Haven't seen a cyberpunk adventure in a bit, it's almost like uncharted or something
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neat
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hey can i be a guild mod
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hey can i be a guild mod
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new name, same piss poor time management
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if you have a "craving", write a story on your own, that way when you inevitably lose interest and quit you're only wasting your own time
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factory-engines roar like false lions, blood thunders in the dock-pipes
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Update: I'm dying from jet lag so I probably won't be writing anything today, sorry for being a dirty liar
Hey if you have an interest in it, by all means lol
Okay, so I have a 14 hour flight ahead of me today, but when I get to my long ass layover I’ll do some hammering out of this
For now, if anyone else has an interest or a specific genre preference, lemme know and I’ll work that into account when I have internet again :)
Okay, so I have a 14 hour flight ahead of me today, but when I get to my long ass layover I’ll do some hammering out of this
For now, if anyone else has an interest or a specific genre preference, lemme know and I’ll work that into account when I have internet again :)
I think both of those can be blended into either fantasy or sci-fi. Dystopia, cyberpunk, etc
I do love me some good old giant action set pieces though, I have a nice history of some big scenes.
I do love me some good old giant action set pieces though, I have a nice history of some big scenes.
seems interesting, where do you see this going story wise?
I am still thinking about whether I am more interesting in a sci-fi bend or a fantasy-bend. I think it would depend on what y'all would more prefer, at this point: I have a rough idea for both, or a mix of the two.
As for characters, I'm very flexible: as long as there's a somewhat plausible reason for being drawn to the island, I'm fine with them being involved.
This sounds good - lots of potential, definitely interested
Great! I haven't done a new RP in a while, so hopefully I can keep things interesting.
I don't know how many people I would want for this, but I think a smaller group could be easier to work with.
If anyone so far has a preference for genre, feel free to let me know so I can better tailor this to you all.
Where do the dragons come in?
It’s an old nautical term used on maps to discuss a location that hasn’t been explored yet
In retrospect might not be the best name so I will try adjusting it to make better sense
Zimmy stiffened at the sudden outburst of Vangarian. She hadn't been expressly listening for it, only catching the words for "move" and "death", present-tense verbal form. She stood ramrod straight, her mind desperately searching back through half a decade of instruction. She'd taken years of Vangarian, and she'd been good, too.
"Fuck, uh..." she stumbled to her feet, pleased that she didn't stumble. "Wait!", she shouted in the foreign tongue, dashing toward the source of the disturbance. Shit, had she said wait, or waltz? They'd always confused her--no, she was sure she'd spoken correctly.
Nearly clipping Galahad as she mushed her way to the front, she bent over and panted at the sudden exertion, blinking away the sudden pain in her head as much as she could. "Not...enemies," she panted in Vangarian, though her mind was alight and nimble. It danced from word to word, touching off the neurons which held the language captive within. "We're just...dear lord, okay...We're just passing through." When she caught her breath, she stood up straight again and glanced at Gideon. They'd been Vangarian study-buddies as long as they'd been in the same squad. Mister Tactical Royalty, and her. He was far better at the language than she, despite her many months of practice.
The look was hopefully enough to convey some meaning without words. Meaning like how the hell, who the hell, what the hell? and--more to the point--You should probably start talking now before I say the wrong word or accent and get us all blown to hell, thank you. Well, it would hopefully convey a little of that.
"Fuck, uh..." she stumbled to her feet, pleased that she didn't stumble. "Wait!", she shouted in the foreign tongue, dashing toward the source of the disturbance. Shit, had she said wait, or waltz? They'd always confused her--no, she was sure she'd spoken correctly.
Nearly clipping Galahad as she mushed her way to the front, she bent over and panted at the sudden exertion, blinking away the sudden pain in her head as much as she could. "Not...enemies," she panted in Vangarian, though her mind was alight and nimble. It danced from word to word, touching off the neurons which held the language captive within. "We're just...dear lord, okay...We're just passing through." When she caught her breath, she stood up straight again and glanced at Gideon. They'd been Vangarian study-buddies as long as they'd been in the same squad. Mister Tactical Royalty, and her. He was far better at the language than she, despite her many months of practice.
The look was hopefully enough to convey some meaning without words. Meaning like how the hell, who the hell, what the hell? and--more to the point--You should probably start talking now before I say the wrong word or accent and get us all blown to hell, thank you. Well, it would hopefully convey a little of that.
July 7th, 2020: A city has appeared overnight.
In the blink of an eye, towering buildings rose from beneath the waves. One moment, nothing; the next, that particular patch of international waters was home to a sprawling metropolis. Streets, perfectly maintained, are hemmed in on all sides by parks, apartments, shopping centers, with several suburban districts circling the urban areas. By all accounts, this new city--rapidly dubbed "Atlantis" by the immediate social media buzz--is a perfect account of a thriving economy.
Except Atlantis, for all its perfections, is completely deserted. Every satellite image taken has revealed empty streets and empty beds. Every radar scan has revealed nothing but open air and modernized buildings. Sonar has shown nothing below the city, either: the metropolis appears to float on a flat plate just below the surface.
After several months, Atlantis was eventually dubbed 'non-threatening' by the governments of the world. Despite the lack of reliable intelligence from the structure, there had been no attacks, no alien or foreign assaults. It was just...there. Sitting out in the middle of the Atlantic. Weather patterns seemed to steer clear of the city, with satellites noting the strange, and oftentimes magical ways the clouds bent around the city's perimeter. Expeditions were mounted, to see what mysteries the city held inside its shining glory.
The real problem occurred only then: everyone who entered the city disappeared almost immediately. None have returned, including the Cessna 750 that decided to fly over the gleaming towers last month. Naturally, this has led to an explosive growth in Atlantean tourism. After the first few disappearances, most people have been smart enough--or cowardly enough--to avoid getting too close.
Most, but not all. For one reason or another, you find your way to the floating paradise, and to the mysteries within.
In the blink of an eye, towering buildings rose from beneath the waves. One moment, nothing; the next, that particular patch of international waters was home to a sprawling metropolis. Streets, perfectly maintained, are hemmed in on all sides by parks, apartments, shopping centers, with several suburban districts circling the urban areas. By all accounts, this new city--rapidly dubbed "Atlantis" by the immediate social media buzz--is a perfect account of a thriving economy.
Except Atlantis, for all its perfections, is completely deserted. Every satellite image taken has revealed empty streets and empty beds. Every radar scan has revealed nothing but open air and modernized buildings. Sonar has shown nothing below the city, either: the metropolis appears to float on a flat plate just below the surface.
After several months, Atlantis was eventually dubbed 'non-threatening' by the governments of the world. Despite the lack of reliable intelligence from the structure, there had been no attacks, no alien or foreign assaults. It was just...there. Sitting out in the middle of the Atlantic. Weather patterns seemed to steer clear of the city, with satellites noting the strange, and oftentimes magical ways the clouds bent around the city's perimeter. Expeditions were mounted, to see what mysteries the city held inside its shining glory.
The real problem occurred only then: everyone who entered the city disappeared almost immediately. None have returned, including the Cessna 750 that decided to fly over the gleaming towers last month. Naturally, this has led to an explosive growth in Atlantean tourism. After the first few disappearances, most people have been smart enough--or cowardly enough--to avoid getting too close.
Most, but not all. For one reason or another, you find your way to the floating paradise, and to the mysteries within.
An idea that cooked up in my head while I was procrastinating some other stuff today. Storyline is still flexible. No magical or scientific tropes have been ruled out as of yet
Time period: roughly modern-day.
Rules: be cool or whatever, be willing to go with the flow, etc
I haven't done this in a while so I'm not sure if I'm forgetting anything, feel free to ask questions
Previously named "Here Be Dragons", but was renamed for confusion.
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6 yrs ago
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Good news: she wasn't getting any worse. When Gideon got under her and gave her some support, she was able to grit her teeth and shake off some of the excess burning in her leg. It wasn't pain, not really: it was an insufferable need to move, to use more of the magic surrounding them. At first, it was like a hangover, but mist-users almost instinctively knew that pushing past stage 1 would result in utter glory. Better to nip that urge in the bud now.
"Thanks, Gid," she said quietly, modulating her breathing carefully to keep herself from losing it. The breathing helped, the shaking helped. Anything to get the energy out. She let Kitty's comment roll off her back, this time: no point in acting smug when it was her own damn fault. Let it go, bit by bit, Morander. Easy does it.
They were still at risk here. She couldn't go running around willy-nilly to burn off the energy. One wrong move and she'd enter a Mist spot, and those didn't really give you a choice about burning yourself to a cinder. They did it for you. "I'm good, Gideon. It's not as bad as I first thought." Of course, they couldn't be too careful, but Zimmy was pretty confident in her knowledge of her own body. If not for the manic Mist around them, none of this would have ever happened; she'd simply miscalculated how much energy was in the air.
When Lee walked up to her, she felt a flash of emotion that was...maybe irritation? She'd already said how much of an idiot she was, right? Didn't need it to be rubbed in. Whatever it was, Zimmy looked away, shrugging at his question. "Leg just locked up with the burn. Don't think there's any physical damage. Just my pride."
She got to her feet. No way in hell would she sit around while everyone else risked their lives. Of course she wouldn't use the Mist, but they had weapons around here somewhere. "Be a doll, Lee, and grab something dangerous for us to hold. Y'know, while we meander into, like, a nuclear warhead or whatever." She walked toward the escape pod, each step sturdier than the last.
Just walking it off.
"Thanks, Gid," she said quietly, modulating her breathing carefully to keep herself from losing it. The breathing helped, the shaking helped. Anything to get the energy out. She let Kitty's comment roll off her back, this time: no point in acting smug when it was her own damn fault. Let it go, bit by bit, Morander. Easy does it.
They were still at risk here. She couldn't go running around willy-nilly to burn off the energy. One wrong move and she'd enter a Mist spot, and those didn't really give you a choice about burning yourself to a cinder. They did it for you. "I'm good, Gideon. It's not as bad as I first thought." Of course, they couldn't be too careful, but Zimmy was pretty confident in her knowledge of her own body. If not for the manic Mist around them, none of this would have ever happened; she'd simply miscalculated how much energy was in the air.
When Lee walked up to her, she felt a flash of emotion that was...maybe irritation? She'd already said how much of an idiot she was, right? Didn't need it to be rubbed in. Whatever it was, Zimmy looked away, shrugging at his question. "Leg just locked up with the burn. Don't think there's any physical damage. Just my pride."
She got to her feet. No way in hell would she sit around while everyone else risked their lives. Of course she wouldn't use the Mist, but they had weapons around here somewhere. "Be a doll, Lee, and grab something dangerous for us to hold. Y'know, while we meander into, like, a nuclear warhead or whatever." She walked toward the escape pod, each step sturdier than the last.
Just walking it off.
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