others, and the prideful… hard to describe. But where there is Sin, men and women of good intention always follow.

The idea is a western setting, but definitely not in historical America or Earth at all because then I’d feel obligated to do a ton of research on the actual geography of the wild west. It’s a place that mostly consists of desert, with its dunes and all that which a desert entails. It’s a world where if a person chooses to indulge their worst ideas, they become savage and empowered - mostly physically. Unless it’s a case of others inflating another person’s pride too far, in which case… they become extraordinary in more unnatural ways. I’m thinking of only sticking to the four cardinal sins mentioned above, but hey… further development in other areas can always be made. This is probably an 18+ story, considering everything that the cardinal sin of lust entails. Going to be pretty graphic too in terms of violence at parts.

I’ll continue thinking about this world and what kind of story I’m interested in making. But this is a setting I’ve had in mind ever since my laptop broke early last year, so it’s highest priority despite whatever other settings I might think of.

I'll continue adding ideas as I think of them.

Thanks for reading this terrible interest check. I'll be reading a bunch of others myself.

Sincerely,
Crayt

The Johnson Gang

A smirk continued to tug at the corner of Angel's mouth as Céline responded to his questions. He was a little surprised to find himself slightly disappointed that the response wasn't particularly, well... surprising. Especially considering he lacked any sort of expectations. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to look towards the rest of the camp when Céline turned the question towards him instead. Secrets? Plenty. Ones a young lady such as her should be wary of? Still plenty, but she'd likely garner some of her own if she stuck around this sort of group long enough. He considered sharing one that wasn't entirely horrifying before deciding most of them would likely be horrifying to her. He settled to be sly by saying:
"You'll have no reason to be wary of me." He punctuated the statement with a playful wink and a toothy smile.

Deciding it best to avoid any odd looks from her, as all this could easily have been perceived as awfully presumptuous by him, Angel looked down at the ground instead. He nodded to himself before continuing:
"In case I haven't introduced myself before, it is entirely possible that I simply forgot we had met before, the utter fool that I am... My name is Rafael. But my friends call me Angel." He smiled, not as broadly as before, and reached out his hand towards Céline in greeting.

The Johnson Gang

Having spent most of this time simply standing in silence and observing the ongoing argument, Angel found himself mildly amused over the whole situation. It seemed a bit silly to him, and then it seemed more funny than anything as their callous leader gave Desmond a resounding slap across the face. By that time, he'd turned his back to and distanced himself from it by a bit just so no one would see the toothy grin across his face. It crossed his mind, briefly, that things might escalate. He considered intervening, but also decided it wasn't necessarily his place to do so. Whatever extent this group knew each other, he certainly knew everyone the least - likewise, everyone knew him the least. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he'd watched a gang turn on itself while standing idly by. And from the looks of things, unlikely to be the last either...

As he stood there listening to the argument, hearing how the escalation was prevented by the timely arrival of the sister, Angel casually shuffled his feet in the dust and looked around. There was still a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when he noticed the approaching... girl. Angel thought to himself for a moment, wondered if they'd even been introduced - probably - as he couldn't recall her name. He blinked and puckered his mouth in slight annoyance at himself. If there's a name he should have remembered in this group, it had to be this one's. He still didn't.

As the girl spoke up, it caught Angel by (delightful) surprise that she was speaking in spanish. English was hardly an unpleasant language, but of course the vaquero preferred his language. It was also, in his opinion, a far more beautiful language - but he was admittedly biased. Angel waited for a few seconds, staring curiously and unabashedly at Céline, before responding in his mother tongue:
"I think they're working out some... tension, so to speak", a wry smile slowly appeared on his face, "I wouldn't worry about it too much, I'm sure they'll kiss and make up eventually." A chuckle escaped with the final sentence. He turned away briefly before turning back and proceeding to inquire noticably playfully:
"Where did the little lady learn to speak spanish and what other secrets is she hiding, hm? Perhaps her name?"

Bullets and Bounty, Everyone has a Price

* ALERT *
** WANTED CRIMINAL **

Osmund Sinclaire

The individual is wanted for murder, arson, destruction of property, kidnapping, extortion and human trafficking - all on several accounts. Most recently suspected for taking part in the recent destruction of an entire city block, where several hundred civilians were killed in the explosions and ensuing fires. They have known ties with several criminal organisations, including but not limited to their family relations with the infamous Sinclaire family and contract work for several illegal mercenary corps.

The criminal is to be considered heavily armed and dangerous. Known weaponry include a military-grade flamethrower with accompanying fuel tanks, incendiary grenades and a handgun. They are normally seen wearing a black and orange flame-retardant coat with a hood, heavy combat boots and dark goggles. The individual is suspected to have undergone heavy cybernetic surgery on their respiratory system, with dozens of pieces of tubing grafted to their neck, shoulders, chest and back. They are suspected to be immune to most if not all gaseous hazards - so long as the gas does not harm the skin nor other organic material.

The individual’s appearance is largely unknown to authorities. They are roughly 180 centimetres tall and are assumed to be of a strong body type. Based on the appearance of relatives, they are assumed to have black hair and brown eyes.

If you see this man, immediately contact the authorities.

The Johnson Gang

And as one might've guessed, an amused chuckle escaped Angel as he heard the term "spic" mentioned. It wasn't so much that he felt offended, it wasn't the nervous kind of laughter nor the forced kind. It was just what he'd decided to do in response to whatever happened after he'd spoken. He raised his hand to give his beard a few gentle strokes with his forefinger and thumb, before opening his mouth to say something in response. However, that opportunity was shortly robbed from him as the leader and the pretty drunkard snapped back at the hard-ass. All he could do for the time being was make a puckered, startled face at everyone involved as the dissent became more tangible in that moment.

On the other hand, now he'd heard three names. Probably for the umpteenth time but eventually they'd stick. Kacey was easy enough, Angel's initial guess had been fairly close at least. Emily was an easy name, and for a moment the vaquero couldn't help but think, An easy name for an easy girl. It was probably for the better that he kept such thoughts to himself. But he found Maverick to be an odd name. He played with the name in his head for a few seconds, trying to see where the charm in it was, but decided that he'd just call the man "Rick" from now on. An easy name for an easy man. His smile broadened further at the thought.

Angel blinked and tilted his head forwards in a mock attempt at seeming embarassed.
"My mistake, sorry, I'm jus'... not good with names, you know", he said with an amused tilt to his voice and gestured towards his head with a casual twirl of his hand, "It won't happen again, boss."
He took a few steps backwards and away from Kacey and tucked his thumbs under his belt, adopting an unassuming posture.
"So from what I understand, this town is... is pretty small. Are we to suppose that they won't put up that much of a fight when we take off with their money?", he mused at Kacey. His accent didn't allow him to properly pronounce "suppose", or really any words with a silent e. They always seemed to end with a hard consonant, giving his speech sometimes a somewhat stunted complexity. "Becos I like a gunfight as much as anyone else but you know, I'd prefer not to see anyone hurt."
A smirk manifested on his lips as he thought himself so charming, so clever in that moment.
"'Specially you, pretty boy", he continued as he looked towards Maverick and aimed a sly wink at him.

The Johnson Gang

Angel desperately tried his best to register every name that he heard during this whole process. He couldn't. Part of it was that he was better with faces than names, and he couldn't put a face on every name at the time. But another part was that he wasn't entirely sure which names were yet worth registering. Certainly, there was something to be said about the current state of passable coefficiency but at the same time, not everyone seemed to get perfectly well along and some definitely seemed to rub others not-entirely-the-right-way. In a cutthroat family, there's always the eventuality of someone getting cut - be it figuratively or literally. Even so, by the end of the procedure, Angel had taken note that his name was actually mentioned. Refreshing.

A content sigh followed as the vaquero slowly moved to strap the rifle onto his back. With somewhat jerky and tired moves, he proceeded to grab onto the side of the cliff and maneuver himself downwards. It hadn't been the easiest climb the first time around, with several occurences of him falling back on his behind, but it became routine after the first few attempts. Only a foot or so off the ground, Angel felt his left hand slip away from a groove in the clifface. A short startled grunt and a frantic attempt to get a hold of the same groove later, he found that his feet hit the ground barely a second later and he'd avoided any physical injury - his pride was another matter, in case anyone had witnessed this transpire...

With a rather indignant twirl, he turned to look back at the camp. His own bedding and property were closer to where he stood now, just so he could occasionally sneak down and have a rest when no one was looking at night. Careless, but Angel figured that a tired mind and body wouldn't do anyone any favours when the time came to take action. And besides, he was hardly expected to stay awake for days and nights on end. It was hard to tell what he had in his pack. A couple of belts of ammunition, a couple of inches long piece of stowed away jerky, a large flask of water. The essentials, one might say.

The vaquero began approaching the leader lady - Starts with a K, he thought to himself - with determined steps, and arms held out towards his sides in a friendly manner. His voice sounded confident as he spoke, mostly thanks to the foreign accent:
"I wonder if it would not look a liidle bit strange with an armed mexican standing outside the bank in the broad daylight, miss Kaylee?" A broad, cocky smile spread across Angel's face afterwards, almost a grin. One could tell there was a laugh, or at least a chuckle, building up inside - ready as a response to whatever he'd be told.

The Johnson Gang

It was me.

I did it.

I killed them all

I gave them all a two week vacation to the Bahamas.

The Johnson Gang

A low sigh escaped his lips, as Angel looked down at the woman in charge from his seating place ten, twelve feet above the ground on a small ridge overlooking the camp. The vaquero hadn't taken the time to actually learn the names of everyone here yet. Leaning back against the rock behind him, he held both hands on top of his old and trusty Winchester rifle while his black and white sombrero rested easily over the top half of his face. It wasn't so much that he neede shielding away from the sun, as much as it was that he wished that the sun reached onto this side of the canyon. As it was, it only reached the other half of the canyon. He'd taken it upon himself to watch over the exits of the canyon, to see if anyone dared approach the posse. Whether it was wise to trust him to be the one to do it was another matter entirely, considering the freshness of Angel's inauguration. He spent most of the time up there asleep or chatting with passers-by.

Just until a few weeks ago, he'd been wandering on his own, an old mare carrying him from place to place as he looked for new opportunities. As much as he didn't care to admit it, Angel had been looking for a new party to join. As much as he liked to pretend that he was the greatest cowboy in the west who could get things done on his own, he most definitely wasn't... and he more often than not couldn't. He'd only so far given them a small hand, namely supplying them with... means of "valiantry" so to speak. So he wasn't entirely sure what had convinced them to let him come with. But he wasn't about to complain either. Company was comforting, and it was after all so very hard for him to decline such an offer from a group that had so many beautiful ladies.

The leader lady's and the pretty drunkard's voices snapped him back to reality from his daydreams. He groaned as he sat upright, stretched his back and arms, before straightening his hat back upon his crest. With a lazy smile, he let his gaze wander from person to person, before loudly posing his question:
"Someone say somethin'?"

The Johnson Gang

Rafael Angelico “Angel” Rivera

Age: 32
Gender: Male

Personality
Angel would like to think himself to be perceived as a lighthearted sort. He laughs with others, at bad jokes, at funny circumstances and when he feels the most comfortable. But he also laughs at the most macabre things you might think of, most of all death. The death of others, the thought of his own death and most importantly: the death which he causes. He has a tendency of lying very frequently, even about the most mundane of things. He’ll often tell tales of his past, and it’s always hard to tell when he’s pulling your leg or actually telling the truth. Angel vehemently despises alcohol for whatever reason, and can ofttimes be seen throwing scornful glances at peers who partake in drinking.

The man lacks any sort of code of conduct or honor or morals, it would seem. The only reason anyone would see fit to have him around is that he’s effective. He doesn’t necessarily carry out orders particularly well, since he has a nasty habit of improvising when something doesn’t sit right with him. However, Angel works well with others, even though he doesn’t work as well for others. He doesn’t abandon his comrades when things look grim and he gladly offers his advice on anything - even though his advice may not be the most advised advice you could get.

History
Angel’s origin is somewhat up to debate. He’s claimed that he was born to a poor family who didn’t want him and decided to leave him at the doorstep of a rich, pampering couple who he ran away from at a young age because he felt the call of banditry in his blood. No, he was kidnapped by injuns when he was a baby and raised to become a savage native, that’s why he’s so fierce and hot-headed. Actually, he was never born, so to speak. He emerged from the heavens as an angel of death, set upon the world to wreak havoc.

But there’s a tale told of a boy who lived with a large and simple family. Simple, but happy. They all worked on their field, traded using grain and celebrated birthdays and other important occasions with themselves and close friends. The tale tells of a boy who grew up to be a man, dissatisfied with the way his life was set up to be, a man who snuck out into the night and left a family distraught. The man did many things during his travels, he experienced much honorable enough work, but nothing quite made him feel right. The tale tells of a man who thought it was unfair how some people had more metal chinking in their pockets than others, and decided to do something about it. The man shot the wealthy but found that the poor would not associate themselves with a bandit.

But eventually, the man found a family. Several families. Some families experienced betrayal, some families experienced death, some families simply decided it was no longer worth it. Throughout the years, the man started to find himself less and less bothered by death. He lost many friends, and he killed many who he didn’t care for. He had also brushed shoulders with it himself in many a different way. One might say, he started to take a shining to death. It was easy, it was something he could do, and it was a relief when he emerged the survivor. And maybe a part of him wanted to find someone better at it than him.

Weaknesses: Insubordinate, has a tendency of escalating hostile situations, lies frequently.
Strengths: A charming hispanic accent, excellent gunslinger, fantastic liar.

Other: Always carries with him a revolver and a trusty Winchester rifle. Doesn’t really own a horse, but somehow always has one anyway…

Description:
Angel has a lean build and stands at about six feet even in height. His skin tone could well be described as “honey”-coloured and his face is adorned by a subtly unevenly grown goatee and moustache. His hair is dark, curly and often cut short, and his eyes have a dark brown colour. His face could be described as a bit gaunt, but he never looks unhappy: in fact, he is almost always found with a lazy smile across his face. He keeps his revolver holstered on his left hip and his rifle on his back, protruding over his left shoulder.

What Are You Listening To?