This is perfectly different from the run-of-the-mill zombie RP, and I'm loving it. If you'll have me, I can make a character or two for this.
Also, curiosity begs me to ask how many of us are from the English countryside, as I am?
teapotshark Member
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- teapotshark 11 yrs ago
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Pre-Guildfall, 2008. Communication is what makes a lasting roleplay.
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Zombie apocalyspe survival rp, taking place on an English countryside farm
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Hey, hoping you feel better soon. My mother has Gastroparesis, so I totally understand if you're feeling too unwell to post. We're still here!
As for suggestions, there could be a duo of selfish, somewhat unstable survivors who look to take all of our characters' stuff and prosper, or maybe they're just nuts. Co-GMs can play those characters. Then there's the chance to play around with the weather. We could create a storm that tears through our survivors' environment, makes it harder for them to spot the undead or find suitable shelter.
I think our characters' main goals are to survive and find a safe place to hole up.
As for suggestions, there could be a duo of selfish, somewhat unstable survivors who look to take all of our characters' stuff and prosper, or maybe they're just nuts. Co-GMs can play those characters. Then there's the chance to play around with the weather. We could create a storm that tears through our survivors' environment, makes it harder for them to spot the undead or find suitable shelter.
I think our characters' main goals are to survive and find a safe place to hole up.
I'm happy to be a reserve.
You have my invested interest. I'll work on a character tomorrow and post it OOC, if that's all good?
FaithsRose said Do you think your trio could meet up with Mercy and Olivia? Once Joshua has posted ^^
That's my plan!
And duly noted, Ayesha.
Just waiting on Joshua to post so our trio can move forward.
Hooray! Welcome back.
Slipping into the conference room as quietly as possible, and for a woman of her height it wasn't exactly difficult to accomplish, Phoebe picked up a copy of the script and a muffin and took a seat by the wall. Actors reserved the seats at the table, without any official booking, it was like an unspoken rule of Hollywood. Phoebe didn't mind it at all, she much preferred to watch the fledgling performances of the readthrough, and a position at the back of the room supplied her with the best view.
With Zolner and someone she couldn't quite name already preparing, Phoebe bunkered down, drawing her legs up onto the seat and crossing them, and hid herself behind the script.
On accepting the job she received a rundown of the plot and a first draft of the script to start work from. A collection of sketches, designs and prototypes for props sat comfortably in a box workroom on the other side of the studio lot. Flicking through the script, Phoebe grinned to herself and took a bite from the muffin. This project was going to be so much fun, she just knew it; movies like Point Blank required the best, most realistic props. Making props was an art form, and the same could be said about organising, producing and any small part of making a movie. Phoebe treated herself to another mouthful of muffin, but her delight was cut short by the arrival of Harris Klein.
She sunk into her chair, silent, and went completely unnoticed by the actor. It may have been the distraction of pastries, or even his apparent disapproval of the script, but she was thankful nonetheless. She wasn't scared of him, not Harris Klein, the hulking great beast of a man with an expert eye for detail who could pluck out your mistakes and dangle them in front of you... no, she wasn't scared. Wary, yes, and certainly surprised to see him again, but scared? Never.
The people began filtering in as the clock tick-tocked on, and the more people she recognised the more relaxation seeped into her joints. Soon enough, her trademark grin crept back onto her face. She watched people meander to the food table–– Oh no... is that? ––Ella Lindgren.
Phoebe dropped her legs and sat up straight. In that exact moment, more than anything, she wanted to dart over and say hello and talk about Excaliber and ivory trade and Ella's brilliant photography. But that would be too much, wouldn't it? So instead she smiled politely when Ella seemed to glance in her vague direction, waved, and said, “Hello.”
With Zolner and someone she couldn't quite name already preparing, Phoebe bunkered down, drawing her legs up onto the seat and crossing them, and hid herself behind the script.
On accepting the job she received a rundown of the plot and a first draft of the script to start work from. A collection of sketches, designs and prototypes for props sat comfortably in a box workroom on the other side of the studio lot. Flicking through the script, Phoebe grinned to herself and took a bite from the muffin. This project was going to be so much fun, she just knew it; movies like Point Blank required the best, most realistic props. Making props was an art form, and the same could be said about organising, producing and any small part of making a movie. Phoebe treated herself to another mouthful of muffin, but her delight was cut short by the arrival of Harris Klein.
She sunk into her chair, silent, and went completely unnoticed by the actor. It may have been the distraction of pastries, or even his apparent disapproval of the script, but she was thankful nonetheless. She wasn't scared of him, not Harris Klein, the hulking great beast of a man with an expert eye for detail who could pluck out your mistakes and dangle them in front of you... no, she wasn't scared. Wary, yes, and certainly surprised to see him again, but scared? Never.
The people began filtering in as the clock tick-tocked on, and the more people she recognised the more relaxation seeped into her joints. Soon enough, her trademark grin crept back onto her face. She watched people meander to the food table–– Oh no... is that? ––Ella Lindgren.
Phoebe dropped her legs and sat up straight. In that exact moment, more than anything, she wanted to dart over and say hello and talk about Excaliber and ivory trade and Ella's brilliant photography. But that would be too much, wouldn't it? So instead she smiled politely when Ella seemed to glance in her vague direction, waved, and said, “Hello.”
I have a post, I didn't want to jump ahead and post again before everyone got a chance, but I can if we need to.
Voila, Alexine and I make a triumphant return.
Well, maybe she's triumphant. I still have extended essays and exams to work on. Forget Dasmira, pray for me.
Well, maybe she's triumphant. I still have extended essays and exams to work on. Forget Dasmira, pray for me.
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