Avatar of Jeep Wrangler
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    1. Jeep Wrangler 2 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Do what I do and write two novels and then have like 4 people read them B)
1 like
2 yrs ago
We've got a certified "Bozo Down" today
2 yrs ago
Also why's everyone getting so pressed about writing perspectives like dude just go write a book lol
3 likes
2 yrs ago
Might want to pick it back up before I put it in my wallet
2 yrs ago
40k fans are like the "Can he beat Goku" guys of Science Fiction
1 like

Bio

Literally 1984 by Jorjor Well

Most Recent Posts








Ahh, Nimrod City. Along the Southernmost coast of the French Mediterranean, this fairly limitless metropolis of art, culture and performance has seen the likes of legends walk through their alleyways, present their pieces in state of the art galleries and take the stages of concert halls in droves. Two decades of development has left it with enrichment and personality. Twinned with a certain Cystra City, across the Eastern Seaboards of South-Eastern Asia, the urban wonderland had hosted plenty of worldwide talents, preparing them for lives beyond the spotlight. However, there's been several notable issues in the last five or six years. Stagnation has begun to hit setlists of concerts, and breeds of new talents has found itself searching elsewhere, taking away the city's identity and focus. A once thriving industry has left itself in the dark, allowing the neon lights to instead praise all other medias.

And so, how does one remove such stagnation and return to its roots, as a home for the art of sound? Introduce a single man: Tang Enfu. Previously a great figure in Nimrod's sister cityscape, Enfu brings a previously successful institution to the shores of European lands. For the last three years, construction of an elusive building on the outskirts of the city has been relatively difficult, with all things sociopolitical getting in the way, until finally the unveiling of the Rosalie District, a centralised estate designed only for the musically-invested minds from around the world, named after the residential singer who helped fund the project. Rolling out a plan was rather fanatic, as it banked mainly on some fantasy based luck, but Mr Enfu seemed adamant to deliver the birthplace of "A thousand new headliners." The catch: there was no way to apply for it. The next year was spent throwing A&R scouts across the globe to investigate any interesting candidates. Sceptics looked to Mr Enfu's criteria with strange gazes. He wasn't looking for recognisable names and identities, only the underbellies of the public eye. Local talent shows, online performances, interviews and small-time radio broadcasts opened up a plethora of choices for him to ultimately narrow down. Not a single genre was restricted from the pool. And thus, the invitations finally went out.

Two thousand individuals were sent emails, letters and personally met with on their doorsteps. What had been an excruciating position of decision-making had finally listed international figures awaiting for their time to break even with both their talent and popularity. Those who sought comfort, stardom or simply stability in performing as a profession soon had their tickets booked, rooms cleared out and eyes set to the illustrious Nimrod City, where the Rosalie District's emerald gates lay waiting for their arrival. Under the guise of a comfortable living space, Mr Enfu's institution opened the doors to creative freedom, with plenty of small clubs, stadiums, concert halls, outdoor arenas and cafes to satisfy the growth of the artists. Sponsored events, collaboration opportunities and compensation for their journey onward was all but a ticket to hardships. Who these artists were, how they meshed with one another and how they handled their position was yet to be understood, but that was all part of the District's estranged experimentation.





Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Rosalie District, part of the notorious international hub for entertainment - Nimrod. As aforementioned, the city stands on the southern side of France, with part of it overlooking the great Mediterranean sea. Set up as part of a twin-city programme, in which its industry was focused on the creativity of aspiring minds, the urban paradise has garnered a great deal of fame from its class acts, prime status, even as much to claim that its the top-tier goal of life; the European Hollywood, except more neon! As art can only be produced as long as the artist is alive, the city undergoes cycles of shifts in the creative bloom. Stagnation has hit the music industry as many of its greatest artists begin to wither out, either in popularity or by age, and the demand to reinvigorate the studios, concert halls and small gig venues. And nothing is never as good as something that's homegrown.

Mr Enfu's policy isn't quite as homemade, however the Rosalie District - under his guidance - instead opens opportunities for small and insignificant artists to grow their platform in the supposed best place for it. This roleplay will be focusing on the new occupants of the newly formed modern estate, primarily those chanced with ideals of great musical success across a multitude of genres, techniques, instruments, performances and composition. As an early disclaimer, no you don't have to be musically qualified for the roleplay, it's just a bit of fun. And, whilst it helps to make a character, you can freely join this as a slice-of-life experience anyway.

Of course, over the time I've spent planning this, knowing full well that there's a sandbox element to it, I don't always intend for everything to be sunshine and rainbows. Opportunities for shady business, competition between industries and the general obstructions any person chasing fame may suffer from are likely to be present. I'm planning to not use a strict railroading for this scenario, though I'll be putting in events from time to time that players can populate or ignore, depending on what stories your characters are going through. On the topic of characters, this roleplay will be heavily focused on the narratives and developments characters go through in their pursuit for a great career or fame. Whether they find themselves trapped in a rush for the top medal or caught in a complicated relationship with another character, the spotlight should mainly lay upon them. To maximise the potential, regular interactions between characters might be necessary, though there's workarounds with NPCs and all that jazz. Performances will only be as common as you make them, but that in turn will reflect on your overall experience and opportunities presented by characters such as Mr Enfu.

Suggestions throughout the roleplay are recommended, as we work together to create more writing opportunities, interactions and other things between ourselves. I'm not expecting a consistent daily post rate, so don't worry too much about that. As long as you're willing to stick around and keep this going, I'll be happy to have you as part of the cast!

-------


For character sheets, there's no concrete way in which you should present things. As long as you have the key information in there, going about and using whatever design is fine. Feel free to pretty it up if you wish, but it won't affect whether or not I accept it or not. At the end of the day, the content is what matters. If you wish to abstain any very specific aspects from the character's biography, do let me know so I can just confirm that it's not too far fetched or over-the-top.


When it comes to rules for the roleplay, it's more just the ones based on common sense. Whilst there are mature themes throughout, don't go completely over the top. Slice of life, not protagonist-based world ending situation, amirite? I don't really have a limit to players, considering the genre, so if you're interested in joining let us know and drop a character sheet down in the OOC for us to look over! I look forward and hope we can kick something off here with this new scenario. Thanks for reading through and, if you're interested, I can't wait to see what characters and situations we get out of this!
Hey, is this still open? I'd like to put my interest in!
Count me in.


I am counting you in!

I'll likely work on the OOC tomorrow, should be able to get it done then!
By the way, does anyone have any questions or suggestions regarding the RP as a whole?
let me do stuff? in a slice of life rp?


Ikr crazy
Sounds Fun.


Awesome. I'll start working on an OOC if we can get some more interest, though me just finishing up a house move hasn't made it too easy haha
@Fabricant451@Hey Im Jordan@alimariloasun Now this is what I call, epic







Ahh, Nimrod City. Along the Southernmost coast of the French Mediterranean, this fairly limitless metropolis of art, culture and performance has seen the likes of legends walk through their alleyways, present their pieces in state of the art galleries and take the stages of concert halls in droves. Two decades of development has left it with enrichment and personality. Twinned with a certain Cystra City, across the Eastern Seaboards of South-Eastern Asia, the urban wonderland had hosted plenty of worldwide talents, preparing them for lives beyond the spotlight. However, there's been several notable issues in the last five or six years. Stagnation has begun to hit setlists of concerts, and breeds of new talents has found itself searching elsewhere, taking away the city's identity and focus. A once thriving industry has left itself in the dark, allowing the neon lights to instead praise all other medias.

And so, how does one remove such stagnation and return to its roots, as a home for the art of sound? Introduce a single man: Tang Enfu. Previously a great figure in Nimrod's sister cityscape, Enfu brings a previously successful institution to the shores of European lands. For the last three years, construction of an elusive building on the outskirts of the city has been relatively difficult, with all things sociopolitical getting in the way, until finally the unveiling of the Rosalie District, a centralised estate designed only for the musically-invested minds from around the world, named after the residential singer who helped fund the project. Rolling out a plan was rather fanatic, as it banked mainly on some fantasy based luck, but Mr Enfu seemed adamant to deliver the birthplace of "A thousand new headliners." The catch: there was no way to apply for it. The next year was spent throwing A&R scouts across the globe to investigate any interesting candidates. Sceptics looked to Mr Enfu's criteria with strange gazes. He wasn't looking for recognisable names and identities, only the underbellies of the public eye. Local talent shows, online performances, interviews and small-time radio broadcasts opened up a plethora of choices for him to ultimately narrow down. Not a single genre was restricted from the pool. And thus, the invitations finally went out.

Two thousand individuals were sent emails, letters and personally met with on their doorsteps. What had been an excruciating position of decision-making had finally listed international figures awaiting for their time to break even with both their talent and popularity. Those who sought comfort, stardom or simply stability in performing as a profession soon had their tickets booked, rooms cleared out and eyes set to the illustrious Nimrod City, where the Rosalie District's emerald gates lay waiting for their arrival. Under the guise of a comfortable living space, Mr Enfu's institution opened the doors to creative freedom, with plenty of small clubs, stadiums, concert halls, outdoor arenas and cafes to satisfy the growth of the artists. Sponsored events, collaboration opportunities and compensation for their journey onward was all but a ticket to hardships. Who these artists were, how they meshed with one another and how they handled their position was yet to be understood, but that was all part of the District's estranged experimentation.




Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Rosalie District, a place for musicians and performers of little to no notoriety to set their feet into the world their icons stand in. This is to be a slice-of-life roleplay set around character interactions, narratives and development, leaving much of its plot and story up to player creativity. First and foremost, I don't want anyone to be discouraged over the themes. You don't have to be an expert in music theory, a musician and all that jazz to join us. It's merely a backdrop for our characters occupations, a sense of unity and relativity between them all. From singers to performing producers, classical to new-age, we are to expect a great and broad cast that encapsulates the diversity of music as a whole. The idea itself stems from an old idea based in the aforementioned Cystra City, though I've chosen its counterpart as the focus. At the end of the day, the scenery does not matter too much, but it is the characters that do.

Like most slice of life's, this is going to tell stories of their everyday lives, their personal hardships, interactions and tribulations along the way. Whether it be the development of a blossoming romance, the flukes of a one-night encounter, the partnership in creativity and the intrusive damages forged through rivalries, we can expect to see many characters live out their days adjusting to the professional side of music. Characters of most, if not any, genre can find themselves in the state-of-the-art District, preparing themselves for that next hit tune or distracting themselves in the company of friends and fiends. I don't really know on the direction we'll take, of course, because that'll be down to us as writers and players. Several events down the line, such as festivals and opportunities for supporting acts, will eventually spring up, but we'll have some comfort in the sandbox of the cityscape to slowly progress our characters from nobodies to known names across the setlists of known concerts. Other positions for journalists and other industry-based jobs will also be available, though for now I'll keep the details on those relatively lite too.

I really hope you find yourself interested in this idea. Again, sorry for not delving in too much to the details of the roleplay. I'll be more than happy to answer any questions down below if you so have any, and I thank you for reading this all through! And for those dropping there interest below, I look forward to making characters together in this vibrant urban paradise!
I think I'm gonna drop my interest out of this RP. Currently don't want to take on too many war-based RPs alongside personal writing otherwise I'll creatively drain myself of the subject lmao.

Hope it takes off in its fullest!





Interacting with: @Hero



He felt sick to the stomach. The sensation had drawn his body into an illusion of twisted convulsion. At first glance, he could've sworn that his body had mangled into angles and strains. A phantom pain that didn't exist haunted his body. To have felt ever such discomfort was indescribable. As if it were on the border of agony and a simple trip kept him in a state of disillusion. The world span and the high-rises began to contort with sharp edges and spikes. The tone of the sky blistered London into a dysfunctional society of pure dread. If Laurence were to analyse it anymore he would've gone insane. The very concept of the world sent him into a frenzied fit, where his breath ran cold and his muscles locked up. To what he thought was a dream, he stroked the cold and moist concrete with his hands, feeling a very real sensation that was inseparable from the world he'd come from. He closed his eyes and hoped that when he opened them, the trance disappeared and everything returned to how it was before. Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, it seemed to just darken the world, unfade the silhouettes and thicken the fog.

He felt the abandonment sink in once more. Like the day he left him aside to drown in loneliness, this felt as if the world had taken its leave and left him behind. The rapture, perhaps? He wasn't religious. Such solitude scared him. He kicked his feet against the ground, pushing him across his backside and into one of the alleyway walls. He felt coiled in the mind, a charge of anxiety being revved up by the envious world's magnitude. Lost shapes began to retake themselves. He tried to control his breath but failed rather quickly. And that was when felt the sound nearby.

Yes, he felt it. Sound felt like an entirely new element to reality. The sound of bags dropping against the floor vibrated through the air, sending a weak shockwave into his mind and rattling it. He turned, seeing a girl take a knee beside him. He remained frozen on the floor as she snapped into some sort of controlling position. He couldn't make out her face, not at first at least, before he heard her voice speak with a sort of professional tenderness. As she quizzed him on his wellbeing, he looked back around him in disbelief before shaking his head.


"W-what the fuck...are you seeing this shit too?" As any international individual would, in his loose panic his accent slipped out stronger than ever. He felt a genuine surge of disbelief flow through him, so much so that he barely realised who the person talking to him was.

"What, the fog?" Cara asked, taking off her headphones. "I heard it's pretty common in England. But I'm more concerned about you, you look like you're just about ready to keel over."

Laurence physically froze for a moment, turning up to see who she was. His first thought was about how terrible his mind must've been if she'd completely disregarded the entire world around her. Or was it really around her? Had his drink or water fountain been spiked with some toxic chemicals. He'd read about such happenings in America but not in London. He held a hand onto his head and shook himself, seeing if the visions would go away. As expected, they didn't. He truly was in a nightmarish hellscape that taunted his very perception. He riled himself up and looked back at her, not recognising her or the delicacy of her look. No, she seemed completely oblivious to the estranged transition around them. In that instance, he began to doubt whether or not he'd finally snapped over his own dysfunctions.

"The...you...don't see the...the stuff around us? Through the fog? The silhouettes?" The panic in his voice settled for a weary sense of anxiety.

At the mention of their environment, Cara squinted as she looked around. After a few seconds, she looked back at Laurence, giving him a small frown. "I...didn't notice that until now," She slowly admitted, though she shook her head. "I thought we were outside the university, but...ah, well--you know, we should look after you first, you look like you're in pain. Can you stand?"

"God, so you see it too?!" Clearly the two had separate priorities. He couldn't quite pinpoint how she had maintained such levelheadedness in the face of deception and potential visible distress. He fumbled with his words, looking up at her with a difficulty sense of misunderstanding. He couldn't help but feel a smile crawl onto his face, unsure of what he was going through at that moment. "Uhh...I'm fine. I...I feel as if I've gone through a gate to hell. I...think I'm just panicked. What...so...who are you? Are...is this normal? How are you so--calm?" The woman paused for a moment, teetering on a decision, and after a few seconds she shrugged.

"I was on my way to the gym and had my playlist going, so I was in the zone...I honestly didn't notice much until you pointed it out," She ended up admitting, giving him a nervous laugh. "At least I can add 'keeping calm in odd situations' on my resume." Remembering that she had yet to introduce herself, she flashed a smile at Laurence. "I'm Cara, I'm a third year nursing student here. Well, not here, at the university," She waved at their surroundings. "This is pretty freaky, though...but don't worry, I'm here with you. We can stick together and see if we can find our way back, alright?"

He definitely was dreaming. There had to be no other way. She seemed so calm, so collected and so fitting in this odd world he'd found himself in. When she proclaimed her willingness to help herself, and him, to get back, he felt his heart lift a little in several ways. He couldn't really describe it but it wasn't too dissimilar to how he'd felt around Fiddle. God, the day was definitely a fever dream. He'd spoken to Fiddle. Now this woman named Cara, who seemed so confident in the zone of chaos. He wished he could feel the same on the situation as she did, but felt as if he were just another failure failing to impress anyone of any calibre. Instead, he slowly brought himself to his feet with an extension of the hand, shaking his head with detest towards the fragility of his own confidence.

"O-okay. I'm...I'm fine with this..." His little smile came back into the fray with the flushed cheeks of both panic and confusion. What was even going on that day? The smile didn't go away, it continued as he finally stood by her side, holding himself up with some sort of stifled gaze at her. "Laurence- second year...doesn't matter much though. Let's...uhm...show the way?"

Cara beamed, obviously pleased to see the guy calm down a little. At his question, she looked around once again, her hand to her chin as she gave it a thought. Making up her mind, she pointed in the direction she had come from. "We can try retracing our steps," She suggested, kneeling down to scoop up her bag. "Stay close, alright? We'll get out of this."

Even if the hope was false, he felt a flutter in his chest as her godly smile enriched the fog with an unprecedented brightness. He nodded to himself, seeing her take a sort of caring charge of the situation. And there, he felt mostly ready to take on the absolute monstrosity that London had become. All it took was a little walking around, right?



From rooftop to window ledge, she scaled the routes she'd memorised with near perfect fluidity. There was no stopping. Something large had caught her off guard, her senses of the realm were thrown into a violent scramble. It wasn't a sensation she recognised, but she definitely had felt it before. It was something long lost to the times gone by. Years spent on the prowl had sharpen her to the strange variables all around her. This...this was different. It felt invigorating, but she refused to let the excitement of it all get to her. Was it another clue toward the prey? The predator? Was it something to carve her blades into? Or was it something that required a bullet to put down? She felt a strange rush of blood spread throughout her body. A good feeling came from the idea of the hunt. She lost herself in the drive in curdling herself with vengeance.

Her shoes skipped across the gaps and she fluttered by the flick of a grapple. Her eyes became focused entirely on the task ahead of her. Investigation and assassination. The time could be now. Would it be now? She heard the voices again. Maybe they were telling her it was going to happen. It was exhilarating. She felt entrapped by its illusive and flirtatious scent. No detraction. Only attraction. She ran closer to where she sensed its pheromone. From the rooftop, she leapt forward, almost gliding with motion throwing her forward. It wasn't flight, not by any means, but more a push through the air. She let her shadow cloud the ground, the mist hiding her body beyond a silhouette. Her lips pursed together and she let out a vile whistle, taunting the pavement with vicious speed. She hooked herself to a pillar and wrapped herself around, drawing out some form of firearm, manifesting with a weird fog-like substance clouding its creation. Whether they had seen her shadow fade in and out of the fog was another question. What they didn't know, however, was that she could see them all too perfectly.


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