Browsing Pinterest, found a bunch of prompts, and I’m ready and raring to go for any single one. I’ll share the prompts once you’re clear to join :).
Rules:
- Probably keep it pg13 on the questionable topics but if you need to go R rated just run it past me.
- Just because I don’t use overly explicit language doesn’t mean you can’t. Feel free to curse like a sailor, but I will not return it.
- If you don’t like humor or playful insults then this probably isn’t the best rp for you. We don’t yet have an established storyline, however half the time I still have terribly humorous characters.
- Please have at least ok grammar. I get that sometimes people don’t— heck, I don’t most of the time— but please try.
- Please respond with actual content, I don’t want to have to keep the story going myself. Have your character act more than react.
- Have fun, buddy. It’s your rp as much as it is mine. Take it by the horns, derail it, smack it back on track, whatever you want.
I’ll get templates and storyline out once someone joins :). I will ask for a writing sample. If you find this and think one of the prompts given are cool, but someone has already joined, say so and I’ll totally make another chat to take you up as well.
Sounds good to me. If you’d like I can share some bits of my writing so you can just see my style and whatnot.
(Heyo, stumbled across this and I would be down to rp with you, may I join? :D)
( @GameMaster, sure go ahead and send in a sample! As for @gracehustle, I could start a new thread and tag you, if you’d like. Or we could get storyline and whatnot sorted through pm’s instead of just clogging this chat lol. Whatever you prefer :)
(Sorting things out through pm's works with me!)
From an RP:
It was under the shelter of a bus stop on a rainy day that the two met. Both were tired of watching their loved ones die as they had been cursed with eternal life. Thankfully though, they were also both chaotic dumbasses who longed to adventure and possibly fuck stuff up on the way. One of the two, Lucien, stood up and walked out into the rain.
“I know we’re immortal but let’s cross stuff off our bucket lists. Where to?”
From a WIP:
“Azrael has been asking for you,” He choked out. “They say they await you. Dare I say, miss you?”
Rose’s eyes burned from their normal grey color into bronze to match Virgil’s wings.
“You do not dare.” She steadied her composure. “You know as well as I that I am not welcome back in Heaven. If I return, I will be imprisoned.”
“That is not true-”
“I was the Warden!” She snapped. “Do not try to tell me the rules of the very place I ran.”
From a Warmup:
“You can’t leave! Your face is pasted all over the streets. You’ll be killed the second you leave,” She begged.
“We’re all leaving. We’ve been holed up here for far too long. Tonight, the king dies.”
(Yes, looks great, you’re in! Do you have any preference on genre or writing style?)
(Not really expect I prefer to write in past tense. Can I see the prompts to see what we’re working with?)
(Of course. I’ll type them up tomorrow and we can choose— and possibly start— then :)
Alrighty, here we go!
These can mainly be changed to fit different genres:
-
A normal person with a sort of bleak background is being tracked by an assassin. A spy/hitman was sent out to protect the person against the assassin, but when the spy is killed, the organization has to turn to the next best thing… the intern. The person must be protected at all cost. Even if the cost is sending out the only thing they have left. Either an intern or newly employed, one this is for sure— they’re not very good at their job.
-
One of the best monsters is assigned a child’s bed to creep under, since all the other monsters say they can’t scare them. The monster arrived his first night, and almost immediately the child acknowledges their arrival. The monster does everything in their power to scare them, however the child doesn’t budge. Upon giving up and asking why, the child replies that there is something much scarier to be worried about.
-
When two long forgotten lesser deities get bored of living in the celestial plane, they decide to take on a different human form, and travel down to experience how far mortal life has come. Now able to feel the excitement and pleasures of real life, as well as the fragility of a human body, they realize the mortal plane is not as bad as they first thought it would be— and maybe even better.
These three I really liked. If none of them fit your fancy I have a few others I can stick here. We can alter them however you like, too.
I think I like the first one most. How do you wanna go about it?
Your choice, really. I can get up some character templates. Would you rather be the very bad spy or the person in which needs protecting? Or a third undetermined?
I think I’d prefer to be the one being protected. For this kind of rp we should probably have templates so you could do one or I also have a template if you’d like
I also have a few. But first, what time are we thinking? Modern day? Medieval? Future? Etc. And would you want it to be a romance? Or any other kind of subgenre?
I think a mildly dystopian future would be a nice setting, maybe even a little cyberpunk. I think it has potential to be a romance and I think that is kind of a interesting idea.
Alrighty. Do you have a template you like using, or should I go grab one?
(Any of the unmarked sections you can leave tbd)
^Full Name:
Aliases:
^Age:
^Gender:
Occupation(s)/Job(s):
^Physical Desc: (Links okay, but please describe them too. Shorter desc if links are provided, but otherwise please be semi-thorough)
Standard Apparel:
^Personality:
^Habits/Mannerisms:
^Hobbies:
^Backstory:
^Full Name: Anderson March
Aliases: DD / March / Rookie
^Age: 20
^Gender: Male h/h
Occupation(s)/Job(s): Newer “Tracker Agent” tasked with keeping a certain someone safe.
^Physical Desc: Sort of a lanky guy, standing at roughly 6’0” and holding a moderate amount of muscle. It’s less defined, thus the lithe structure and sort of skinny appearance. He has a kind smile, one that tends to get him out of trouble. His hair is a darker blonde, almost caramel brown, and cut shorter on either side of his head. It’s pushed back and stays back, save for a few strands that end up in his eyes anyway. His eyes are a nice striking amber color, although they appear dimmer as he ages. As a child, they were bright to the point of being like a kaleidoscope in the sun, to being just moderately orange with a few flakes of dirty gold. He holds a more angular facial structure, and despite his sort of resting serious face, it can switch in an instant to a sheepish grin.
Standard Apparel: Anything he can move easily in. DD’s mainly in his standard USS jersey or suit. It’s a deep navy uniform that allows him to move somewhat freely. It has dark copper trimming on the insides of the sleeve cuffs, and holds his small patch in the shirt pocket. The patch is one of his most valued possessions.
^Personality: Despite his mostly intimidating appearance, counting his serious facial expression and height, Anderson is a complete idiot. He’s really… not good at his job, and has a terrible knack for unwanted trouble. He has more or less a “bleeding heart,” and will try to help anything he sees having trouble. He is deeply caring and gets attached easily, but is also completely easily distracted. He’s not a one to joke or flirt either, mainly because he’s very oblivious to social cues.
^Habits/Mannerisms: DD speaks with his hands a lot, and tends to motion frantically when nervous. He has a hard time keeping his cool, so it’s not hard to get his heart rate up and pumpin’. When flustered, his breaths quicken and he tends to ramble.
^Hobbies: Tinkering / Inventing, in his free time (which he rarely gets) / Helping others
^Backstory: Always fascinated with the secretive ways of the Unsung Service, Anderson devoted himself to becoming a part of it. With the help from mainly supportive parents, he was able to land an internship at one of the branches off their headquarters. Needed new recruits desperately, because hard times call for those kinds of measures, they let DD join. Tracking one of their important cases, the people at USS soon discovered the tracker on the case of <insert your character’s name> had been killed off, and a replacement was greatly needed. Being the only member without an already important position, Tracker March was set off to fill in the previous tracker’s quite massive shoes.
(Here we go. I can change anything pertaining to the storyline, and I’ll be happy to take any pointers you have :)
^Full Name: Abigail(Abbie) Aster
Aliases: Abbie, Aster, Mockingbird
^Age: 19
^Gender: Female
Occupation(s)/Job(s): Undercover reporter and journalist for a newspaper called “The Daily Gold”
^Physical Desc: 5’5 and fairly thin. Long black/brown hair often tied up in a bun or ponytail or clipped to the side. She has an olive skin tone and hazel eyes that tend to shift between green and gold depending on the day. Her eyes are almond shaped and she has vitiligo down her neck and on her hands. She appears to be someone to be trusted although her expression is often bitter.
Standard Apparel: black cargo pants, a tank top, and a grey zip up hoodie cover in various pins and patches that she has collected. She often has gold clips in her hair and carries around a black canvas camera bag that has her camera equipment as well as her notes. She wears short grey combat boots as well.
^Personality: Shes friendly but distant which makes her very good at her job as she doesn’t form emotional connections easily. She’s passionate and really just can’t let a dead end be a dead end so she hates abandoning stories. Her emotions are controlled but she can have a bit of an attitude if she’s pushed to that point. Despite her “every man for himself” mentality Abbie can’t help but to be helpful and spirited.
^Habits/Mannerisms: When stressed she will fidget with her hands and tense her shoulders. The pitch of her voice adjusts to how she’s feeling so it tends to get higher if she’s a little more loose and lower if she’s more serious.
^Hobbies: Writing and photography obviously as well as self defense and occasionally hacking.
^Backstory: She grew up very sheltered in a family who hid her from news of the outside world and kept their feeling to themselves. This gave her a love of learning as she was so deprived of it at home so she took classes in journalism as well as computer science. She graduated highschool a year early at age 16 and was in college for a year before dropping out when she was offered a full time position at The Daily Gold, a newspaper famous for the people they had exposed. She may have dug too deep though, because now there seems to always be eyes on her.
(I like your character. I think that as mentioned in the backstory she dug too deep for a news story and that’s why she needs to be protected. What do you think?)
(Love her! And yep, sounds good. We ready for the starter, or should we get anything else fleshed out before?)
(I think we’re good to go. I’ll do my best to play along with whatever you start with. Just tell me if I’m going too far off the script.)
(Oh don’t worry about that at all, you can take it in any direction you want! I’ll get the starter up in a sec :)
“Why does she need protecting, exactly?” he asked, brushing the blonde strands of hair from his eyes as he strode forward, desperately trying to keep up with the head coordinator.
“Agent, what did I say about asking questions?” the bigger man replied stoically, upping his pace even more. His voice was gruff and unforgiving, holding no pang of vulnerability whatsoever.
“Well, not to, but—,” March began, but before he could speak another word, the bigger man reeled around and held up a scarred hand.
Stopping abruptly, Anderson’s papers nearly dropped from his hands, a few threatening to be whisked away by the generated wind.
“I just want to know why,” DD cooed, his cheeks and ears both fading into a light pink as he averted his eyes. “The only information on her portfolio is her name and that she works for The Daily Gold, as well as residency, age… other.”
The coordinator— or CHC, as the rest of the crew called him— put his raised hand to his temples, massaging them with his thumb and middle finger.
“Listen, Rookie. You keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be fine. You keep your distance, and you’ll be fine. You stop asking questions, and you’ll be fine.” He paused for a moment, straightening out his posture and letting his hand fall limp once more. “Now, go to the rally. Or whatever case she’s working on now. In a crowd of people, you’ll look standard. HP has your equipment. Do you copy?”
“Yes, sir,” Anderson muttered timidly, watching as the man wasted no time in turning back around and stalking off.
With a lazy sigh and throw of his head, DD headed off the way he had come, organizing his papers as he went.
Abbie tried to make her way to the front of the gathering crowd. Overall the air was tense with a need for answers. She was honestly surprised how many people had showed up. A few even had signs.
“When was he supposed to be talking?” She asked a man to her right.
“Fifteen minutes ago,” He huffed. “Some are saying he might not show at all.”
Abigail nodded and continued to nudge through the crowd, eager to get a clear shot of the mayor. Just over a week ago The Daily Gold has released a scathing exposé on his activities funneling money from The Board of Education directly into his wallet. Today he was supposed to be making a public address and answering questions and Abbie planned on making a follow-up article about it.
Another five minutes passed before Mayor Earl Smith took the podium. Despite the fairly cold temperature, he was visibly sweating.
“I come before you today to address the accusations made by a public news source that were released last Sunday.” He paused a moment to wipe his brow with a handkerchief and in the process noticed Abbie at the front of the crowd, holding a camera. His eye twitched and she could’ve sworn that he growled at her.
The address continued and Abbie kept a few notes but his answers were pretty clearly BS. Luckily for the people, elections were coming up in the next month.
When he started answering questions she left because all of his answers were: “I can neither confirm nor deny.” As she shuffled out of the crowd, she couldn’t sworn that someone watched her leave. Ever since she had done some digging into the local mafia as a personal project she had been on edge. She shook her head; she hadn’t actually written anything so they would have no way of knowing. Right?
