General RP Chat #52: *A flash of light did nothing*

Lore Role-playing
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:thinking:

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:thinking:

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:thinking:

With any luck, we didn’t chase away yet another forumling.

This RP Forum is empty enough as it is. We need more people to liven it up!

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You broke the elven :thinking: chain! And we’ve already had so nice void elf-blood elf pattern going on. I hope we succeed to post more of it the next time.

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Me? Nope, dont worry :wink:
If not me… yeah, lets hope :slight_smile:

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Hey I wanna say sorry about being stand offish. I get ticked off over little details, and woke up with a nasty boxing day hangover, so I was having a bad mood tick. Still think some stuff’s silly but it aint a big deal

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I’m for a change in a nice mood, so catch some upvotes folks! Until I hit the limit of how many I can give.

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It happens with everyone
No hard feeling - its my fault too. Not my main language, and the braincell part was totally wrong. I didn’t ment that way, just tired to ease the

part ^^
Stupid language barriers…
Anyhow, If you want to discuss it, im open for debates anytime.
I learned to doubt my own infallibility long time ago :3

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Dream Diary chapter 56: Imagine that!

A mid thirties scruffy man of russian descent lives in a tiny, rented hovel. All is generally dull and miserable until one day when a strange suited agent appears at the front door. Our scruffy protagonist is offered a job. The suited agent is, as g-men often are, unwilling or incapable of speaking in anything but official legalese but Scruffy understands that the job involves testing something dangerous in return for great rewards. Living as he does, he greedily accepts no matter the risk.

The Agent smiles and injects our hero with something using a syringe to the neck and everything goes dark. The scruffy man wakes up in another part of the city, finding himself changed. He now has fangs and an apparent need to feed. The agent made him into a vampire! This was not the deal and the man scours the city to find the agent for some bloody minded objections to this horrid state of affairs.

He finds the Agent back at the apartment building he’d call home. The Agent never left and is delighted to see the scruffy vampire. It actually worked! Curiosity and confusion overwhelms our hero and he demands answers as to what this is all about. The Agent explains, in less legalese, that the serum wasn’t a vampire virus or some other nonsense. No, it unlocks hitherto untouched potential in the mind and allows one to physically manipulate matter by willpower. A sufficiently imaginative person can mount a “Tyre”, a new form built on concepts of the mind, only demanding prior conceptual knowledge. In a scruffy layman’s words; to quite some extent, if he can imagine it, he can become it as long as it’s more or less human shaped. An amazing power, the serum had previously been tested on soldiers but the Agent states dismissively that “meatheads” lack the cognition and initiative to fully use their imaginations.

And just what is the price of all this? The Agent reveals that he serves another being, not an agency, and this being, this Mistress, would use our hero as a weapon against his species. Refusing, the scruffy man becomes a Tyre and attacks the Agent with flames and super strength, stripping the Agent of its disguise. A suited agent indeed, his human form slouches off to reveal what is unambiguously a green skinned demon with a snake tongue which gleefully waxes on about mankind’s greed and how simple it was to make Scruffy a tool.

A brief beating later, our hero “banishes” the demon and flees to wander the world in various disguises as different people over many years, seeking to hide from the demons and their Mistress as he refuses to be their weapon. He adops many personas and lives many lives in various shapes, sexes, ethnicities, all to get away from his pursuers. An unknown but vast number of years pass like this.

One day, he sits on a tourist bus in Tibet and has a pleasant conversation with a dark skinned man who excitedly shares his newly purchased self-help book with religious fervour. Little does this man know that our hero wrote that very book ages ago in another guise, in another life and is very familiar with all the self-help tricks he has needed to survive. As such, he is very amused by all the enthusiasm.

All of this is cut short by the bus crashing. What seems like a random accident soon proves disastrous; the demons found him! He wakes up in a dark room, on a bed, restrained by handcuffs. A woman with big, fluffy red hair appears next to him but nothing about the situation is at all exciting because he is in the company of Mistress! She purrs at him in a seductive voice, scolding him for thinking that he could ever escape and saunters off to fetch some tools, not so subtly also implying that she is about to devour him.

Terrified, the man finds that his handcuffs aren’t secured to the bed and he rushes to flee. Outside the small room, the glamour collapses and the demonic realm stretches out as a great swamp filled with unearthly plants and dancing lights. The further away he gets, the tighter do the handcuffs get and it’s obvious that they aren’t what they seem as they ripple and shift into jagged, spiked living metal which tries to cut into his wrists. He’s going to lose his hands and bleed out! Applying his imagination, he becomes another Tyre; a shape of magnetic fragments which slip free from the cuffs. He is free! Except that the things of the swamp surround him. Soon, only a stain remains of his body and Mistress bemoans the difficulty of finding good help these days…

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:thinking:

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I don’t like emojis nor emoticons.

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:slightly_frowning_face:

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:put_litter_in_its_place:

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:clinking_glasses:

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My clumsy fingers log onto the wrong characters to post things. Does anyone know if the system resets if a character is deleted? I mean, all the posting stats are tied to individual characters but if they’re removed for alt space and then brought back later, does it count as a new character or are prior posting stats retained?

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Happy New Year nerds. /moo

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Happy new years. hope your all doing good.

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Conditions acceptable. Life sustainability within tolerable parameters. Thanks.

No dream diary today. All I remember is a rapidly fading but complete grunge style song with highy symbolic lyrics and it all melts away quickly as I woke myself up by the effort of trying to put it to memory so as to write it down and play it later.

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Dream Diary piece 57: Obsolete.

Enter a world of high technology and nigh unlimited potential. Humanity conquered its faults at great cost and saved the planet from themselves. Space holds infinite promise and it’s regarded a moral imperative to explore it for human sustainability.

Our protagonist is not a human. Rather, a humanoid robot of simple but robust design made for a new age on the cusp of eliminating scarcity. Somewhat blocky with slender limbs, the android (such as it is) is part of a generation of machines designed to last as its creators were still struggling with sustainability. Thus, the android was built to endure the ages with a simple but sturdy frame and artificial cognition that allowed for self teaching and adaption in perpetuity to eliminate needless operating system functionality and the eventual need to replace it.

The narrative from then on is focused on the android “living” through this new age and observing how mankind grows. Deathless and unchanging but growing mentally with the years, the android sees old models replaced and human technology changing from blocky, utilitarian giant LEGO designs toward sleek biomechanical wonders in glittering cities in an unambiguous utopia but for one thing;

The android is the last of its kind in this new age, travelling the worlds of man with a growing concern. Nothing that allowed it to exist is around anymore, its blocky frame outdated and crude. It cannot relate to man’s new creations, sleek and beautiful but simple minded compared to its vast self taught means of reflection. There is a creeping sadness despite itself, a feeling learned, not programmed, that humanity no longer needs the android in any capacity and it now exists only for itself, bereft of purpose and even material worth. The android is a relic; an ever expanding but undesired mind shackled to a primitive, practically indestructible body with no outlet nor means to replace what is lost. Its name, Plateau, once a promise of its role as something rising above man’s limits, a support structure of a struggling species, is now a symbolic indication of its unchanging limitations. As it turns out, even machines can know despair…