Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by assian, Jun 30, 2013.

  1. [​IMG]

    He's called the Destroyer. He was born in a laboratory by way of human ingenuity, constructed of metal and binary and synthetic DNA, but he was more than just an experiment. He was a weapon. He was death.

    In some ways, this god was limited. He could not, for example, speak, nor could he feel pain, regret, or any other emotion. But he could think--and that, perhaps, was the humans' greatest oversight. They gave him one command:​


    They wanted him to attack. They wanted him to fight. They wanted him to make the ground bleed. And he did, for a time. Wherever he walked, the dead fell behind him. The Destroyer consumed life, and he hungered for it--and each day, this hunger grew. Soon, the few hours of the day the humans allowed him to wreak his havoc and spin his chaos were not enough for him.​

    He broke out.​

    The beginning of the world's end happened June fourteenth, exactly fifty eight years ago. With his abilities to make even the plants wilt just by being in his presence, containment seemed simply impossible. The humans had done a fine job, indeed; they had created the greatest weapon they could ever hope for. Terrified, without options, and weary beyond comprehension, the humans allowed the Destroyer the land of their planet Gaia. He embraced them eagerly and greedily, consuming everything in his path. While her children cowered and fled, Gaia's surface was razed and broken.​

    Computers gave the humans an escape from their folly. They technology immersed them in a world that they could construct as their own. With technology that connected to their neurons and senses, humans could experience pain, sadness, happiness, euphoria, and otherwise live a life of their own choosing from one single seat. Maintained insulin pumps kept them alive enough to remain in their own fantasy worlds for as long as they liked. These supercomputers were located inside safe houses, buried deep in the dead earth or barricaded with high walls of steel and concrete.​

    You were born without knowing any of this history, however. From birth, you were hooked up to a computer and grown in a safely mediated environment. The stories of the world outside of the one you grew up with sounded only like a fantasy world grandparents would tell their children. After a while, you simply didn't believe in them, anymore. You forgot that you were sitting in an inclined, glorified dentistry seat, hooked up to millions of small wires prodding your skin. To you, the technological world was the reality. It was your entire universe. And you were happy. For a time.​

    Life was as perfect as a child's life could be.​

    And then you woke up.​

  2. Rules

    1. Please listen to me and Nosebleed [we're co-mods ~]
    2. We both appreciate very good grammar, spelling, mechanics, etc. Please do your best on your forms, therefore!
    3. Please post more than three sentences per post, and try to post once every two or three days, at least! We'd love for you to write more than a paragraph, though, but we understand if you're pressed for time.
    4. Proper roleplaying etiquette, of course ~ No OOC drama, no god-modding, etc.
    5. Both Nosebleed and I must agree to accept the form before a character becomes part of the roleplay.
    6. I think that's it, for now!
    #2 assian, Jun 30, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 1, 2013
  3. [​IMG]
    What woke you?

    In this world, anything[ is possible. The universe builds around you, your wishes, your imagination, and grows in reaction to those who occupy it. It's alive. And for every memory, every spark of inspiration everyone has, this plane of existence morphs into something beautiful. There was never anything else you might've asked for.​

    But lately you've been feeling uneasy. There's an itch in the back of your mind telling you that something's not right here. At first you dismiss it as staying up too late, that you probably shouldn't eat flamin' hot cheetos before bed ... but you can't shake this sensation, this feeling that this -- all of this -- is just off somehow. ​

    And it is with this sudden, jarring realization that you gasp, wake up, shudder and cough before tumbling off the operating chair and onto the cold tiled floor. Wires, cables, and insulin tubes tangle around you, and you hear equipment crash down with your fall. A crippling headache shudders through you, and for a moment all you can do is lie there in shock. ​

    Eventually you do make it to your feet, but your knees are weak and your head feels dizzy. Your stomach feels completely empty. What was going on? Just an hour ago you had a hearty dinner with your family. You couldn't be hungry, again.​

    Then you take everything in. ​

    You're standing in one of the most expansive halls you've ever been in, the ceiling vaulted far above your head and the space long and wide. Around you are multiple operating chairs where people are hooked up to different contraptions, different technologies. Wires and cables burst from the back of their heads, arms, legs ... everywhere. As you step closer, you try to identify them -- and stumble back in shock. You can recognize all of these people. They're your friends, your family, your coworkers and fellow students. Dear Lord. ​

    You stumble through the building, coming across more rooms, more halls filled with people, although you don't know these groups in particular. You have no idea what was happening, where you were, what you were doing ... you just want to go home. ​

    There are six others that are in a similar situation as you in this compound, and eventually you do run into each other in this huge maze. Together, you ascertain what you were afraid of assuming: your old world isn't real. The computers, the hooked up humans, and other pieces of evidence suggest that you were grown up like that: on a chair. How was it possible? Who knew. ​

    You will all agree eventually on trying to find a way to save your loved ones, and after extensive packing you venture outside into a complete wasteland. Everything is destroyed. And to make things worse, you're beginning to feel some strange symptoms ... ​

    Turns out, you and the six others have been gifted with seven different abilities. Perhaps you were chosen for a purpose? For a reason? Well, whatever happened, you're awake now. ​

    And he knows it. ​

    in translation (open)
    In this roleplay you will be playing as one of the seven that have woken from their "sleep" [or hibernation]. They will be attempting to defeat the destroyer, who is still at large and quickly eating up all living organisms left on earth. Should you defeat him, life will return to the world, and your families and friends will have a reason to want to wake up. Fail and ... well, you'll be sleeping for a long time, indeed.

    ** yes, these are premade characters. These are set roles! At this time, we are not looking for OCs. Sorry about that! **

    the prophet - open (open)

    Gifted in quick mathematics calculation, statistics, and probability, the Prophet is able to predict the most likely outcome in the near future, which changes almost every other minute (for every action, there is an equal reaction, right?). However, just because it's the most likely does not mean the future you see is the only outcome. You will be wrong--perhaps on the day it counts most. The Prophet will be plagued with migraines occasionally, and a distinct buzzing in the back of their minds. And where other people might twiddle their thumbs as a tick, the Prophet calculates figures.

    the scholar - open (open)

    Born with perfect memory and an overactive mind, the Scholar is inundated every day with new sensations and old sensations coming back to them. The Scholar remembers every day, every moment, every second of their life to the T. While dependable to remember masses of information, the Scholar is hard to communicate with because of the sheer amount of facts and memories that press against their minds. The Scholar is known to black out at random points in the day from straight out exhaustion and disconnected feelings and thoughts that occur to you every day.

    the silvertongue - open (open)

    The Silvertongue is naturally charismatic and an excellent speaker. The Silvertongue has the ability to move crowds with only a single speech. Their ability is to influence people [or any living thing with an actual brain] to do whatever the Silvertongue wishes. If you were to tell a mother to shoot her newborn child, she would, so be warned: by speaking out of turn without thinking or adequately controlling your power, you may very well kill everyone you love. Perhaps you shouldn't speak, after all, eh?

    the avenger - open (open)

    The Avenger is unassuming and quiet. However, don't let that fool you. The Avenger is ever present in the battlefield as the living embodiment of karma. All pain that is inflicted must always come back, and the Avenger is the one that administers these checks and balances. Be warned: while the Avenger's powers and strength is great, the Avenger's duty is not restricted to petty alliances and friendships. The Avenger can turn onto either or both sides in a war, no matter their own wishes. The Avenger also cannot strike or physically harm anyone themselves unless they are administering retaliation [their fist will literally stop midair against their wishes]. Being around the Martyr aggravates the Avenger's abilities almost tenfold.

    the warrior - taken by assian (open)

    The Warrior is not just gifted with enhanced strength, speed, agility, flexibility, and all around elegance in the battlefield that would make any professional dancer green with envy, but also with a strategic mind. Upon entering a battle, the Warrior will always generate some sort of battle plan, some sort of way to defeat the enemy quickly and effectively. In fact, the Warrior will probably think of multiple plans, from plan A to plan Z. Plan A, everyone survives. Plan Z, no one does [except the Savior, of course]. However, the Warrior is not born with the natural physique for fighting, and must dutifully train themselves.

    the martyr - open (open)

    Forever cursed to take the pain of others, the Martyr always feels the need to take the bullet for the other guy--literally. The Martyr has the inexplicable urge to sacrifice themselves, regardless of how much they may or may not want to at the time. The Martyr can feel pain of every living creature around them, and it overwhelms them. Their enhanced empathy agitates them beyond the help of the Martyr's comrades. The Martyr, however, cannot kill themselves [they've probably tried, already]. The Martyr has not died yet from sheer willpower, keeping themselves from jumping into fights when they can, but with the impending war, they're not sure how long they'll be able to hold it together.

    the savior - taken by nosebleed (open)

    The Savior has the thing everyone wants: pure immortality. They can be stabbed, shot, kicked, beheaded, buried alive, and the Savior will survive. The Savior will thrive. No matter how much you might maim them, no matter how far you put the head away from the body, the Savior will still bite. The Savior will howl. Take note: the Savior still ages and grows old. Beware, however: while the Savior cannot die, the Savior can still feel pain just as much as the next person, and they heal the same rate as other people as well.

    Make it however you like! Please include the following [although doesn't necessarily have to be in this order]:​
    • Name
    • Gender
    • Age [13 - 25]
    • Physical Description [you need at least some words on this, even if you have a picture]
    • Personality
    • Brief History. What was your place in the fantasy world?
    • The ability/slot you're applying for. Of course, if it says it's taken above, you cannot apply for it. Sorry!
    • Anything else you might deem important.
  4. Name: Alexandra "Alex" Morgansson​
    Gender: Female​
    Age: 20​
    Role: the Warrior​

    Desc: She's worked her physique into a more compact and quick-footed soldier than a buff, heavy lifter soldier. Alex is relatively slender and stands at around five feet and seven inches [or about 160 centimeters]. Her skin is a very nice light brown shade, and her dark hair has been cut short so that it just barely covers her eyebrows in the front and just manages to be tucked behind her ear at the sides. She says it's too keep it out of her face while she's fighting.​
    She doesn't really have that intimidating fighter time aura about her. Mostly, she just stands there and crosses her arms because she's frustrated at you. She has a particular grace about her, though, and a rather precise control about her body. That's probably because of her ability. ​

    Personality: Alex has a rather no-nonsense sort of way about her. She doesn't like dealing with satire or sarcasm or cynicism. She'd rather just get to the point and get things done. That's how she does things, and she'd prefer if everyone else did, too. Alex depends a lot on common sense and logic, and she gets frustrated when people don't use their heads and blow up situations more than they have to. Everything in the world has a certain place for her, and everything has a definitive purpose--or else, why would it exist? ​

    wip wip wip ;;​
  5. [​IMG]

    Legal name: Yolanda Greene Holst
    Called: Yolo,Yola, Ms. Holst.
    Age: 21
    Gender: Female
    Orientation: Hetero, Bi-curious.

    Yola is slightly overweight, just enough to add a bit more curve to her than is usual in her family. She has auburn hair with a slight wave to it, hardly enough to save it from stick-straightness. Her eyes are a rich chocolate brown, and frankly, too big for her face. Expressions flit across her face quickly – she's a horrible liar, and excellent at telling the truth and being believed. Her nose is straight, but a little too long to be cute, and a little too short to be elegant. She's lovely, but lovely in the same way a smooth rock is lovely. She's not cute, or pretty, or particularly attractive, but she is pleasant on the eyes. She tends to wear comfortable clothes, and ones that show off her curvy figure well, in rich wine, purple and deep green shades. Her hair is almost always loose over her shoulder and carefully tended in perfect shoulder length loose waves.

    Height: 5'9
    Weight: 149 lbs.

    Power: Prophet
    Yola has the talent of determining the most probably outcome of any situation. She can calculate anything with eerie speed and precision, sometimes subconsciously. Imagine eternally solving math puzzles in the back of your mind. This is her life, and what she has to live with. Eternally, no matter what she's doing, she hears a background chatter of mathematics, telling her things like the whisper of a demon and angel on her shoulder. Usually, the outcome is simply a question of probabilities, and she can work out what her subconscious is telling her if she considers it (with a calculator) for a few hours. Sometimes, however, she just knows something. Some factors she doesn't even recognize are telling her something is irrevocably going to happen.


    Yolanda was a good girl. She was born to a suburban family in a good part of town. She has a little sister and an older brother. She had a pet dog named Lacey, a golden doodle dog who chewed her shoes and ate her homework. Her parents pushed her hard: she played in a soccer team; she practiced on her piano till late at night; she volunteered in her spare time; she studied until her eyes melted, it felt like. She received top grades in nearly every subject. She was, however, a bit of a social misfit, growing up. She had friends, generally driven people who were so certain that they were going to make a world for themselves 'out there' that they didn't bother trying to shape the world they had. She never became very close to people, and while she had a couple of relationship, nothing ever became serious. She graduated with honors, essentially picked the college of her choice, and entered as one of the millions of bright young kids working towards their tomorrows.​

    She was told, from the day she was born, that she'd be something special. When it was spring and the girls were all picking flowers, she stayed inside and practiced her piano playing. In the summer, when the kids were playing outside with super-hero capes on, she was told that she'd have a chance to play later. Someday, she was told as the other kids jumped in piles of leaves, she would be glad she'd worked so hard. And then, in the winter of her nineteenth year, sitting in her college dorm room – cramming for yet another test – she realized something. Something just hit her between the eyes.​

    She wasn't going to live forever. There was no magical tomorrow waiting for her. She was going to die. And soon. She couldn't explain exactly how she knew – it was just a tickling sensation in the back of her head that she couldn't control. She wasn't going to live past her twenty-third year. Somehow, inescapably, she was never going to graduate from college. She'd spent the vast majority of her life working for a tomorrow that would never come.​

    Unlike what you might expect from the average person who'd just learned they had four years to live, Yola did not drop out of college. She didn't want to spend her life working a 9-5 job to stay alive. Instead, she slacked off in her classes and tried to find enjoyment in everything. She went to dances and clubs. She started drinking, driving too fast, and living in risky ways. She ran up credit-card debt, ate at the best restaurants she could, and traveled as much as she could during her breaks. After all, why not? It's not like she'd have to pay for it tomorrow, because she didn't have a tomorrow.

    At first glance:
    Yola appears intelligent, emotionally unstable, and like a hedonistic party-girl.

    True personality:

    There's a deep pain inside her. She's going to die. She knows this. Unlike her other intuitions and probabilistic calculations, this is an absolute. She doesn't know why, or how she'll die, but she knows it deep in her bones. She furious at those who tried to plan her future for her and control her present. She's reckless – for a prophetic fortuneteller – and engages in risky behaviors, simply because she knows that they'll affect her later, and there is no later.​

    She's still very intelligent and wise, with a breadth of knowledge that, while not staggeringly impressive, is still respectable. She is generally warm, but in a shallow way. She'd rather not get too close to anyone, and she tells anyone she knows well her death-sentence, so they can prepare themselves. She hates the idea of hurting those she cares about.​

    Yola lives in the moment in many ways. She wants to experience as much of the world as she can before it passes away. However, she also wishes she could make a difference – and the revelation that the world she believed in was all a lie could just be what pushes her from her self-centered hedonism into responsibility.

    ((DONE because I have MAD skills at copy pasting. >->))
    #5 Artesian, Jun 30, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 30, 2013
  6. Name: Aaron Knight
    Gender: Male
    Age: 20

    Physical Description: Aaron has black unruly hair. He wears glasses which covers his dark brown eyes. His face is filled with sharp defined lines. He has a healthy body but one filled with scarrs. He stands 5'11 but is usually seen hunched over as if pondering dark thoughts. He wears mostly dreary clothing, dark and casual. He is usually tuned in on some music to try to drown out the pain.

    Personality: His ability has made him strained and battered. He is overwhelmed with so much pain everyday. This has made him cold and bitter, yet at every moment he jumps in to help. Aaron is so very tired from this. He knows he shouldn't that there is no possible logic for him to do so. He does it anyway. He has bean beaten so many times and so many times he has beaten others, yet the pain is the same. The pain of the victims, the pain of the culprit. He feels them deeply. It hurts so much that he wants to hide. He wants to run away and end it all. But he can't. No matter how many tries he is unable. There is some deep restriction placed on him. It will not let him go. These feelings had lead him to become unsociable. He seeks the company of noone for they will only cause him great pain. All because there is everyone carries some type of pain. Whether they be pain of love, sorrow, anger, jealousy, or hatred. He feels them all and it kills him slowly. Aaron tries to find light in the situation. It is a very difficult and a fruitless effort, but he has to. There is no other way. He has to find some meaning to this. He has to search for the good in people and in himself. For when he truly stops, he is destroyed.

    History: Life has been hard for so long. Aaron was not very talented. He did not play well in sports nor found much motivation to study. There was only pain in his life. First his mother died and then his father left. He made the best of this and survived. He did not quit. He continued to go to school while working various jobs to maintain his living expenses. Often he would get into fights trying fend off people from bullies. This has made him a target as well. School was painful, but he persevered. It was difficult for him relate to others because he knew what other's pains were. He was blunt about them and in return for his honesty he was ignored and shunned. They were scared of him and he was scared of them. Their pains were so utterly bright, he could not concentrate most days. Some hurt so badly he could not be in the classrooms. These days were long, but he finally finished. He immediately moved and tried to find somewhere with less people. This proved difficult because it was hard to live completely alone. Small towns were no better than cities. He found their pains to be more personal and exquisite. And he continued to save poor victims from criminals. This has made him to fight more and more. He has gotten injured badly many times, but not enough to die. He always wondered if he was searching for something. Something to soothe his own pain, but these thoughts carried no comfort for he found nothing to do that. So he continued traveling, doing odd jobs, getting into fights, and finding how painful the world was. He knew there was something wrong. The world can't be so painful. The world cannot be like this. There would be no point in living in such a painful world. Many times he tried to end the pain forever. But all of these times he was stopped by some cruel unseen hand. What is cruelest of all is his own pain for it always lingers with him even when there is nobody around.

    Role: Martyr