DR_TRAPEZOID

Spectrum of Light (A Lantern Corps RP)

Hmmm. Interesting. What? Pfft, nothing.

So, I suppose I should wait for Krein, our so-called man with the plan.

Spectrum of Light (A Lantern Corps RP)

As Shrapnel sped off, a trail of yellow light streaking behind him, he allowed his form to degenerate back into a random clump of metal, as holding his humanoid form drained his power. He wasn't streaking off for long, he soon disappeared into a wormhole, manipulating it in order to have it take him to the Antimatter universe, specifically Qward, the home of Sinestro Corps, and the closest thing Shrapnel had to a home.
It wasn't long before Sinestro had been warned, and Shrapnel had his orders. Sinestro had been overcome by a pale face, and it was a moment before he could speak. His tone was grim, and Shrapnel knew that it was truly a serious threat. Shrapnel's order had been to go, group up with the other Lanterns that he had met before, and follow their advice, and call the Corps for assistance only when he was positive that the Manhunters were there, and a viable threat.
Sinestro knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to offer advice to the other Corps. Thanks to his recent involvement with the Manhunters, distrust would spawn, and that was not what they needed, not in such dire consequences. No amount of Shrapnel's arguing helped- he was on his own, for now.
So Shrapnel left, about to take off, to find the other Lanterns, before he was stopped by a warning. "Ring Battery at 2%." Shrapnel chuckled to himself, glad to have gotten this warning now, rather than in the middle of a fight. He shifted aside the plate of metal that guarded his power battery, then removed his power ring. As he chanted the Sinestro Corps oath, his body reformed, snapping together with a satisfying clang punctuating each sentence.
"In blackest day, in brightest night,
Beware your fears made into light
Let those who try to stop what's right,
Burn like his power...
SINESTRO'S MIGHT!"
At the end of the oath, Shrapnel's body had fully formed. He then took off, yellow energy trailing behind him, a crater left in the ground where he was. Spinning through the air, Shrapnel suddenly dissipated in a burst of Yellow light, utilizing a wormhole in order to return to the charred planet. Upon arrival, he looked around, before realizing that they had not spoke of where they would meet. He set his ring to send a signal, telling the Red and Blue Lantern to meet back at the charred planet, with his coordinates.

Reb00t- A Robo-Western

HOOAH!

Reb00t- A Robo-Western

"A gentle breeze blows through the desert. A tumbleweed bounces nimbly over the dunes, only to be caught on a metallic claw, reaching skyward. Very little was left above the sand and rubble ;however, one billboard still stood tall. 'Welcome to the town of Reboot! Relive the Old West, with all of the comforts of today!' It read, sporting a picture of an average man posing with a robotic cowboy. Not far off, appeared a small town, warm lights glowing in the windows. A new beginning, perhaps?"

The year- 2026. Humanity has advanced greatly in the area of mechanics. A new company, going by the name of Reboot, has made a chain of recreational towns, each a mock recreation of some old period of time, worrying less about Historical accuracy, making them romanticized, cliché towns, meant to keep all of the fun from the television, as well as all of the conveniences of modern time. The towns were full of robotic workers who each took their own part in the 'play' that constantly went on.
However, the time at which humanity lived in luxury was short-lived. Politicians said the wrong things, the military made all of the wrong moves, and suddenly it was nuclear war. Not much survived. Certainly nothing with real flesh. However, by some miracle, the town of Reboot stood. Not the humans, but the robots, now ruled the town. That is where you, the RP'er comes in. You will take the place of these robotic cowboys.

No godmodding, metagaming, Mary/ Gary Sues, you all should know the drill.

I don't tend to tolerate rudeness, and general disrespect. If you want to be a part of this respect me, and your fellow RP'ers.

Quality, not quantity. I don't care whether you write a paragraph or a novel, but for gods sake, write something that the others can respond to, and gets some sort of action accomplished.

Name:
Appearance:
Persona: (What role they play. Sheriff, barkeep, etc.)
Personality:
Weapons:(Most every character should have a weapon of some sort, and although they don't shoot real bullets, they do fire beams of invisible energy that can cripple their fellow robots.)
Backstory: (Whether you want to talk about what the robot believes to be it's backstory, or if you'd prefer to talk about it's trip from factory to the town, I don't care. This is really more to gauge your writing.)
Other:

---

My Character

Name: Mayor Elijah Hatfield, prefers to go by Eli.

Appearance:
(Note: Eli is one of the most realistic robots in reboot, as they had spent years perfecting him. Most robots will probably look more... robotic)
Persona: The Mayor

Personality: He is very kindhearted, a soft man, through and through.

Weapons: He keeps a revolver in his desk, but does not tend to pack it around with him.

Backstory: The day was hot. A steady whirr came from the rusty air conditioner in the corner of the office, top floor on an impressive skyscraper, a wonderful view. The door swung open, and a rather eccentric man, wearing a suit, stepped in, followed closely by a man with an electronic easel. An aggravated sigh resounded out from a rather portly man, sitting at the end of the large meeting table. "This had better be worth my time." He muttered. John H. Barr, one of the richest, and most easily annoyed men in America. The newcomer quickly stood up his easel, a skip in his step, a flare in his motion.
"Gentlemen, I present to you, my million dollar idea. I'm sure you've all heard quite a bit at this point, but soon, you will realize the true commercial potential. Here to help me prove this point, meet Mayor Elijah Hatfield!" He said, enthusiasm filling his voice.
A thud resounded through the small room, and soon a hushed silence fell over everyone. A man slowly walked in, the pace reflective of an old man who had spent far too much of his life running. However, something was off about him. To be presice, it was his skin. On his right side, he looked to be a normal man. However, the skin was peeled back on his left side, showing a complex jumble of steel and wires. The android surveyed the room for a moment, before tipping his hat.
"Well, hello there folks, it's mighty nice of you to come and visit. My name is Mayor Elijah Hatfield, but please, call me E.L.I." He said in a voice sweeter than syrup.
"E.L.I. stands for Enhanced Linguistic Intelligence, the A.I. that runs this magnificent masterpiece. These androids will fill the town of Reb00t, providing our guests with as realistic of an experience as possible. Naturally, this is only a prototype, and will be remade and remastered, and with a bit more skin. Gentlemen. Are you ready to make history?" Asked the flamboyant man, before delving deep into a slide show of logistics, useless numbers, and concept photos. Before the sun went down, hands were shook, money exchanged hands, and Reb00t was cleared for construction.
-5 years later-
"Well, hello there folks, it's mighty nice of you to come and visit. My name is Mayor Elijah Hatfield, but please, call me E.L.I." Said an android.
A small boy, no more than 10, let out a squeal of excitement tugging at his mothers arm, as they stepped into a horse driven carriage. (Robotic horse, of course.) After the entire family entered, the mayor stepped in behind them, to accompany them.
"I do hope you'll enjoy your stay at our humble little town. After the tour, feel free to explore as you please!" He said.
-10 years later-
Nuclear war has ravaged the lands.
Not much still stands.
But Reb00t still stands strong, and with reboot, it's mayor.

Other: I won't be using this character much, other than to introduce plot developments.

Happy writing!

Spectrum of Light (A Lantern Corps RP)

Larfleeze said
I'm saying I was going to wait for you to post because me and Skorn are going to warn our corp leaders and if I've gone, it would just be you standing there but I've realised the very obvious solution (I am an idiot) is for one of us to leave and to say You/Me took off shortly after.EDIT- forgot to ask, which one of us will post next?

feel free to post first, it usually takes awhile for me to make a comprehensive post.

Spectrum of Light (A Lantern Corps RP)

Sorry for lack of posting. Stuff needed to get done.
Also, wat do? Someone is going to have to awkwardly leave someone else behind.

Reb00t- A Robo-Western

Perhaps.
Anyways, OoC will go up ASAP.

Spectrum of Light (A Lantern Corps RP)

Yeah. I suppose that's what I get for being (almost) the only non-human.

TWD - Last Life

I suppose I'll just leave this CS here.


Name:
Jed Jefferson Jr.

Age:
25

Personality:
He's not exactly a people-person, but he's much less of a walker-person. He wasn't burdened with an overabundance of education, but he has been taught all of the skills Ma and Pa believed he needed to know. He's been hunting game ever since he could hold a rifle, and enjoys the constant open-season that this apocalypse has provided. He has a sick sense of humor when it comes to the walkers, who he has dubbed 'Biters'. He is a bit childish, and doesn't quite seem to understand the gravity of what is happening.

Appearance:

Hooray for stock photos.

Background:
Born into a family of questionable ancestry, 'Triple J' had been raised upon the morals that his family held high. These morals did not include education, or anything so silly and worthless. No, he was taught to hunt, fish, drive trucks, and drink beer. Kansas city was a nice place, his folks had an old country house, where he has lived... until the accident happened. But that all happened later in life. As Jed grew up, he had few friends, as there were few people to befriend. His best friend was his brother, Jimmy Jefferson. No one was a better friend than Jimmy.
Then, one day, it happened. It had been a few weeks since the radio had blared out that warning, something about some sort of sickness hitting a lot of cities, then the radio stations went out, all static. It was a little curious, but they mostly ignored it. On that fateful day, a man, all alone, stumbled around, before passing out on the dirt. Jed and Jimmy went to help him, and brought him back home. Paw tried to patch him up, said something about a bite- must've been some mad dog or something.
When the man woke up, Jed, Paw and Jimmy were there. But when he woke up, he wasn't quite right. He tried biting Jimmy, but we managed to keep him off, for a minute. The man managed to pin down Jimmy, and ripped right through him, stuffing as much as he could in his mouth. At that point, Paw grabbed his trusty 12 gauge, and blew the mans head right off. There was nothing they could do for Jimmy but bury him.
They had believed that to be the last of it. But one day, more of them came. Jed and Paw were much more careful, and by virtue of shotguns, overcame the horde. The next day, they had visitors. Living ones. Suited up in camo, toting automatic weaponry. By some miracle, Jed was able to survive, hiding away in the barn, but the same could not be said for Maw and Paw. When the military left, Maw and Paw were corpses, riddled with bullets. Jed learned the hard way about how his so called 'Biters' are made, and how only headshots kill. Jed had to put the final bullet in his Paw.
Jed left then, a truck full of food, a belly full of beer, and a shotgun full of revenge. He sought out for his Aunt and Uncle, who had left life in the country, to move to the city of Denver. On his trip, Jed met up with a group of survivors, who filled him in on what was going on. He stayed with them for awhile, until one went AWOL, and the whole group broke apart. He moved on, having not found his Uncle. He had one last hope, his cousins cabin, out in the mountains of Colorado.

Weapon of Choice:
He has three. A simple hunting knife, gifted to him by his father at a young age. His trusty axe, which he uses to chop down anything from doors to Biters. Second, his Remington M870, which he tends to use sparingly, as ammo isn't exactly plentiful.

Hometown:
Kansas City, Missouri

Reb00t- A Robo-Western

Well, the robot Indians is actually a really good idea! Alright.
As far as a plot goes... I had a couple of really cliché ideas. We could do the whole 'Oh no, evil bandits!', or have some form of conflict with the Indians... I really should have thought this through beforehand. If you all have any suggestions, feel free to toss them at me.