The coat weighted him down more than the waves, which seemed to smack him every time the Frenchman tried to get back to the surface. Amidst it all he forgot the techniques to stay floating, not that he ever thought he’d have to remember, so at this point Nathaniel, a sad image, was just flailing with his eyes shut, fighting the ocean as well as his own panic. The seawater managed to keep him up, but he sure had to cough it all out when someone grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him right next to a raft as he squealed an embarrassingly weak noise. He hung onto the thing instinctively with both arms, his eyes still half closed and hurting from the salt, panting, swearing. When one of his eyelids tore itself upwards at last his mind began settling into the situation at hand. This was bad, but statitics were in his favor, or so he read. Bad luck lets a skeptic’s mind finally be optimistic for once. Good philosophy, potentially. He’ll tell someone once he gets rescued – in about ten hours maximum.
He attempted to push the hair back from his view with his left hand and almost got pulled down again, so the job wasn’t done. He gazed around through his wet, dangling fringe and swore again. Unless they find land he’ll be in this unfortunate situation for a long time. He waited for a wave to help him up with minimal dignity and at the right moment hoisted himself on board the raft. Still he landed the way unfit people climbed out of the pool: on their stomach, pathetically. Nathaniel got straight and slid to the back of the raft where he took broader gander around, still only with one eye. The facts were there. Their scene he was in mesmerized the medical student for a while, as he lost focus and begun comparing it to what he would have imagined a plane crash to be like beforehand. He made use of his fingernails to comb through his hair again, finding that everything was unbearably sticky, and his mouth still tasted too salty. And his phone wad gone. Miserable disposition.
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I was rushing to make that since I didn't want to be too late to this party, is it alright?
Name: Nathaniel Schwartz
Age: 24
Height and Weight: 1m86, 76 kg
Personality: At home he is notably opinionated person, very open-minded in debates between ideas but very stubborn when it comes to the more practical things, like sharing or cooperating when with roommates. He’s a bit inert and aloof when nothing sparks his interest, and gets bored rather easily, but sometimes he becomes manic, eccentrically reactive. He has a tendency to be blunt and sighs a lot, making sure everyone knows how irritated he is, which in turn definitely irritated them. He reads into things other people say, and is a bit self-absorbed in the way he thinks a lot of people are belittling them when they’re only trying to help.
History: Nathaniel Schwarz grew up in Alsace, France, and was, other than being slightly more academically motived than others, rather average. From a young age he was fascinated with a range of different subjects, adept in being extremely passionate about learning more on it and then forgetting the whole thing entirely. His parents were intellectuals, well-endowed intellectuals in fact, and supported this kind of behavior naturally. He ended up the annoying smart kid, but the only thing exceptional he’d done was skip sixth grade, the grade where you learn nothing but how to organize a locker, basically. And maybe he would have benefitted from this, being pretty a rather scattered person in general. But in the end his efforts still paid off and he got a partial scholarship. Things were going smoothly, and with the help of his parents he already had his life planned out – he had just finished pre-med and was flying to Japan for medical school abroad – until things started running off the intended path and then right into the middle of the ocean, apparently.
Belongings: Most of his belongings are on another plane, and whatever belongings he had on hand were lost to the sea, so this doesn’t really matter. The only thing he currently possesses is a black pen, a pencil and an eraser. Soaking wet.
Fear/Disability: His English grammar is crap, which may come by inconvenient. He can’t swim that well and never really played non-mandatory sports, not from lack of experience but because he just never wanted to – and thus he is not going to be the best survivor. His fears consists of normal things, but he’s especially jumpy about gross stuff. Nathaniel does not like getting dirty. Sinc he's going to be a doctor, he's alright with guts and blood - just not weird slimy substances and such. He's also not very cooperative and is a reserved character, which I guess is bad.
Age: 24
Height and Weight: 1m86, 76 kg
Personality: At home he is notably opinionated person, very open-minded in debates between ideas but very stubborn when it comes to the more practical things, like sharing or cooperating when with roommates. He’s a bit inert and aloof when nothing sparks his interest, and gets bored rather easily, but sometimes he becomes manic, eccentrically reactive. He has a tendency to be blunt and sighs a lot, making sure everyone knows how irritated he is, which in turn definitely irritated them. He reads into things other people say, and is a bit self-absorbed in the way he thinks a lot of people are belittling them when they’re only trying to help.
History: Nathaniel Schwarz grew up in Alsace, France, and was, other than being slightly more academically motived than others, rather average. From a young age he was fascinated with a range of different subjects, adept in being extremely passionate about learning more on it and then forgetting the whole thing entirely. His parents were intellectuals, well-endowed intellectuals in fact, and supported this kind of behavior naturally. He ended up the annoying smart kid, but the only thing exceptional he’d done was skip sixth grade, the grade where you learn nothing but how to organize a locker, basically. And maybe he would have benefitted from this, being pretty a rather scattered person in general. But in the end his efforts still paid off and he got a partial scholarship. Things were going smoothly, and with the help of his parents he already had his life planned out – he had just finished pre-med and was flying to Japan for medical school abroad – until things started running off the intended path and then right into the middle of the ocean, apparently.
Belongings: Most of his belongings are on another plane, and whatever belongings he had on hand were lost to the sea, so this doesn’t really matter. The only thing he currently possesses is a black pen, a pencil and an eraser. Soaking wet.
Fear/Disability: His English grammar is crap, which may come by inconvenient. He can’t swim that well and never really played non-mandatory sports, not from lack of experience but because he just never wanted to – and thus he is not going to be the best survivor. His fears consists of normal things, but he’s especially jumpy about gross stuff. Nathaniel does not like getting dirty. Sinc he's going to be a doctor, he's alright with guts and blood - just not weird slimy substances and such. He's also not very cooperative and is a reserved character, which I guess is bad.
(blond hair blue eyes what a white boy)Damn, now I'm intrigued about Yoyo's character. I hate being curious, now I can't wait (I was planning on falling asleep after reading the new replies...). Anyways, how much of the town have you got so far?
So when do you think this roleplay is going to start in relation to now? I kind of live in a weird timezone (I apologize to those who've noticed my weird avatar switching. just realized this site only accepts jpg)
Wooops everyone's already settled in and i only just submitted... is it still alright? I didn't notice the fact that there were 4 pages already, ahha....
TheWindel said
@Athos. Yes, you will each be in control of where you all start. This will be heavily reliant on player interaction. As for conversation....er, hello everyone? I'm a robot?
But if we just start, then it's assumed that half or a little less than half of the characters get starting scenes and the rest will reply to a scene of their choice, with hopefully even distribution, right? How is it organized? Sorry if it’s apparent, I’m not all that familiar with one-thread RPs
...I didn't notice how long that was until i posted it, sorry this always happens when I roleplay, ugh
Appearance
Name: Yagi Ai
Age: 19
Faction: Librarian
Personality: “Cheap trick” is an expression that truly solidifies into the person that is Ai. An opportunist in his faction, he pulls off well as both a fellow cause-loyal rioter and an oblivious citizen within all the chaos, although to his friends in the faction it really just seems like good cover-up. Of course, some will become wary of his absence from many key riots, but nobody can say anything against him as it is however easy to get loss in the mess. The majority of his contacts are with the scattered radicals within the rebels, those who rob and kidnap and leave their companions to die on the run “for freedom!”, of which Ai has become very well acquainted with. Equipped with experience and a way with words, he rose from a minimum of painless imprisonments to becoming specialized in blackmail missions and extortions, rarely ever resorting to real physical violence, although he does know how to wield sharp objects. He is surprisingly cautious under his shock of black hair, constantly fleeing from places too well known, and clever in a way, but even through the charming façade he is developing a sense of paranoia, and oftentimes tries to walk at the back of a group of people of which he knows there are several in position of sharp objects, in fear of being stabbed from behind. This even manifests in a sort of insecure arrogance that of course wouldn’t show, but manifests itself in the feeling that somebody is always judging his looks and strut, or in the need to completely either humiliate, fool or downright feel in control of others to unconsciously prove to himself that he is better, that he’s really the smarter one, that he is amazing.
History: Although he comes from a poor enough family, his parents, recognizing the importance of such, dedicated a great sum of money into his education, even buying him books outside of regular school and forcing him to read and memorize important information. The child grew bored easily, but found out cheats and systems to only read the essential things that would impress his parents and teachers – otherwise Ai didn’t care much about anything but mundane child antics with his friends. Skipped pages of books and running around barefoot were almost the entirety of his early childhood. Approaching his early teens, though, Ai became progressively sicker, often having to lie in bed days on end with a high fever, and although they put up with it the first month, having to believe that this shall pass, on the second the resolution his parents made was to sell the furniture for money. On the third they sold clothes, on the fourth they sold the curtains and all the sheets except for the one their son lied under. Every time he showed signs of recovery the family was dipped in the most joyous atmosphere such an empty, tiny house could express. Every time his health dropped, even the neighbors felt the brooding silence that fell with it. On the fifth his books were sold, and the most prestigious doctor they could have possibly afforded was found and slowly cured the boy. On the first days of his return to the outside world, the frail teenager noticed a shift in the attitude of people. Everyone was so sorry for him, but everyone was so sorry in such a condescending way. And now he didn’t go to school anymore, his life being in a state of recovery. Now he was unfortunate, passively unfortunate. “He was such a bright, hardworking boy, the poor dear!” They went on and on with the terrifying implication that those five months of inactivity had made him dumb, weak, useless. As if it’s alright to imply this because he was sick. That entire year for his family was horrible with or without the empty sympathy. And that’s what he begun to feel. Empty, aggressively, actively empty.
With fiscal matters becoming the silent weight on family dinners that grew shorter, blander and soggier every day, Ai was determined to do something. Empty and angry from the mockery of passivity, as he dared think it, hopelessness, the teenager stepped into the places he understood the contents of but never entered. He could not be strong due to his past ailments, but he was quick and good at keeping out of trouble. He pretended to have a cause, to denounce the government that he read exactly two pages about, delivered rousing speeches with hints of flattery directed towards each audience he met. He shone like before, and he got money from it. On his way home he bought fish and legumes, telling his parents that he’d have caught and foraged it all with his own two hands. This grew until eventually his parents got themselves a small piece of land to farm on, around the time he grew up and set off on his own, with a knife and some friends. Through the years he’d have become a criminal… but for the Librarian, so it’s alright to the few chosen people that accompany him. And he’s alright, he thought, if there were at least this whole community approving of him. He’s still empty now from the terror of that fever, but Ai knows exactly what he’s doing.
Tome: Probably the only book he really cares about. As a book, it is small, vertically the length of an adult hand and horizontally maybe the width of the wrist. It is completely covered in thin-looking black leather, and the empty pages are yellowish in color. There are no markings or anything special on the cover, but the endpapers are pale silver coloured, tin-foil-like pieces with intricate carvings on them of flowers and monsters, maybe telling a story... although if that’s the case Ai really has no idea what it is. It also seems as if the flowers and monsters moved, some disappearing from the paper completely, others appearing in the middle of it out of nowhere. Its owner never finds the time to investigate or even stare at the paper long enough to see any movement, though.
Activated, it is a sharp, finger-sized knife that bends up just a bit nearing its tiny point – not his usual dagger for extortions, which looks smartly threatening but otherwise mediocre. This is more the kind that peels apples and stabs backs. It is apparently made out of smooth glass, and is completely transparent if one didn’t pay attention, appearing only a tiny bit more clearly to Ai. The nameless dagger (he fails to see why a name is necessary) is very much unbreakable, and actually extremely tough; its transparence is reinforced by the fact that when dust or any other filth lands on it, it slides off immediately. A meager ability. Right?
Name: Yagi Ai
Age: 19
Faction: Librarian
Personality: “Cheap trick” is an expression that truly solidifies into the person that is Ai. An opportunist in his faction, he pulls off well as both a fellow cause-loyal rioter and an oblivious citizen within all the chaos, although to his friends in the faction it really just seems like good cover-up. Of course, some will become wary of his absence from many key riots, but nobody can say anything against him as it is however easy to get loss in the mess. The majority of his contacts are with the scattered radicals within the rebels, those who rob and kidnap and leave their companions to die on the run “for freedom!”, of which Ai has become very well acquainted with. Equipped with experience and a way with words, he rose from a minimum of painless imprisonments to becoming specialized in blackmail missions and extortions, rarely ever resorting to real physical violence, although he does know how to wield sharp objects. He is surprisingly cautious under his shock of black hair, constantly fleeing from places too well known, and clever in a way, but even through the charming façade he is developing a sense of paranoia, and oftentimes tries to walk at the back of a group of people of which he knows there are several in position of sharp objects, in fear of being stabbed from behind. This even manifests in a sort of insecure arrogance that of course wouldn’t show, but manifests itself in the feeling that somebody is always judging his looks and strut, or in the need to completely either humiliate, fool or downright feel in control of others to unconsciously prove to himself that he is better, that he’s really the smarter one, that he is amazing.
History: Although he comes from a poor enough family, his parents, recognizing the importance of such, dedicated a great sum of money into his education, even buying him books outside of regular school and forcing him to read and memorize important information. The child grew bored easily, but found out cheats and systems to only read the essential things that would impress his parents and teachers – otherwise Ai didn’t care much about anything but mundane child antics with his friends. Skipped pages of books and running around barefoot were almost the entirety of his early childhood. Approaching his early teens, though, Ai became progressively sicker, often having to lie in bed days on end with a high fever, and although they put up with it the first month, having to believe that this shall pass, on the second the resolution his parents made was to sell the furniture for money. On the third they sold clothes, on the fourth they sold the curtains and all the sheets except for the one their son lied under. Every time he showed signs of recovery the family was dipped in the most joyous atmosphere such an empty, tiny house could express. Every time his health dropped, even the neighbors felt the brooding silence that fell with it. On the fifth his books were sold, and the most prestigious doctor they could have possibly afforded was found and slowly cured the boy. On the first days of his return to the outside world, the frail teenager noticed a shift in the attitude of people. Everyone was so sorry for him, but everyone was so sorry in such a condescending way. And now he didn’t go to school anymore, his life being in a state of recovery. Now he was unfortunate, passively unfortunate. “He was such a bright, hardworking boy, the poor dear!” They went on and on with the terrifying implication that those five months of inactivity had made him dumb, weak, useless. As if it’s alright to imply this because he was sick. That entire year for his family was horrible with or without the empty sympathy. And that’s what he begun to feel. Empty, aggressively, actively empty.
With fiscal matters becoming the silent weight on family dinners that grew shorter, blander and soggier every day, Ai was determined to do something. Empty and angry from the mockery of passivity, as he dared think it, hopelessness, the teenager stepped into the places he understood the contents of but never entered. He could not be strong due to his past ailments, but he was quick and good at keeping out of trouble. He pretended to have a cause, to denounce the government that he read exactly two pages about, delivered rousing speeches with hints of flattery directed towards each audience he met. He shone like before, and he got money from it. On his way home he bought fish and legumes, telling his parents that he’d have caught and foraged it all with his own two hands. This grew until eventually his parents got themselves a small piece of land to farm on, around the time he grew up and set off on his own, with a knife and some friends. Through the years he’d have become a criminal… but for the Librarian, so it’s alright to the few chosen people that accompany him. And he’s alright, he thought, if there were at least this whole community approving of him. He’s still empty now from the terror of that fever, but Ai knows exactly what he’s doing.
Tome: Probably the only book he really cares about. As a book, it is small, vertically the length of an adult hand and horizontally maybe the width of the wrist. It is completely covered in thin-looking black leather, and the empty pages are yellowish in color. There are no markings or anything special on the cover, but the endpapers are pale silver coloured, tin-foil-like pieces with intricate carvings on them of flowers and monsters, maybe telling a story... although if that’s the case Ai really has no idea what it is. It also seems as if the flowers and monsters moved, some disappearing from the paper completely, others appearing in the middle of it out of nowhere. Its owner never finds the time to investigate or even stare at the paper long enough to see any movement, though.
Activated, it is a sharp, finger-sized knife that bends up just a bit nearing its tiny point – not his usual dagger for extortions, which looks smartly threatening but otherwise mediocre. This is more the kind that peels apples and stabs backs. It is apparently made out of smooth glass, and is completely transparent if one didn’t pay attention, appearing only a tiny bit more clearly to Ai. The nameless dagger (he fails to see why a name is necessary) is very much unbreakable, and actually extremely tough; its transparence is reinforced by the fact that when dust or any other filth lands on it, it slides off immediately. A meager ability. Right?
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