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Current Mood in One Gif

Thoughts on pre-made characters/roles?

If anything, you can argue that making your own character adds a minuscule level of investment as compared to having the character built for you.

@ArenaSnow

Although I agree that this site is plagued by players with inadequate attention spans, I don't see how you came to this conclusion in particular...

Now, premade characters I will not do for the same reason why I rarely, if ever, play canon characters from a particular 'verse. The main reason is investment. There's branches, but really, if I don't create the character and thus know every niche of the character's personality, then I don't actually care.

After saying this, not a moment earlier.

It was this potential I had mentioned though; I do believe that if players join an RP while knowing they are limited to a specific set of characters to chose from, it's likely they may end up more invested. This idea assumes that people enjoy the act of role playing, more than the act of creating characters. Creating a character, when contrasted with actually acting that character out over a long period of time, is something easy and enjoyable that people can do. I would say that a great deal of people on this site enjoy creating characters much more than actually fleshing them out, or playing as them for long period of time.

I assert that it's for this reason - Character creation is fun and easy - that there's an endemic of people losing interest forum wide. The characters they create may be the only things that they're invested in, even if they're usually inspired by a particular RP. But since they have no hand in the functions of the universe they're role-playing in, they're far more likely to bail.

Now this might sound selfish...But that's because it is.

This is also why 1x1's are so successful. They're more often than not, a collaborative effort in both character creation, and world-building. This is also why the idea of predetermined characters has some merit, as it retroactively weeds out those people who aren't actually all that interested in role playing, but rather, character creation.

It's also worthy to note that Roleplaying and Writing are NOT mutually inclusive. Some people enjoy Writing more than they do Playing a Role.

Caravan: Resurrection

Nillium Encampment, The Burroughs
_{3rd of Summer - 9:22 PM}

Locke slowly tip-toed through the alley, burdened by a sudden fit of hiccups that made his entire torso pop upwards every few seconds. The shadow of his blade stretched even longer against the far wall of the alley until Mop's shadow melted into the background, and his face peered into view. He looked through his scraggly, water-logged hair, catching a glimpse of Paric first.

"Philip?" He mumbled, "You look pointier than usual." Locke's eyes settled on the Eldi's pointed ears. He grasped the hilt of his sword - a thinner, longer variant of blade more common in the north - and lowered his eyes until they reached the man's hands. They shot back up in an instant and he slowly released his grip on the empty wine bottle he was holding. "Oh-" The moment it took him to realize what was going on was all the time Paric had to react.

Mop dashed into a sprint and dropped the bottle in his left hand. His footsteps were unusually silent as he proceeded, rousing only the slightest splash of noise as he stepped through a puddle that separated him from Paric and Ayer. He stopped hard on his right foot and twisted his body clockwise, clutching both hands onto the hilt of his blade. Locke's muscles bulged with a sudden influx of mass, and his once glassy eyes grew clear in an instant. Within moments, before the shattered glass behind him even had the chance to settle, he was upon the Eldi fire mage with his blade held low at his hip with both hands, poised to strike. The once aloof Captain pulled his blade upwards at a diagonal angle, using his waist and legs to erupt into an upwards slash aimed to sever Paric's torso from hip to shoulder in a single devastating blow.

Baeshri Pass, Caravan Centaurus
_{3rd of Summer - 10:27 PM}

Zay considered killing both of the newcomers on the spot for their commentary alone.

"Watch your mouth, little missy," Neal huffed, stepping in front of the rest of Centaurus' crew, "Druid or not, most would take what you've said as a threat." Zay reached up to Neal's shoulder and patted him away from the newcomers.

"Neal, shut up," He said quietly. Neal pulled his arm away from Zay and almost brought it back down into the back of his head. The only thing stopping him was... Well, he wasn't really sure. There were plenty of reasons to whack Mr Copp across the back of the head, and he'd only known the man for a few hours. Zay sat back down at the rounded table that sat at the room's center and sighed. "We'd be glad to share our tale of woes with a couple of wandering love-birds. Pardon my associate's mood. He's recently had to deal with almost getting his arm... Uh, torn off." Neal spun around and glared at Zay with his mouth half-open. The disgruntled Captain grit his teeth when he noticed that Captain Copp was smiling and half-snickering to himself. His eyes danced between Flin and Zay for a moment, and then he looked to Noru, hoping for a single voice of reason to side with his cautious outlook. Noru looked away, and then back to Neal before shrugging.

"Druids are not known for their hostility," Noru said quietly. Zay snickered to himself again.

Neal almost collapsed under his own weight.

"Read a book sometime, Captain," Zay mocked. Neal slumped away from the two druids and leaned against the wall next to where Lyullia was resting. He didn't trust the druids at all. Their appearance was just... Far too coincidental. Zay looked at them and beckoned them forwards. "Sit, sit. I'd be the active Captain, since you're asking. Name's Zay Copp, and as far as I know, I haven't been missing since I was a kid." He reached underneath the table and opened a drawer, rummaging quietly for something to snack on. There should have been a couple of rations still hanging loose. He'd stored them there for just such an occasion during their trip. "Welcome to Caravan Centaurus."

Which...

no

@ArenaSnow

Sleep Paralysis

I had it twice, and thought it might have been a symptom of early psychosis before I knew what it was. It felt more like a dream TBH. Both times I somehow ended up sleeping on my back, and was majorly sleep deprived, though. Sleep deprivation is one of the leading causes of bad shit, so I would suggest just... Sleeping enough.

Also don’t open your fucking eyes holy shit

Caravan: Resurrection

Berganfont, Main Square
_{4th of Summer - 8:53 AM}

The square was as dull as ever in the morning sun. Most mornings in Berganfont were just the same. The town guard were still lurking about the High Houses, trolling the streets for any unsavory fellows that might've wandered up from the dank basin of the city. Homeless folk, eager salesmen, and a flurry of curious children liked to cross the Darkened Bridge and lurk between the alleys of rich-folk. There was money to be earned, or stolen, if you knew where to look. But with so many goons of the church doing their morning runs, it was a risky task to try and screw with the big-wigs. The closer anyone got to the Black Cathedral, the more dangerous it was for them. God forbid they were caught by an actual clergymen, or one of those wretched bishops. Getting a beating from the armored muscle heads that wandered the streets was nothing compared to whatever the hell happened to anyone that found themselves escorted into the cathedral.

It was too early for trouble to brew in the lower districts though.

Lilith's keg was usually one of the first places to open. Sometimes her kids would set the bar and get the breakfast orders ready, sometimes it would be Lilith herself. That place was a chaotic mess, but that didn't change the fact that the Low Houses appreciated their efforts. It would only be a few more minutes before either Lilith or one of the boys would lower the crude chain that 'prevented' intruders from waltzing inside. Nobody was low enough to rob Lilith, so it didn't really matter, but that didn't stop everyone from worrying.

The nearby houses had already been lit, marking the early hours of Berganfont's community as it sprung to life. Soon the square would be filling with the usual. Crooks, beggars, civilians of every shape and size, all sharing one thing in common.

They were broke.

Caravan ~ A Mid-Fantasy, lore heavy RP. Adventure, Action, and Mystery focused.

Caravan has stabilized all new entries, and opened two more slots. Consult with me via PM, the main OOC thread, or the group discord for more details.

Edit: Slots are taken, and registration will closed for a while.

Are Traps Gay

Traps are in fact gay. They might not be homosexual, but they’re definitely fucking gay.

Thoughts on pre-made characters/roles?

Part of the appeal behind roleplaying is character creation. However, seeoing how many people end up spamming the forum with characters and following through on none of them, I can see the potential in this idea. I have no interest myself though.

Caravan: Resurrection

Nillium Encampment, The Burroughs
_{3rd of Summer - 9:20 PM}

Philip turned right into the concussive blast, and before he even knew what was going on, his body was propelled across the sunken alley, and against the building opposite to where Ayer stood. He hit the brick with a satisfying thud back-first, and landed on the ground with his head just barely tilted forwards. Despite their sneak attack, it looked like Philip was able to keep conscious, even after bumping his head. The man kept himself from falling forward with both hands and slowly tried to left himself up.

"Hall..p.. Help.." His voice was a quiet breathy murmur, and he wobbled from side to side. What just happened? He looked up to see Ayer wielding his strange machine and narrowed his eye to try and make out his features. Philip didn't know what he looked like, but that weapon of his would give him away if he could just focus. But before he could manage any completely thoughts, his consciousness quickly faded, and the man fell forwards chest-first into the damp concrete beneath him.

From the edge of the Alley, just out of site from where Ayer and Paric were standing, heavy footsteps began to echo towards them. At first, that's all they would hear. But the approaching man's shadow was cast wide against the left wall by moonlight. The shape of his upper body stretched far, but with a metallic swish, the shadow grew even longer as he drew a blade from his waist.

"Hey hey, Phi*HICK*lip. No breaks! No breaks! What're you doin' back here?"

Nillium Encampment, The West Wall
_{3rd of Summer - 9:20 PM}

Looking out into the forests that surrounding Nillium, several men and women were lining the edge of the encampment's wall. Among them stood Bertha Nillium, the Don's beloved sister, and her two favorite henchmen, Joseph Bristle, and Larry Norwell. Of the many nameless grunts that polluted the city of Nillium, those two were especially tactless. Most of the gang's members at least adhered to some kind of moral foundation, but those who served under Bertha had a terrible habit of ignoring the rules. Being second-hand to the Don had its perks, and none of them boded well for anyone who ticked off that woman in any way, shape or form. Of course, she was just as shameless as her underlings. When the Nilliums had first 'acquired' Ayer, she suggested that the Don immediately resort to more sinister means in order to unravel the man's designs. Whether that amounted to torture, murder, or more subtle strategies didn't bother her in the slightest. But the Don was a reasonable man. He liked to consider all of his options before resorting to senseless violence.

The forests were silent today. Unlike everyone else in town, Bertha was one of the few who decided to keep herself separated from her brother's silly witch-hunt. If they had just gone with her ideas from that start, Ayer wouldn't have even been an issue! But keeping watch at the wall was pretty boring. Most of the time, Bertha would convince the guards to just play cards with her, rather than keep an eye out. That's probably why people were able to sneak into Nillium to begin with. Bertha and her cronies had a lot of pull, and they were a negative influence in more ways than one.

"Full house!" Bertha shrieked, "Whattaya got? Lay 'em out boys!" Joseph smiled and laid his hand flat, but Larry just tossed his cards away.

"Four of a kind," Joseph announced. He cheated, as he often would, but Bertha knew it. She laughed it off and shoved her snacks across the table.

"Yeh win again you filthy cheatin' bastard!"

"Bertha," Larry started, "We should probably keep an eye out-"

"Shut it!" Bertha growled, "Don't be such a spoil sport! Nobody's stupid enough to screw with the Nilliums! Any spies that get through won't be gettin' any information that 'ain't already public!" Larry rolled his eyes and stood up. "Where ya goin?"

"Sick of losin'?" Joseph gawked.

"Sick of bein' made to lose, jackass," He said calmly. Larry made his way to one of the many staircases that lined the wall and sighed. He stopped for a second. "Gonna go get some more food." Bertha rolled her eyes.

"Put anything else in that tummy'o yours and you'll end up more fat than man," she said quietly. Joseph snickered at her little insult. Larry didn't waste any time acknowledging it, and quickly sped downstairs. With their third player gone, suddenly rigged poker wasn't any fun. Larry's reactions were what made it worthwhile after all! It's not like they were betting coin or anything, anyways.

"He'll be back, miss," Joseph assured Bertha. But she didn't seemed convinced. Her attitude quickly drooped and she slunk into her chair like an angst ridden teenager with her arms crossed over her chest. "Don't ya go worrying yourself."

"He hates me," She pouted. Joseph rolled his eyes with a gentle chuckle.

"If he hated you, the boy wouldn't be so loyal. There are plenty of other posts for a man with his talents. I Reckon there's some reason he follows you around." Bertha blew at a strand of hair that clung to her sweaty cheek. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it." She rolled her eyes.

"Shut up Jo."

Nillium Encampment, ???
_{3rd of Summer - 9:30 PM}

There was nowhere mustier than the dank underground tunnels that ran between Nillium's sewer system. Pipes and cracks were littered throughout the open-topped trenches that the city used to disposed of its waste, leading liquid and garbage from one trench to the next. A few of those tunnels served a purpose beyond that, though. Only a few people know about the underground networks, and even fewer had direct access to them through some parts of the city. But for every Nillium that had permission to be stomping through those filthy escape routes, there was somebody who didn't.

The tunnels weren't all that well hidden if people were willing to dive into the shit-filled trenches that ran across town. For some, that was the only option. Much like Ayer, there were many visitors that didn't like the idea of working for the Don, or staying in the Nillium encampment. Others simply couldn't contribute anything to the continued growth of their town. Since the tunnels rarely saw any practical use, as the town itself had not fallen under siege in years, homeless bums and renegades made them their home. Although there wasn't any sense of community underneath Nillium, a few vagabonds would cooperate from time to time if they saw the need to. It was because of their combined efforts, that the tunnels were rarely combed. The Don had more important things to worry about then a few losers mucking up his sewers. To him, they were merely trash that didn't even deserve a proper cleanup. Going through the expansive tunnels would have been a pointless effort, anyways. It was almost impossible to sneak up on anybody in the winding network without making a splash. At least, that's what most people thought.

One of Nillium's bums was panting heavily in the tunnels beneath the city with his back and hands pressed firmly into the smoothed tunnel wall. His chest jutted out rapidly with every breath, but he tried his best to constrict every last movement he made.

'calm yourself willie, the gin's makin' you see things'

His desperate attempt to calm himself had been pointless. He heard it again. A familiar tapping against the walls of the tunnel. Something metal tapped rhythmically. One-two, one-two. Then the humming started again, moving in sync with the metal tapping. 'Mh-hm hmm hm~Mh-hm hmm hm~' Tippity-tap, tippity-tap. One-two, one-two. It got louder and louder, like it had done before, and the man's heart began to race. It pounded in his chest viciously. Blood thumped through his neck and forced him sliding down the walls until he hit the ground.

'calm... calm... Ca..'

The tapping stopped, along with the humming, when it sounded like the culprit was just around the corner. The man held his breath and turned his head slowly. He gasped for air when there was nothing there, and sank into the wall. These hallucinations had been going on for hours now. Stress like this couldn't be good for his health.

'calm...ca..c-c-k-_ka^-kssh_-kshhhh!'

His heart almost stopped when he hear metal dragging against the wall. It sounded like it was only a few inches away from his left ear. His head snapped towards the sound even though his veins felt like they were filled with lead. There was a blade slowly dragging against the stone, leaving behind a clear mark as it cut an inch-deep into the wall.

"Come now, are we out of breath already?"

The blade stopped inches away from his cheek. His body began to pulsate as he tried to muster the energy to pick himself up off the ground. But as soon as he scrambled to his feet, something rammed against the side of his rib-cage and sent him crashing back into the dampened dirt below.

"A bore! You're become a bore!"

That voice was familiar. He recognized it immediately. It was a man's voice. The same voice that hummed to the tapping. The tapping that had been following him around all night. The man pushed himself to face whoever forced him into the ground, but a jolt of pain coursed through his arm before he could make any moves. He felt the arm go numb as blood welled from his shoulder blade. He'd just been stabbed.

"Silly Nilliums, nillies, nice little nuanced nincompoops! Nilliums? Nillie Nilliums, was it? You all smells exactly the same, pardon me for my nose does not discriminate between the bold or the cowardly mice that linger in these filthy gutters, but perhaps that sweet, succulent smell has bewildered me in the past! Look here, look!" A shadow, barely visible, forced its blade deeper into the bumb's shoulder, and turned him over while cutting through more flesh. A grown of pain rang through the tunnel like a blaring Venbu. "Hello! Hello, little one! Hi!" The man on the ground looked up at his assailant. A few beams of stray moonlight bounced off the shimmering pools of the tunnel to just barely light up the face of his ruthless attacker. "Yes, yes, hi!"

His skin was pale like wax paper, and his eyes had the faintest ruby glow to their silhouettes. What stood out the most though, was his overbearing smile.

"Did you like my song, little one? An ode to the indulgence of this petty world! An ode long lost to time, I'm afraid, time consumes anything worth putting in a museum, a sad thought, so I cannot guarantee you'll recognize the name!" His smile widened. "The Sky Falls, and With it, Our Dreams. A famous poem of its era, I'm sure."

"P-p-puh-ple-"

"Puh-puh-pish posh! A man that stutters cannot expect to be acknowledged as anything more than a drunken fool!" The sword started to cut around the circumference of the drunk's shoulder as its wielder put pressure on the handle, squeezing out a few more painful groans. "What a wretched thing you are. We've just only met, and yet, you lay breathing bated breaths so beautifully! You haven't even asked my name yet, you scoundrel!"

From the end of the tunnel, several voices called out.

"Down here! I think he's hurt! Get him!"

The pale-faced figure turned towards the approaching voices slowly, dragging his blade through his victims chest as if he was no longer present. The drunken man shouted and hollered incomprehensible phrases as his lungs were sliced in half. Blood began to pool in his throat, reducing his pitiful groans to a series of guttural gurgles. Before long, the assailant was standing face to face with three men, all of whom were wielding blades, and a few mana-lit lanterns. They stopped in the tunnel and stared at the pale figure quietly. This wasn't Ayer at all. It smiled at them and casually flicked the blood from its weapon.

"Hello!"

Baeshri Pass, Caravan Centaurus
_{3rd of Summer - 10:26 PM}

Flin couldn't make out the writing on the note. There were a few lines of Myti-script with a few words, or phrases, crossed out with black ink. Zay began to peer towards the Myti's lower back, but spun towards the Caravan's front door as soon as the tapping started. Neal and Noru reacted in a similar fashion, completely forgetting about the two females on the floor of their cavern for a second. The medic didn't let his attention get stolen for long, though. Neal looked at Zay, who peered to him as well, before looking to the door.

"Open it," He said quietly. Neal, after a short delay, walked past Daelin and unlocked the door. Zay stood up and positioned himself against the wall, trying his best to conjure something small and sharp in his right hand.