TokyoPewPew

Regalia

Think Rome and Carthage. Basically, who's maybe interested in having been reared in a culture which absolutely despises Cetrites and the church of Ultima for the way they've historically treated classes of people they perceive as blasphemous, obscene, degenerate, etc.?

Tripping You Up Since 3U

Welcome back Cleveraptor! 🥰

Regalia

@Aeolian Figured fellow Regaliae could have some kind of resistance to certain (or maybe all?) Regalia powers cast on them, resulting in either outright immunity, or maybe the aging effect being temporary at worst and basically treated like a debuff, yeahhh

Regalia

Thinking either Bahamut's "nothingness" domain or Odin's "desolation." I wanna take a superpower culturally perceived as belonging to "good guys" (in my case, healing magic) and have it operate in a mechanically brutal way with a great capacity for cruelty. (I'm basically envisioning a form of time magic, where the subject's physiological and temporal processes can be accelerated or otherwise fucked with so that they are reverted to an unharmed state..... either before they ever got injured at all or long after they've already healed, all in the blink of an eye. Kind of a darker, grittier Crazy Diamond.) Of course, this being basically some kind of "entropy power," she could also rust locked doors off their hinges, hide bodies by withering them to dust (ie. supernaturally advancing their decomposition), etc.

Dunno how "fair" or balanced the powers are gonna have to be in this game so I'm just throwing the concept out there for your quick approval before sinking real time into this ✌️

Either way, very, very cool thread, to which I wish only the best!

Shadowstrike: The Awakening

@BloodySweet POST, MOTHERFUCKER

Shadowstrike: The Awakening

Listen up, @BloodySweet,

This is getting ridiculous. The patience of this community, once abundant, is wearing thin. We’ve been waiting for your response in our cyberpunk roleplay, and frankly, your silence is not just disappointing—it’s infuriating.

Every day—nay, minute—that ticks by, our story stagnates. Characters are left hanging, plotlines withering like forgotten relics in a dusty corner of this neon-drenched world we’ve built together. It’s as if you’ve decided to throw a wrench into our carefully crafted machinery, and trust me, it’s not just an inconvenience—it’s a betrayal.

Do you understand the stakes here? We’ve invested our time, our creativity, and our enthusiasm into this narrative. You’re not just another participant; you’re a key player, and right now, you’re acting like you’ve forgotten your role entirely. This isn’t just a casual game we’re playing; it’s a living, breathing saga that demands your attention.

I can’t help but feel that your absence is a signal of disregard for the hard work everyone else has put in. We’ve built a world filled with tension, conflict, and excitement, and your lack of engagement is dragging it down into the depths of mediocrity. Are you really going to let this slip through your fingers? Because if you don’t step up soon, you risk losing everything we’ve worked for.

So here’s the deal: I urge you, no, I demand that you shake off whatever has you stalled and get back to us. Your characters are teetering on the edge, and if you continue to leave them hanging, they might just tumble into oblivion. This isn’t just about you anymore; it’s about everyone who has committed themselves to this experience. We’re tired of waiting. We’re tired of watching our enthusiasm drain away.

Get it together and reply. Now. Because the longer you leave us in the dark, the more likely it is that we’ll have to reconsider our next steps.

The clock is ticking, BloodySweet.

With growing frustration,
A Fellow Player in This Cybernetic Chaos

Shadowstrike: The Awakening

Dear Esteemed Members of This Digital Sanctuary,

As I find myself ensconced within the electric glow of our collective imagination, I am compelled—nay, driven—to address a matter of utmost importance that looms over us like a storm cloud heavy with the weight of unresolved narratives and suspended plotlines. It is with a heart both heavy and fervent that I direct my gaze toward a singular entity among us, a figure both enigmatic and essential: the illustrious @BloodySweet.

In this sprawling cybernetic tapestry we weave, where chrome and grit dance in a perpetual twilight, the absence of your voice echoes ominously through the neon-lit streets. Like a rogue signal lost amidst the cacophony of cyberspace, your silence resonates with a disquieting timbre, stirring an urgency that cannot be ignored. As we gather in the shadowy alleys of this roleplay, our characters teeter on the precipice of fate, and the collective breath of our community hangs in the balance, suspended like a glitch in the system.

Allow me to elucidate, dear BloodySweet, the grave consequences of your protracted silence. The world we inhabit—a dystopian realm rife with intrigue, betrayal, and the palpable tension of looming conflict—awaits your return with bated breath. The denizens of our narrative universe, those vibrant avatars we have meticulously crafted, are poised at the cusp of action, their destinies intertwined with your next move. Your absence is not merely a footnote in our saga; it is a gaping void that threatens to unravel the very fabric of our shared reality.
Consider, if you will, the tapestry of characters we have spun together: each one a reflection of the complex and multifaceted nature of existence within our cyberpunk domain. They are not mere pixels on a screen; they are echoes of our thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. They demand attention, and they cry out for resolution, lest they fade into the obscurity of forgotten lore. Every moment you delay is a heartbeat lost in the relentless march of time—a time that is unforgiving and unyielding, much like the cold steel of the urban sprawl that surrounds us.

And so, I implore you, BloodySweet: cast aside any distractions that may have ensnared you in their grasp. Rise from the shadows of inertia and re-engage with us. Reignite the spark that once illuminated our dialogues and propelled our story forward. The pixels await your deft touch, and the characters yearn for the richness of your narrative input. With every tick of the clock, the tension escalates; the stakes rise, and the shadows deepen.

Should you continue to linger in this liminal space of silence, know that there are forces at play—unseen yet palpably present—who grow restless, their patience waning like the dying glow of a malfunctioning neon sign. We are a community united by the pulse of creativity, but even the most vibrant ecosystems can wither under neglect. The prospect of a narrative collapse looms like a specter, haunting the peripheries of our engagement. I would hate for our vibrant saga to descend into the chaos of unresolved plots, a fate akin to a shattered mirror reflecting fragmented dreams.

Therefore, I beseech you, BloodySweet, to traverse the digital expanse and respond to our fervent calls. Let your words flow like the electric currents that surge through the city’s veins. Breathe life into our shared creation once more, for it is only together that we can navigate the labyrinthine complexities of our intertwined destinies.
In closing, let this not be a mere message, but a rallying cry—an urgent summons to action. Our collective narrative hangs by a thread, shimmering in the ever-encroaching darkness. Your response, dear BloodySweet, is the spark that will reignite the flame of our roleplay. Answer the call; the city awaits.

With the utmost urgency and unwavering anticipation,

A Fellow Traveler in the Neon Abyss

Shadowstrike: The Awakening

@BloodySweet lookign foreword to you're next post :)

Shadowstrike: The Awakening

fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI fuck AI

please post your character before posting :D thank you very much

@BloodySweet

oh fug sowwy i forgodded xDD

Name: Jaxon "Jax" Steele

Age: 32

Occupation: Data Smuggler

Appearance:

Height: 6'1"
Build: Lean but muscular; agile and fit from a life on the run.
Hair: Short, tousled dark brown hair, often unkempt.
Eyes: Piercing gray, with a hint of weariness and sharp intelligence.

Attire:

Wears a tattered leather jacket with reinforced padding.
Dark cargo pants with multiple pockets for gadgets and data chips.
Scuffed combat boots, practical for urban terrain.
A hooded scarf that can cover his face in a pinch.

Personality:

Cynical yet resourceful; trusts few but values loyalty.
Quick-witted and sarcastic, often using humor to deflect from darker thoughts.
Deeply empathetic, but struggles to show it; has a soft spot for the underdog.

Early Life:

Grew up in the slums of the megacity, raised by a single mother who worked multiple jobs.
Witnessed crime and corruption from a young age, leading to a distrust of authority.
Often spent time in tech shops, learning about electronics and hacking from local legends.

Education:

Self-taught in programming and hacking; learned from old manuals and the underground community.
Briefly attended a local tech school but dropped out after a violent incident.

Skills:

Expert in data encryption and decryption; adept at hacking security systems.
Proficient in parkour, allowing for quick escapes through the city's vertical landscape.
Skilled negotiator and streetwise; knows how to navigate the underground economy.

Biography: Jaxon Steele grew up in the shadows of towering skyscrapers and flickering neon lights, where survival meant staying one step ahead of the oppressive corporate regime. After losing his mother to a corporate labor accident that was quickly swept under the rug, he vowed to fight back against the system that disregarded human life.
Turning to a life of data smuggling, Jax became a key player in the underground resistance, using his skills to expose corruption and provide crucial information to those willing to fight against the oppressive regime. Haunted by his past, he walks a fine line between rebellion and survival, seeking justice while navigating the treacherous alliances and betrayals of the megacity's underbelly.

Shadowstrike: The Awakening

The night was heavy with rain, the kind that washed the grime off the streets but left everything else feeling just a little more suffocated. Jax crouched behind a dumpster, peering out at the armored car idling under a flickering streetlight, its heavy metal frame glistening with raindrops. The glow of the city’s neon signs cast eerie shadows, but the flickering was a comfort—nothing in this city ever stayed still for long.

With a quick check of his gear, Jax adjusted the hood of his jacket, drawing it low over his face. Tonight wasn’t about heroics; it was about survival. He had a job to do, and the stakes were higher than ever. The city’s ATM machines were ripe for the picking, and if he could slip those credit-stealing devices onto just a few, he’d have enough data to sell for a decent payout—or perhaps a ticket out of this hellhole.

Timing was everything. He waited as the guards chatted, oblivious to the rain-soaked shadows lurking nearby. He could hear the distant wail of sirens—a reminder that in this line of work, you always had to be quick.

When the guards turned their backs for a moment, Jax seized his chance. He sprinted across the slick pavement, heart pounding, his combat boots barely making a sound. He reached the side of the armored car, feeling the cold metal under his fingers. It was locked tight, but he had come prepared.

With a flick of his wrist, he activated his modified data pad, connecting to the car’s security system. A few rapid taps, a surge of adrenaline, and the lock clicked open. He slipped inside, the interior dimly lit by a single overhead light.

The smell of stale coffee and metal filled his lungs as he moved swiftly, grabbing the equipment he needed—a set of credit-stealing devices carefully concealed within a small bag. He could almost hear the hum of the city outside, a constant reminder that he was living on borrowed time.

As he worked, Jax thought about the lives he’d touch with the data he was about to harvest. For every desperate soul at the ATM, he was pulling strings, enabling small acts of rebellion against a corrupt system. But first, he had to finish the job.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed outside. Jax’s pulse quickened. He had maybe thirty seconds. He secured the last device, then slipped out of the armored car, melting back into the shadows just as a guard turned to check on the vehicle.

“Let’s move,” he muttered to himself, adrenaline surging as he navigated the wet alleys, every shadow an ally, every drop of rain a whisper of freedom. Tonight was just the beginning.

Hello! You seem to have found my secret message! Yeah, this is just to let any future or current RP partners know that no, I do not use, or endorse using, AI to write posts. This is a beautiful hobby we share and tbh I think it's pretty insulting to want to be here if you think so little of your own writing (and of the people who do write everything from scratch) that you'll let some soulless heuristic algorithm do it for you. I know the process can sometimes be irritating, tedious, sometimes even painful, but isn't that what makes it all the sweeter when a post finally coalesces?

Anyway, all of this to say fuck BloodySweet, fuck ChatGPT, and fuck anyone who engages in this chicanery bullshit. Okay peace