No people cuss at me and stuff. Not on this site, ROBLOX and all those other sites, one time I was roleplaying on Twitch and I thought my friend was roleplaying with me, HE CUSSED ME OUT.
This is the internet, friend. "Cussing out" is actually relatively light, to what some people on here are capable of.
In fact, it's pretty much not even notable, compared to what some people on here are capable of.
I don't think running is the answer though; that is an admission of defeat. Whoever advocates backing down, probably hasn't grasped the concept of human nature.
I find humoring people like that is the best way... show them that their words really are just digital text on a digital page.
"HEY TIMETORP YOU FUCKING G*Y MOTHER FUCKING N****R F*****T GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY RP!!!!! >:("
"Wow buddy, is this because I fucked your mum?"
"FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING C**T NO ONE FUCKING LIKES YOU WHY DONT YOU LEAVE"
"I could, but I'd rather join your CAPS PARTY, EVERYBODY NOW, CAPS, CAPS, CAPS, CAPS, CAPPING ALIVE, CAPPING ALIVE, CAPS, CAPS..."
So on, so forth. Don't run. Don't encourage and entrench their behavior. Just stand firm, but not in a confrontational way. Be indifferent, understand that you have the same protection as they pretty much: you're both behind a screen, probably miles away from each other, and everything is inconsequential. Just don't start using racist terms in some kind of counter attack, or you'll lose street cred // invite community-wide condemnation. I've seen that happen a few times. Best to keep the language moderate, and just shoot them with fluff.
Try not to apply offline socializing practices to those online, it doesn't work.
You need any more pointers, come find me, I'm usually bumbling around here once a day.
Everyone who has submitted a character sheet is accepted, and I have no plans of closing applications so you can still submit a tribe. I myself will be making a tribe soon.
For those accepted, I will open up posting in the IC. Have fun!
I'd like to join but I just want to see if a couple of more users would be interested too.
I've always wanted to play DayZ and I should've when it was still free to play but I guess since it got so popular, it changed. I love watching it on YouTube though! It never gets old for me.
I used to play it loads, but it got too infuriating at the end. You'd spend hours getting loads of gear, see absolutely no one the entire time, then the moment you let your guard down BAM some muppet in a ghillie suit snipes you with a DMR from half a mile away.
It was a nice idea, and I think it remains the popular go to survival game, however for me it just lacked heavily in the "end game" department. After you'd gotten an abundance of food and weapons, there was really no more to see, unless you wanted to camp noobs as they spawned... but fuck that.
This RP will be a little different though, as the infected wont simply sit around in villages. They'll be on the move and rapidly spreading :D
Anyways, thanks for your interest. I've added a few items, such as an interactive map of Chernarus, a list of Arma 2 units to give people some ideas of what they might want to be, and the wiki page on the RAGE virus, used in 28 Days Later. I don't believe in running zombies, so RAGE seemed like the next best thing :)
We'll see if anyone else joins, but here's to hoping.
Neanderthal anatomy differed from modern humans in that they had a more robust build and distinctive morphological features, especially on the cranium, which gradually accumulated more derived aspects as it was described by Marcellin Boule, particularly in certain isolated geographic regions. These include shorter limb proportions, a wider, barrel-shaped rib cage, a reduced chin and, perhaps most notably, a large nose, which was much larger in both length and width, and started somewhat higher on the face, than in modern humans. Evidence suggests they were much stronger than modern humans, with particularly strong arms and hands, while they were comparable in height; based on 45 long bones from at most 14 males and 7 females, Neanderthal males averaged 164–168 cm (65–66 in) and females 152–156 cm (60–61 in) tall. Samples of 26 specimens in 2010 found an average weight of 77.6 kg (171 lb) for males and 66.4 kg (146 lb) for females. A 2007 genetic study suggested some Neanderthals may have had red hair and blond hair, along with a light skin tone.
A 2013 study of Neanderthal skulls suggests that their eyesight may have been better than that of modern humans, owing to larger eye sockets and larger areas of the brain devoted to vision. Neanderthals are known for their large cranial capacity, which at 1600 cm3 is larger on average than that of modern humans. One study has found that Neanderthal brains were more asymmetric than other hominid brains. In 2008, a group of scientists produced a study using three-dimensional computer-assisted reconstructions of Neanderthal infants based on fossils found in Russia and Syria. It indicated that Neanderthal and modern human brains were the same size at birth, but that by adulthood, the Neanderthal brain was larger than the modern human brain.
Tribe Name: First Men
Demonym: Neanderthals
Population: 700
Government Style: Anarchy - There is no central form of government (at the start of the RP, in any case), and authority stems from the heads of the scores of wandering familial groups of Neanderthals. However, these groups do tend to cooperate with each other, but any fall out is usually resolved through violent means on a local level.
Religious Beliefs: The Neanderthals are simple folk, with simple beliefs. Much of the world scares them, and they stray far from any attempts to really understand it. Instead, they look upon things like the Sun, the breeze, the stars, the moon, the ground, as something akin to Gods. They have no real traditional methods of worship, but they give all things respect, lest they tempt the wrath of whatever terrifying creator lies beyond their foundation.
Location on the Map: Start as scattered villages and hunter posts across the breadth of the island, but will later go on to form a territory.
History before the Collapse: The Neanderthals of The Exile are the last of a dying breed; the First Men.
They walked the globe for half a million years, hunting and gathering their way through their short lives, and never remaining in one place long enough to create a true civilisation. Their culture remained almost the same, regardless of how far a tribe was from another, or where it was located. This lack of imagination, was perhaps their greatest downfall.
As the Second Men came into being, the Neanderthals found themselves fighting a ten thousand year long war of survival against an enemy that knew only how to dominate all that it saw. Whilst humans were diverse in not only appearance, but in their methods, the Neanderthals were broadly stagnated. They failed to develop weapons strong enough to keep pace with their ever advancing cousins, and as the centuries passed, they were slowly driven from the major landmasses.
That as until Zoog, the Last Elder, led his people across the great waters on a fleet of ships built from mud. The journey was perilous, and of the thousands that set sail, only a few dozen survived the voyage. They arrived at what is now known as The Exile, but to them as Neanderthalis.
Here they lived for centuries more in relative peace. Their simple lives of hunting and gathering restored.
Until now...
Survival Legend: Zoog, the Last Elder, was the Neanderthals' only ever known war chief. It was he who rallied his dying peoples, forced them to remain in one place, and spearheaded a rapid technological development to challenge the already victorious tides of humanity.
Under his leadership, the Neanderthals made war on Humans. They sacked and pillaged several cities, destroyed a dozen armies, but were abruptly beaten and crushed during an especially fierce winter campaign. His forces broken, Zoog led the last of his kin on an epic retreat known as The Long Walk, where tens of thousands of Neanderthals made a hurried march to the nearest coast line.
Once at their destination, Zoog led them in a tenacious defence against pursuing bands of human warriors. Meanwhile, his most trusted and brightest set about building hundreds upon hundreds of ships, made from wood and mud. These seafearing contraptions were adequate for shallow streams and rivers, but no match for a sea.
Nearly all of Zoog's followers died on their seaborne journey, before reaching Neanderthalis (The Exile). With just a few dozen of their kin left, in the entire world, Zoog is said to have taken his own life out of guilt, by walking into the sea and not returning. His followers, confused and heartbroken, erected a giant stone slap on Neanderthalis' eastern shore, as a permanent tribute to their once mighty leader.
Far removed from mankind, the Neanderthals went about re-establishing their way of life, and have maintained it to the present day.
History Since: The Neanderthals have blossomed on the island, although not in the same way as a human might measure "blossomed". Their population has remained relatively stagnant, and they boast no real settlements to speak of. Instead, they travel the island hunting game and gathering herbs; enough to feed themselves, but not enough to trade.
A few individuals arise to the challenge of becoming the next Elder from time to time, but they are always ultimately defeated by a union of groups who detest the idea of having a singular leader.
Other: Not sure yet; still deciding how to play this out, if I do get accepted. A smattering of minor characters, or a singular protagonist on a quest to unite his peoples.
Personally, the Neanderthal idea is really cool, but I dont think its much of a tribe, more of just a race that exists on the island. Because they dont live in a territory, or have any leadership, it'd be pretty hard to roleplay it nation wise. Just my two cents.
I've stated as much. They begin as totally nomadic, but will go on to form a "tribe" out of necessity once the humans start taking their resources and threatening their survival once again. Their history mentions Zoog, the Last Elder, a Neanderthal who took charge of their dying race and went to war with it. It mentions him as their only known war chief, to get the idea across that they're not warlike or industrious by nature.
But thanks anyway, you're totally right in what you've said. I'll have to be creative when it comes to unifying them, but I think it's perfectly possible if we give me a little leeway.
Hey, I've been lurking on this thread for a while, waiting for the real thing to start.
I'm interested in playing as Neanderthals, a primitive human ancestor to those who may be unsure, and perhaps the last of their kind? Maybe the native inhabitants of The Exile, who have withstood being culled by their more advanced cousins purely through their isolation? All of which, is about to change of course.
Alternatively, they could have just been one of oppressed tribes of Ascahara that had managed to survive through bloody minded subservience.
In any case, here's a work in progress. I can change anything, and it's not a final version, but it's just to give you an idea.
Oh, and there's no hard feelings if you say no, and tell me to scram before you boot me out with your size 13s. I'm just wanting to take the whole primitive man idea to the next level, that's all :)
Thanks for hearing me out, in advance, and I'll respect your decision either which way.
Tribe Name: First Men
Demonym: Neanderthals
Population: 700
Government Style: Anarchy - There is no central form of government (at the start of the RP, in any case), and authority stems from the heads of the scores of wandering familial groups of Neanderthals. However, these groups do tend to cooperate with each other, but any fall out is usually resolved through violent means on a local level.
Religious Beliefs: The Neanderthals are simple folk, with simple beliefs. Much of the world scares them, and they stray far from any attempts to really understand it. Instead, they look upon things like the Sun, the breeze, the stars, the moon, the ground, as something akin to Gods. They have no real traditional methods of worship, but they give all things respect, lest they tempt the wrath of whatever terrifying creator lies beyond their foundation.
Location on the Map: Start as scattered villages and hunter posts across the breadth of the island, but will later go on to form a territory. (Unless they arrived with the humans)
History before the Collapse: The Neanderthals of The Exile are the last of a dying breed; the First Men.
They walked the globe for half a million years, hunting and gathering their way through their short lives, and never remaining in one place long enough to create a true civilisation. Their culture remained almost the same, regardless of how far a tribe was from another, or where it was located. This lack of imagination, was perhaps their greatest downfall.
As the Second Men came into being, the Neanderthals found themselves fighting a ten thousand year long war of survival against an enemy that knew only how to dominate all that it saw. Whilst humans were diverse in not only appearance, but in their methods, the Neanderthals were broadly stagnated. They failed to develop weapons strong enough to keep pace with their ever advancing cousins, and as the centuries passed, they were slowly driven from the major landmasses.
That as until Zoog, the Last Elder, led his people across the great waters on a fleet of ships built from mud. The journey was perilous, and of the thousands that set sail, only a few dozen survived the voyage. They arrived at what is now known as The Exile, but to them as Neanderthalis.
Here they lived for centuries more in relative peace. Their simple lives of hunting and gathering restored.
Until now...
Survival Legend: Zoog, the Last Elder, was the Neanderthals' only ever known war chief. It was he who rallied his dying peoples, forced them to remain in one place, and spearheaded a rapid technological development to challenge the already victorious tides of humanity.
Under his leadership, the Neanderthals made war on Humans. They sacked and pillaged several cities, destroyed a dozen armies, but were abruptly beaten and crushed during an especially fierce winter campaign. His forces broken, Zoog led the last of his kin on an epic retreat known as The Long Walk, where tens of thousands of Neanderthals made a hurried march to the nearest coast line.
Once at their destination, Zoog led them in a tenacious defence against pursuing bands of human warriors. Meanwhile, his most trusted and brightest set about building hundreds upon hundreds of ships, made from wood and mud. These seafearing contraptions were adequate for shallow streams and rivers, but no match for a sea.
Nearly all of Zoog's followers died on their seaborne journey, before reaching Neanderthalis (The Exile). With just a few dozen of their kin left, in the entire world, Zoog is said to have taken his own life out of guilt, by walking into the sea and not returning. His followers, confused and heartbroken, erected a giant stone slap on Neanderthalis' eastern shore, as a permanent tribute to their once mighty leader.
Far removed from mankind, the Neanderthals went about re-establishing their way of life, and have maintained it to the present day.
History Since: The Neanderthals have blossomed on the island, although not in the same way as a human might measure "blossomed". Their population has remained relatively stagnant, and they boast no real settlements to speak of. Instead, they travel the island hunting game and gathering herbs; enough to feed themselves, but not enough to trade.
A few individuals arise to the challenge of becoming the next Elder from time to time, but they are always ultimately defeated by a union of groups who detest the idea of having a singular leader.
Other: Not sure yet; still deciding how to play this out, if I do get accepted. A smattering of minor characters, or a singular protagonist on a quest to unite his peoples.
I'm new to the guild, and have been lurking for a little while. Nothing has come up that particularly interests me though :/ so I looked at some of your RPs, and pieced together my own.
Feel free to hammer me, considering my first post here is an RP itself. I've not GM'd before, but if it's just a matter of resolving player-issues and providing story flow, I'm sure I'll do fine.
Alternatively, a more experienced player is more than welcome to take this and use it... just let me know so that I can join!
If it does/doesn't suck, a little feedback would be nice so that I know for next time :)
Thanks for being wonderful and polite in advance! :)
Yulian Stepanovich sipped at the fine porcelain mug, and did his best to savor the bitter sweet aroma of French coffee. He shifted uneasily in an uncomfortable garden chair, one of many set on the pavement outside of Nirov's Cafe. It was unusual weather for this time of year, but rain and cold was forecast for the rest of the week. The sun was high in the sky, even though the afternoon's fifth hour was fast approaching, and its warmth tore at Yulian's heavy thread blazer.
He dared not take it off, not yet. Though the time was nigh.
The aged Russian's eyes glanced over a lazily folded newspaper, set upon the table beside him. It wasn't his, but whoever left it there appeared to be inadvertently mocking him... although at the same time, they were inadvertently encouraging him, steeling his resolve.
The singular front page headline, half obscured, read, "Russia Remembers Red-"
Yulian's eyes narrowed, and he placed the porcelain mug onto the table with an audible knock. A few other patrons looked up from their distractions briefly, but their attention on him soon passed. The Russian, old and grey, lent back into his chair and pulled at his shirt colour. The heat was stifling, and sweat was running down his face.
He lifted his watch; an old Soviet-Army issue model. It was scratched and dented, but it still worked.
16:59.
Six years ago to the day, three generations of Yulian's family was snatched from him in the blink of an eye, in the flash of fire and shrapnel. His wife, his daughter, his son-in-law, his two grandchildren, Radmila and Violetta. Victims of some vague and irrelevant civil war. Their deaths were meaningless, the result senseless violence; a stupid political ploy to get Mr. Putin on board with Chernarus' communist rebels.
And now, this country was going to pay. The world, was going to pay. No more Russia, no more America, no more petty men with too much power, deciding the lives of innocents at a whim of their own delusional intentions.
No more world.
Professor Yulian Stepanovich, formely of Unit 291 operating our of Siberia since 1941, stood from his chair. A few children ran past him then, oblivious in their persuit of mindless fun. Their screams of joy and silly laughter distracted him from his mission, from his revenge, but only briefly.
Wrinkled hands fell to the buttons of his blazer, and undid them one by one. The jacket fell to the floor, revealing a tactical combat vest he'd worn back in '66. Strapped to it with duct tape, were several explosive devices, that were inturn overlapped with a layer of slim glass phials.
The phials contained a previously-thought destroyed virus, known as RAGE. It was a neurological agent, designed to heighten the anger of both man and animal to a point of blind, bloody minded murder. Victims cared only for passing on the contagion through contact of bodily fluids; they did not eat, they did not reproduce, they did not sleep and they did not stop until something stopped them.
By now, the other patrons had noticed him, and were edging away. He wasn't interested in them though; the cafe was especially busy, owing to the unusual summery weather. He turned, walked into the building to a chorus of screams, and then depressed the button on the detonator.
There were a series of thuds, and small scale explosions, and then the glass front of the building shattered into a thousand fragments. Dozens of shrapnel shards, coated in RAGE, pierced, decapitated and perforated everyone within the cafe, and also those immediately outside.
Yulian's severed head hit the floor, just as the first of his victims, bloody and torn, looked out at the city of Chernogorsk with delightful murder in their eyes.
Balota Airstrip,
Two miles from Chernogorsk.
18:21
Colonel Yan Urakov of the 1st CDF Motorized Battalion frowned at the reports streaming in from the Municipal Police Headquaters of Chernogorsk. Rioting had been reported on the streets, and the local police and National Militia were struggling to cope. Information was scarce, haphazard, contradictory and down right confusing, but all of it confirmed one thing: live ammunition had been authorized for use, but whatever was happening in the city, civil order had totally collapsed.
So much so, that Colonel Urakov had received orders from South Zagoria Military District to mobilize at once, and to put down what was being termed loosely as another Communist coup. He picked up the phone on his desk, and put in a call to his platoon commanders.
Balota Airstrip sprung to life with a series of sirens, bleating truck horns, rickety diesel engines and hurried shouts as the battle-tested 1st CDF Motorized Battalion hurried to their transports. Back in 2009, it would have taken an hour to get the unit moving, but that was then, and the CDF had come a long way.
As the column of CDF urals, each of them carrying a squad of infantry, approached the city, they came to a standstill. Chernogorsk was in flames, and an orchestra of intense but distant gun fire told the men and women of the 1st that whatever they were heading into one thing was for sure: their country was going to shit once again.
Back at the airstrip, Colonel Urakov reluctantly passed on the reports to the local U.S Army base, located on the island of Utes. He didn't expect them to help, even if the country had suddenly decided to plunge into another civil war, but the 2012 Chern-Am Cooperation Initiative demanded such things be shared. He sat back in his chair, lit a cigarette, and then headed towards the Operations Room.
The Americans, deciding to show support but without the firepower, dispatched a "peace keeping" contingent of marines to the city's harbor, under the pretense of evacuating American nationals from the beleaguered city. In truth, they'd picked up a few panicked transmissions from the Kremlin in Moscow through their diplomatic spying program, and were very curious as to what had Mr. Putin so riled up. These marines' orders were simply to secure the harbor, and to evacuate civilians fleeing the crisis. Tier One Operators in their midst were tasked with documenting the situation.
Meanwhile, Russian Spetsnaz appeared on Chernarus' northern border, infiltrating the nation as chaos reigned over its military. Their mission? Confirm the worst.
Confirm the end of the world.
The Story Arc
Things in Chernarus are about to hit the fan. Chernogorsk has almost fallen in less than two hours, unless the CDF and U.S forces can purge the city of the RAGE virus... although this is unlikely.
Civilians fleeing the city are also being chased by the infected, and in this way, they will lead them to other settlements. The country will fall in days, not weeks, and then the RAGE virus will be unstoppable.
This is the start of the apocalypse! And your character's goal is likely to change rapidly from putting down the infected, to escaping and surviving them.
Rules
Be nice to each other.
Don't act like your character is invincible.
If you love war, know all the facts and numbers, please don't intimidate peasants like myself.
If you're a serving member of the armed forces, please don't flatten peasants like myself with your huge balls.
Post at least once in 3 days; don't leave people hanging.
Character Sheet
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Nationality: Chernarussian, Russian, American.
Type: Military/Civilian.
Rank:
Unit: Either join the CDF column, or create your own Spetsnaz, USMC or other CDF unit... or join an existing unit made by a player.
