briarton university
- Thread starter Viscera
- Start date
- Invitation Status
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Sci-Fi, Modern, Yaoi
Located in the affluent suburbs of Boston, where all the graces of society shine brilliantly upon the surfaces of pearls and diamonds glimmering from around the necks of trophy wives, the prestigious university known as Briarton lies in the quiet, expansive countryside, kept locked away from the public eye behind intricate, iron-wrought gates. Since its founding in 1736, Briarton has risen to the top of the rankings with the aid of its brilliant students and the generous of their even wealthier parents eager to see their progeny succeed. A private school with access to only the cream of the crop, the desire to enroll was merely unrealistic fantasy for those who fell outside of the circles occupied by the truly powerful or the exceptionally gifted. During its golden age, an era of unrivaled glory, Briarton reigned supreme as one of the top academic institutions for undergraduates. Hopefuls poured through the gates from near and far, hailing from every corner of the earth, with the desire to walk through its halls as one of them. But with the bars set almost impossibly high, dreams are smashed to dust with each rejection letter. The slim few who made it through the first circle of hell wore the school's crest upon their lapel with pride, for it was because of this school would the stepping stones to greatness be laid before them.
Briarton's reputation has declined since then, no longer heralded as the zenith of modern education but as a glorified playground for rich rascals with far too much money and time on their hands, the spawn of emotionally unavailable oligarchs far to involved with the affairs of their job to spare their offspring the basic necessities required to rear respectful and empathetic children. The once-pristine name of Briarton has been tarnished, as world-renowned professors cower at the feet of reckless hellions and their bank accounts, as administrators turn a blind eye to the illegal activities of the gilded youth, as parents send their troubled kids there as a way to simply not have to deal with them-- as the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind, and for many, it seemed that several students faced similar situations at home. The neglect they received from families only turned them down an increasingly destructive path, one where all of the world's vices became confidantes and constant companions, where money filled the ever-growing voids in their hearts. Wild parties and tumultuous romances lead to relationships gone haywire, soured by a cocktail of manipulation and power games. Lives are crushed and then left to collect the pieces, hastily strung back together with drugs and alcohol smuggled in at the request of those looking to grow lost for a few more hours in their potent effects. Bodies intertwine at night under tangled bedsheets in order to distract from the demons that consume and whisper tales of a perfect afterlife hidden in the barrel of a gun.
Behind it all sit Briarton's royalty upon their petty thrones, a perfect smile curved upon their pretty faces. Beautiful people who dabble in ugly things, they destroy and take as they please, and all of Briarton merely bows in response. They are the illustrious elite, sovereign deities who exist only to indulge in hedonistic pleasures and to ruin all who oppose them. Life is merely a game when one has nothing to lose, because nothing can be taken from these untouchable beings. Beneath them grovel the peasants; typical, unsuspecting students who haven't made it yet in order to be accepted into their ranks. They live in the shadows and in fear of these overlords, who use them like toys, only to discard them once they've grown bored and move on to find a shinier plaything. If life is but a game for the elite, then life is all about survival for the normal. They've learned three things that surpass any sort of textbook lesson or theorem in terms of importance; keep one's head down and leave the limelight left to those at the top, then brace for impact when it all comes crashing down.
For many years, Briarton has seen generation after generation graduate under this same hierarchical model, which has continued to rule over the general student populace, the unfortunates with one flaw to many to be admitted into the ranks of Briarton royalty. Despite the widespread detestation for the tyrants that play puppet master, there lies still, inexplicably, the desire for their stamp of approval, to be accepted as one of their own. They hang upon every word glibly spoken and spring upon the chance to entertain as if it were a divine purpose ordained upon them, until the party is over and their illustrious backs are turned, and the resentment resumes itself once more. But this time, students notice something inexplicably different as they pour through the double doors for the start of a new year; an electric tension in the air promises the arrival of a storm upon the horizon as the lives of the ordinary and naive are dragged like feed for lions into the arena of the gods. Fate has woven these threads into their story, and it is only fate that can tell what will become of them in the end.
Briarton's reputation has declined since then, no longer heralded as the zenith of modern education but as a glorified playground for rich rascals with far too much money and time on their hands, the spawn of emotionally unavailable oligarchs far to involved with the affairs of their job to spare their offspring the basic necessities required to rear respectful and empathetic children. The once-pristine name of Briarton has been tarnished, as world-renowned professors cower at the feet of reckless hellions and their bank accounts, as administrators turn a blind eye to the illegal activities of the gilded youth, as parents send their troubled kids there as a way to simply not have to deal with them-- as the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind, and for many, it seemed that several students faced similar situations at home. The neglect they received from families only turned them down an increasingly destructive path, one where all of the world's vices became confidantes and constant companions, where money filled the ever-growing voids in their hearts. Wild parties and tumultuous romances lead to relationships gone haywire, soured by a cocktail of manipulation and power games. Lives are crushed and then left to collect the pieces, hastily strung back together with drugs and alcohol smuggled in at the request of those looking to grow lost for a few more hours in their potent effects. Bodies intertwine at night under tangled bedsheets in order to distract from the demons that consume and whisper tales of a perfect afterlife hidden in the barrel of a gun.
Behind it all sit Briarton's royalty upon their petty thrones, a perfect smile curved upon their pretty faces. Beautiful people who dabble in ugly things, they destroy and take as they please, and all of Briarton merely bows in response. They are the illustrious elite, sovereign deities who exist only to indulge in hedonistic pleasures and to ruin all who oppose them. Life is merely a game when one has nothing to lose, because nothing can be taken from these untouchable beings. Beneath them grovel the peasants; typical, unsuspecting students who haven't made it yet in order to be accepted into their ranks. They live in the shadows and in fear of these overlords, who use them like toys, only to discard them once they've grown bored and move on to find a shinier plaything. If life is but a game for the elite, then life is all about survival for the normal. They've learned three things that surpass any sort of textbook lesson or theorem in terms of importance; keep one's head down and leave the limelight left to those at the top, then brace for impact when it all comes crashing down.
For many years, Briarton has seen generation after generation graduate under this same hierarchical model, which has continued to rule over the general student populace, the unfortunates with one flaw to many to be admitted into the ranks of Briarton royalty. Despite the widespread detestation for the tyrants that play puppet master, there lies still, inexplicably, the desire for their stamp of approval, to be accepted as one of their own. They hang upon every word glibly spoken and spring upon the chance to entertain as if it were a divine purpose ordained upon them, until the party is over and their illustrious backs are turned, and the resentment resumes itself once more. But this time, students notice something inexplicably different as they pour through the double doors for the start of a new year; an electric tension in the air promises the arrival of a storm upon the horizon as the lives of the ordinary and naive are dragged like feed for lions into the arena of the gods. Fate has woven these threads into their story, and it is only fate that can tell what will become of them in the end.
- Invitation Status
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Sci-Fi, Modern, Yaoi
SUx OOC x ICC x IC x
• WELCOME TO BRIARTON UNIVERSITY
Located in the affluent suburbs of Boston, where all the graces of society shine brilliantly upon the surfaces of pearls and diamonds glimmering from around the necks of trophy wives, the prestigious university known as Briarton lies in the quiet, expansive countryside, kept locked away from the public eye behind intricate, iron-wrought gates. Since its founding in 1736, Briarton has risen to the top of the rankings with the aid of its brilliant students and the generous of their even wealthier parents eager to see their progeny succeed. A private school with access to only the cream of the crop, the desire to enroll was merely unrealistic fantasy for those who fell outside of the circles occupied by the truly powerful or the exceptionally gifted. During its golden age, an era of unrivaled glory, Briarton reigned supreme as one of the top academic institutions for undergraduates. Hopefuls poured through the gates from near and far, hailing from every corner of the earth, with the desire to walk through its halls as one of them. But with the bars set almost impossibly high, dreams are smashed to dust with each rejection letter. The slim few who made it through the first circle of hell wore the school's crest upon their lapel with pride, for it was because of this school would the stepping stones to greatness be laid before them.
Briarton's reputation has declined since then, no longer heralded as the zenith of modern education but as a glorified playground for rich rascals with far too much money and time on their hands, the spawn of emotionally unavailable oligarchs far to involved with the affairs of their job to spare their offspring the basic necessities required to rear respectful and empathetic children. The once-pristine name of Briarton has been tarnished, as world-renowned professors cower at the feet of reckless hellions and their bank accounts, as administrators turn a blind eye to the illegal activities of the gilded youth, as parents send their troubled kids there as a way to simply not have to deal with them-- as the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind, and for many, it seemed that several students faced similar situations at home. The neglect they received from families only turned them down an increasingly destructive path, one where all of the world's vices became confidantes and constant companions, where money filled the ever-growing voids in their hearts. Wild parties and tumultuous romances lead to relationships gone haywire, soured by a cocktail of manipulation and power games. Lives are crushed and then left to collect the pieces, hastily strung back together with drugs and alcohol smuggled in at the request of those looking to grow lost for a few more hours in their potent effects. Bodies intertwine at night under tangled bedsheets in order to distract from the demons that consume and whisper tales of a perfect afterlife hidden in the barrel of a gun.
Behind it all sit Briarton's royalty upon their petty thrones, a perfect smile curved upon their pretty faces. Beautiful people who dabble in ugly things, they destroy and take as they please, and all of Briarton merely bows in response. They are the illustrious elite, sovereign deities who exist only to indulge in hedonistic pleasures and to ruin all who oppose them. Life is merely a game when one has nothing to lose, because nothing can be taken from these untouchable beings. Beneath them grovel the peasants; typical, unsuspecting students who haven't made it yet in order to be accepted into their ranks. They live in the shadows and in fear of these overlords, who use them like toys, only to discard them once they've grown bored and move on to find a shinier plaything. If life is but a game for the elite, then life is all about survival for the normal. They've learned three things that surpass any sort of textbook lesson or theorem in terms of importance; keep one's head down and leave the limelight left to those at the top, then brace for impact when it all comes crashing down.
For many years, Briarton has seen generation after generation graduate under this same hierarchical model, which has continued to rule over the general student populace, the unfortunates with one flaw to many to be admitted into the ranks of Briarton royalty. Despite the widespread detestation for the tyrants that play puppet master, there lies still, inexplicably, the desire for their stamp of approval, to be accepted as one of their own. They hang upon every word glibly spoken and spring upon the chance to entertain as if it were a divine purpose ordained upon them, until the party is over and their illustrious backs are turned, and the resentment resumes itself once more. But this time, students notice something inexplicably different as they pour through the double doors for the start of a new year; an electric tension in the air promises the arrival of a storm upon the horizon as the lives of the ordinary and naive are dragged like feed for lions into the arena of the gods. Fate has woven these threads into their story, and it is only fate that can tell what will become of them in the end.
Briarton's reputation has declined since then, no longer heralded as the zenith of modern education but as a glorified playground for rich rascals with far too much money and time on their hands, the spawn of emotionally unavailable oligarchs far to involved with the affairs of their job to spare their offspring the basic necessities required to rear respectful and empathetic children. The once-pristine name of Briarton has been tarnished, as world-renowned professors cower at the feet of reckless hellions and their bank accounts, as administrators turn a blind eye to the illegal activities of the gilded youth, as parents send their troubled kids there as a way to simply not have to deal with them-- as the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind, and for many, it seemed that several students faced similar situations at home. The neglect they received from families only turned them down an increasingly destructive path, one where all of the world's vices became confidantes and constant companions, where money filled the ever-growing voids in their hearts. Wild parties and tumultuous romances lead to relationships gone haywire, soured by a cocktail of manipulation and power games. Lives are crushed and then left to collect the pieces, hastily strung back together with drugs and alcohol smuggled in at the request of those looking to grow lost for a few more hours in their potent effects. Bodies intertwine at night under tangled bedsheets in order to distract from the demons that consume and whisper tales of a perfect afterlife hidden in the barrel of a gun.
Behind it all sit Briarton's royalty upon their petty thrones, a perfect smile curved upon their pretty faces. Beautiful people who dabble in ugly things, they destroy and take as they please, and all of Briarton merely bows in response. They are the illustrious elite, sovereign deities who exist only to indulge in hedonistic pleasures and to ruin all who oppose them. Life is merely a game when one has nothing to lose, because nothing can be taken from these untouchable beings. Beneath them grovel the peasants; typical, unsuspecting students who haven't made it yet in order to be accepted into their ranks. They live in the shadows and in fear of these overlords, who use them like toys, only to discard them once they've grown bored and move on to find a shinier plaything. If life is but a game for the elite, then life is all about survival for the normal. They've learned three things that surpass any sort of textbook lesson or theorem in terms of importance; keep one's head down and leave the limelight left to those at the top, then brace for impact when it all comes crashing down.
For many years, Briarton has seen generation after generation graduate under this same hierarchical model, which has continued to rule over the general student populace, the unfortunates with one flaw to many to be admitted into the ranks of Briarton royalty. Despite the widespread detestation for the tyrants that play puppet master, there lies still, inexplicably, the desire for their stamp of approval, to be accepted as one of their own. They hang upon every word glibly spoken and spring upon the chance to entertain as if it were a divine purpose ordained upon them, until the party is over and their illustrious backs are turned, and the resentment resumes itself once more. But this time, students notice something inexplicably different as they pour through the double doors for the start of a new year; an electric tension in the air promises the arrival of a storm upon the horizon as the lives of the ordinary and naive are dragged like feed for lions into the arena of the gods. Fate has woven these threads into their story, and it is only fate that can tell what will become of them in the end.
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