forum PRP w/ AloeVera

Started May 05, 2021 by @Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

tune

@AloeVera

Here we are.

Incredible ! Alright should we set up our characters or just plan a setting and get started?

It's up to you. I usually do a template for reference, but I can just jump right in once we get a setting put together, too! It all works for me. Also, do you prefer writing in first or third person perspective, past or present tense?

I can usually adapt to any tense and narrative, but my default is first person and past tense but I'm tryna change my default to present lolol, how about you?
And also, we can setup for a setting. I'm thinking of a city that's still running for the most part, but definitely lost a lot of what a city nowadays would have. fewer options, lots of run-down buildings, ya dig

Yessss. Dilapidated buildings are tight. What's the level of technology? Do we wanna go with more of a cyberpunk lean, with futuristic technology but not necessarily in a way that makes life luxurious, or should it be more like only richer people can afford technology and there's not a lot of it to go around at the moment due to the state of society? What do we want the government to be like? Is there a lot of crime? Are the laws strict? Etc.

I usually adapt to the tense and perspective of whoever I'm rping with, but I can do first or third, present or past, generally with equal ease. I don't do first often, but every time I do, I think "Dang, I should do first more often."

Lmao i love that ! OKay so i'm thinking soemthing along the lines of

A government that never really gets active when it comes to helping the people. For the most part, the government only gets involved if it gets them money. There are nice streets, but even they are simply less trashed than the lower areas. Crime is easy to get away with, but a lot of the time just not worth the effort. As far as technology goes, there's lots of scraps to go around. If you know what you're doing, you can get by pretty easy, but if you don't really know much about technology, you're pretty much screwed.
However, I am also a fan of heavily tyrannical governments, it does help fit in with one of my characters, but I'm open to whatever you want too!

Oh dang… I like both ways. Tyrannical government vs mostly apathetic government. The former gives more room for crime gangs if we wanna go that route, but even with tyranny, there can always be gangs… hmmmm…

I think we can still do gangs with the first one. we could have it so that the gangs are the ones that are actually involved in the city, whether that's a good or bad thing, and they can get away with it because they bribe any authorities to take no action against them? or some gangs just have that much power, y'know?

Yes, I think that would honestly be the most fun. >:)

Awesome! Do you wanna start it off or should I?

Either works for me. :)

Sorry haha i'm vacationing out of state right now, is it cool if you start? I'm better at building off of what you begin with. If you'd rather I start, then that's totally fine!

Alright, I'll get a starter up ASAP. Did I already ask you, uh, how we wanted our characters to meet/interact/etc.?

Oh yeah! Good question, uuhhhhhh, i think I'll be going with my rebellious cyborg, so maybe some kind of action scene in the streets to get us started on an intense note? my guy is always getting into any kind of trouble, if that's any help

Rebellious cyborgs are dope. I can't wait to see him.
I'll slap my starter up soon. What kind of character dynamic you think would pair well with him? I'm thinking about maybe an arsonist or black-market weapons guy, but personality wise… do you think someone more chaotic or someone more strategic would fit well with him?

Hmmm… i think chaotic would be a fun fit. My guy's more the kind that still worries about everything lol so I think Chaos paired with Giant Ball of Anxiety would be a fun duo

Alright, perfect. One last question is how old do we want our characters to be?

Here's my starter. It's not the best, but it'll be better. Some of it is intentionally vague, but we'll develop/clarify it as we go. Does this work? He's super chaotic and that'll become more apparent when the characters interact.

Starter: Egan McCoy

Fire is kind of like love. It starts off as a little spark, a tiny flame that has to be fed in order to grow. In the early stages, it can usually be smothered out pretty easily. But, if it's fed, it can grow into something bright. Something that cannot easily be extinguished. Something that can warm those around it, thaw even the most frozen hearts, and light their paths.
You know what else fire is like? Hate. It too starts out as a flickery little flame, easily stomped out if someone catches it early enough. The biggest difference in love-fire and hate-fire is that, when fed, hate-fire doesn't grow into something bright and warm. Hate-fire grows into a raging inferno with a singular goal. It devours everything in its path, with no regard for the ashes and rubble it leaves behind. And it won't stop until it has eaten up everything.

I take a massive bite out of my dinner— a triple-cheese burrito I got at a dilapidated little diner down the street (and let me tell you, they have the best food)— as I watch the building in front of me go up in flames. The whole places glows bright against the otherwise dark street, like a torch in a dark cave. Fire laps out of the windows, licking towards the sky, little sparks floating off into the night. Smoke bellows from the roof, a dark cloud dotted with those aforementioned sparks.

My handiwork. It's so frickin' beautiful that I sniff a little and wipe a tear from my eyelash.

I have a feeling that the owners of the building— a warehouse, actually, that was being used to store some illegal contraband owned by a local crime syndicate— won't be nearly as impressed by the majesty of the flame that's eating up their property.

Good. I'm counting on that. Because this is my hate-fire.

The smell of the burning air— no, the smell of revenge— brings a grin to my face. It's so pleasant. So addictive. So… calming.

This street, on the edge of town, is mostly empty tonight, which is why I notice when a vehicle comes speeding down the road. No sirens or lights; it's not the police. (Tch, like police or firefighters ever do anything these days, anyway.) I can assume it's my good frenemies from the crime syndicate, coming to discuss why their belongings have officially been reduced to fire-fuel. And also probably to beat my brains out for being the one who caused it to be reduced to fire fuel.

Yeeeaaaa… I should probably leave now before I die.

I shove the rest of the burrito into my mouth and grab the empty gasoline cannister beside my foot before darting into the opening of a nearby alleyway; the sound of gunfire fills the air and bullets ricochet off of the brick wall beside me. Crap, no. Those aren't regular bullets, because they don't want me to have a quick death. Those are instant tranquilizer bullets. Where the frick do these jokers even get crap like instant tranquilizer bullets?

A bullet grazes past my head; I nearly choke on my burrito before dropping it altogether. I might've actually tried salvaging it if it hadn't plopped right into a puddle, but since I'm still getting shot at, it's really not worth going back for. Behind me, the car door slams; I can imagine several of the guys pouring out of the vehicle to come after me.

"You're a dead man, McCoy!" one man yells with acid in his voice.

It's dumb— I'm running for my life, after all— but I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "I dunno about that," I call back, sounding thoroughly unconcerned. I reach into my pocket and pull out a small, circular device with a fuse on it, and a lighter. "I'm feelin' pretty alive right about now." I flick the lighter, hold the little flame up to the device, and chuck it as far back behind me as it will possibly go. I don't stop to see how close or far they are from me, but it doesn't matter; I need to move faster if I don't wanna—

An explosion rocks the ground beneath me, and a wave of heat and air sends me flying forward. I slam into a wall and hit the pavement, hard. Everything aches, especially my head. I probably should've thought that through a little better. Several long moments pass before I find the strength to move. I push myself to my knees and glance up, my regrets vanishing at the sight of the perfectly gorgeous wall of fire separating me from my pursuers.

I slowly get to my feet, body throbbing, and make a sharp turn to disappear down the alley. That fire should buy me enough time to get away, for now.

They'll be after me again soon enough. Especially after I strike another one of their locations. And another. And another.

Because my hate-fire won't stop until it has burned them to the ground.

Wow, that starter is Beautiful,,,,,, also I think my guy is early-to-mid 20s, so maybe around that area? Okay,okay, I'm gonna go ahead and start on mine.

Eddie Kalor

It's cold, and not the cozy kind. You don't feel like snuggling up to your lover and sipping hot coffee. This is the type of loneliness that can't be cured. You feel small; you feel isolated. Your hair stands on end as if alerting you of some danger, but it's not even there either. The snow is no comfort against your skin.
I look up to the clouds as if doing so would move them out of my way somehow. Instead, I'm greeted with more snowflakes. I can't see him. I can't see him. Why is he here?
The indescribable feeling of falling throws me back into consciousness. I'd fallen asleep on my dad's gravestone again. After climbing through that phase between asleep and awake, I stand up on my feet. I don't remember doing it earlier, so I say my apologies to him.
"I don't know what else to do, dad. I know you'd be able to tell me, but I just hope that you'd understand why I have to do this. It's the last resort, I promise, I'm out of options. I'm sorry, dad. I hope you'll forgive me."
With that, I make my way out of the cemetery. I know there are other souls surrounding my father's gravestone. I like to pretend they knew him and are paying their respects as well. He was a good man, as far as I remember. Unfortunately, that's what got him killed.
Exiting the gate, I notice some smoke down the block. A car whizzes by with an evident sense of urgency. Wasn't a firetruck, and definitely wasn't cops, so it's probably the owners of whatever the fire is eating up.
I shouldn't check it out. With how many gangs and mafia-like organizations are thriving around this side of town, it's definitely none of my business. And if I walked over there, which I'm doing right now for some God-forsaken reason, I would get in a lot of trouble. Like, a lot, so I should turn around right no-The sound of an explosion interrupts what little thoughts I had going on, as my walking evolves into light jogging.
Just before I turn the corner, some guy bursts through me, scrambling to get his balance as he runs down the street.
I'm no detective, but my intuition tells me that I should start running too. Without a second thought, I turn my heel and start following the guy. God knows I don't want to find out what's on the other side of that corner.

(It's perfect; I love it.)

My body aches like heck, but the satisfying aroma of smoke and fire that floods my senses helps ease some of the pain. The blow to my head must've been a little worse than I realized; I'm still dazed. My thoughts are all blurry. A few whites spots hop across my vision. I just hope I don't pass out.

I won't. I refuse.

I turn a sharp corner and practically barrel right through some guy heading my direction. I almost wipe-out but manage to keep my momentum. I don't know if he's an idiot or a genius for running towards the fiery explosives, but, in all honesty, we all know that if some building randomly burst into flames around here, I'd definitely be charging to check it out.

Except I already know why the warehouse behind me has combusted, so now it's time to run in the opposite direction.

Footsteps pound behind me, but I don't bother to look back. I don't think they're after me, anyway. There's no possible way that anyone from the crime scene has caught up with me yet— not with that fire wall I blew up back there. Besides, they're probably too busy trying to put out the warehouse inferno with their tears.

Hah— suckers.

But just in case the guy is tailing me and not just some other loser putting distance between himself and my destructive fire-child back there, I dart into a separate alleyway, deeper into the heart of this city. I know these roads like the back of my hand— every twist, every turn, every secret passage, every hiding spot. Nobody has ever been able to catch me in this labyrinth of dilapidated bars and dingy casinos.

But the second I turn into the alley, my foot catches on something small and furry. The cat lets out an ungodly yowl— and so do I, as a face-plant right into the pavement. I thought the pounding in my skull was bad before, but now it's like my brain it gonna explode right out of my head. The cat darts off; I push myself to my knees, and my arms nearly give out. Blood drips from my nose, onto the damp asphalt.

Well, this sucks.

I scramble to my feet again and stumble forward a few feet before I hit my knees again; they scrape against the rough ground, even though my thick cargo pants. Maybe I should just— sit here for like three seconds and take a breather.

Just three seconds.

Funny enough, something tells me this guy in front of me isn't running for the same reason I am; I mean, obviously, we're both running away from the burning building, but he holds a different sense of urgency than I do. Could it be…?
Nah, nothing interesting happens around me, right? I mean, I guess nothing as crazy as this…right?
The loud cry of some alley cat ripped me from my thoughts as I turn wide-eyed toward the sound, noticing the guy from earlier sitting on the dirty concrete. I catch my balance after a poor attempt to slow to a stop as I lean into the alley.
"Hey, you oka-"
The pained sound of gunfire fills the air as I jump, the hairs on my skin standing on end. What the f-are they shooting at us? The hell did this guy do to get these guys so angry to waste bullets that leisurely?
I scramble the rest of my body behind the side of the building, exhaling heavily. I turn back to the kid that sat on the ground, and in between the sounds of gunshots, I hiss a burning question toward him.
"What the hell is going on, and what's the best escape route?"