Antarctic Termite

Happenings in the Facility

Despite every instinct telling me otherwise, sometimes loudly, I decided to make a 100% unplanned and unplotted roleplay.

Aim of the game is purely to see if posts can be fun without any kind of superstructure. The environment, background, and NPC population is entirely open to improvisation from all players. Characters need no sheet; They're defined entirely by their thoughts and actions.

The 'rules' are as follows.

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-With each post, something must happen. This must involve the actions of your character, and advance the interactions in a way that can be a base for a variety of answers.

-Similarly, each post must build on the actions of others in some way.

-Don't put your character in a position where leaving would cripple interactions for other characters.

-Don't be afraid to make minor inferences about the behaviour of other characters, especially those who haven't posted recently, so your character has some way of ending interactions with absent players.

-Feel free to reveal more of the setting as you imagine it in any post. You may introduce new concepts or NPCs at will.

-Do not introduce large or game-changing setting traits in a single post. If you do want to, chat about it out of character first.

-The OOC can be used for pretty much any vaguely story- or character-related banter. Discuss ideas and theories until they stop being interesting. Then post memes. (Responsibly, mind.)

-I actually want to keep the game fairly lighthearted. The tone can be comedic if you feel like you can pull it off. Just remember that funny is rarely silly or random.

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To start playing, pop a character image, very brief description, name and simple abilities list in the character thread. Your character can be anything that makes you happy. Make sure to link the artist.

Then go nuts.

Dump?

"Leave him be, Keriss," said Tauga, voice as flat as ever. "Sin's desires have always benefited us in the past. He's not the Devil."

Dump?

"Well, the buildings are wrecked," observed Tauga, monotone. "The fields are untended and the crops died in the blood rain. Also, everyone is Dagon. So that's pretty fucking weird, I guess." There wasn't a trace of incrimination nor of discontent in her voice. She just recounted what she saw, as she'd been told.

"I'm not good at the whole... City thing. If you think this is better, then there's probably just something I haven't realised yet."

Transfer 4

* * * * *

On the day before her fever broke, the hain chieftain lay twisting and tossing in her nest, once a tidy affair of blankets and straw now reduced to a tangled crater around her. A curtain had been pulled over the hut's door and the fire was nearly dead. Her paramours had gone out to fetch food, and she was alone in the dark.

Then she was not.

"Iffary."

The hallucination was stronger than the usual fever dreams. Its glow put her aching head into a daze.

"Listen, Iffary, for my words are no fell vision. My voice is real and my light is blinding. I, Chiral Phi, have measured the thread of your life, and found that there is yet length in it. It shall be woven into my pattern.

"Before the sun sets tonight, your son, Pil, will succumb to infection. Seven days from now he will die. There will be no time to mourn, for mere hours later, a hair demon will take the life of your oldest paramour Zulie, and the tribe will never recover. You will watch ill fortune destroy all you love. This I have foreseen.

"Only one thing will save the lives of your children. Hear it well. You must name Pil as your new heir as soon as you leave this hut. You will have to forsake your eldest daughter Neiko. With Pil at your side, you will take the whole tribe, and all its possessions, and guide it to the place beyond the Mount of Willows. There alone your survival is assured."

Zulie entered the low, round building. His eyes widened as he watched a luminous haze evaporate from the body of the chief and disappear into the air. The tray of bread forgotten and left to fall to the ground, he rushed forward to grip her hand. She was weeping.

Time passed. Iffary recovered; Pil fell ill. Pil was named heir according to the words of the vision. Neiko fell into a confused dejection. A glorious apparition appeared to Pil, dazzling all those who were present, and he gained the strength to recover. Zulie saw a large fiberling lurking in the boulders.

The tribe hesitated to abandon their home, but did not stand against Iffary's divine right. Neiko went walking along the cliffs and never returned. A storm was coming, and her family could not afford to stay long enough to mourn her suicide. What hope they had left lay before them, in the meadowed places beyond the Mount of Willows.

There a four-armed figure awaited them, carrying the egg of a new deity in their delicate fingers.

Transfer 4

* * * * *

The Tedar boy watched the mountain flocks of his clan as they watered from the river. Fur and cashmere warmed him as the breezes turned cold and the sunlight lost its sharpness, clouds darkening before rain. There was a hollow not far from the ford, used for many generations by young goatherds not so different to himself; He would shelter there tonight.

As he watched and dozed, the air began to fray into ribbons of colour, as if cracked and leaking.

It erupted into being before his very eyes, a shocking bloom of melodic sound and luminescence.

"Fear not, Sormunu. This is not the end of your days. If you listen closely, and listen well, it is a new beginning.

"These clouds are no ordinary rain. Watch the way they sprawl like the sweep of a hand- A Djinni approaches to clash with his rival. Don't be deceived by the quiet of the moment. Sormunu, a storm is coming, like the clan has not seen in ten years. Therefore you must go.

"Return the way you came, to the high ground where your family dwells. Be not afraid to leave goats behind. They shall be kept safe by my hand, and your elders will soon see that your life was in grave danger. Do not trust the ford, or the hollow, for their banks will burst, and you will drown. Trust only me.

"For my name is Chiral Phi, and I have seen many storms, and know each one by name and number. My word is true and my promise is life. Leave this place, Sormunu, and tell all of what you have seen."

And with a sound like distilled lightning poured out of a bowl, the goddess disappeared. Sormunu watched, momentarily stunned, then looked up to the growing storm, and saw- For a fraction of a moment- A scowling face. Then he turned away, and, shouting to awaken the goats, ran.

As his footsteps disappeared, a black-eyed figure with a metal arch in its neck emerged from the boulders, and picked up the Tedar's fallen staff in a delicate paw disproportionate to their size. As the rain began to break, their soft calls led the flocks away to the cliffs which only mountain goats and Sculptors dare scale.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

I have a few plans to resurrect the Pronobii and put them to good functional use, actually, but that's a turn away at the moment.

Transfer 4

Old Walker stood in a high place, unreachable but to mountain goats and Sculptors. In the delicate hold of their feathered mid-arm rested the Kernel, softly pulsing.

There was a flash on the air, an undulating sheet of fleet-footed aquamarine light racing its way across the alpine meadow that swept out below, a stunning springtime green bordered by the earthen shades of sedge and lichen, crossed and patterned by meltwater streams. Beyond, the Ironhearts ascended relentlessly, though this place was already above the treeline. And, crowning their efforts in the distance- Always in the distance, for her gaze was impossible to escape- Bormahven. The supervolcano, one million years at rest.

"It's perfect," whispered the voice of Chiral Phi in sultry glee. This close to her core, the avatar did not need to manifest in order to speak. "Mrruuu," replied Old Walker, their expressionless, black-eyed face tracing the movement of the pale indigo spirit as it made another impossibly fast lap of the valley, looping its way around entire mountains in seconds. "We can start here."

"Muun?"

"Yes, let's."

With that, a goddess and her prophet gazed out over the impossible heights, and stepped down and away, into the clouds below. Departing, for a brief enough time, the Holy Land to be.

* * * * *

Late in the night did it come, when among all the heavenly bodies only Mirus was high, casting its weird anaglyphic moonshadows through an open window. Chaybrega woke to the sound of metal clicking against the sill.

She stirred, looked up, saw the stars through sweeping gossamer wings- A faery. Little black inkdrops marked its perch in the window. The young woman rose uncertainly, wondering if perhaps some food scraps had been left that might attract the insect, and leaned to the cold outside air to shoo it away.

The faery retreated, and slowly blossomed into a mesmerising wind of light spiralling on the air.

"Listen, child. You sleep alone in the house of your mother, though you dream to wake one day in the arms of the hunter, Yallas. Shhh. I have seen this in your eyes, the way you watch him and look away.

"Chaybrega, you must put aside these feelings you have nursed. Yallas is not the woman for you. You may win her affections easily, but her love is only because she does not believe she will find anyone else. Seek instead the heart of your friend, Teliff, whom you have trusted for long years. She is not open with herself, and pretends to know you as a companion only because you have never considered more.

"I am Phi the Beautiful, the Voice of Mirus. I have counted the stars in the sky and the souls on the earth, and found the one that is best for you. Go, Chay- These words will make you happy."

Then the light dissolved into nothing. Chaybrega's rapture slowly faded, and she was left looking out over a faintly lit clifftop village. Down the settlement's only road, a large, long-necked figure with four forelegs seemed to watch her with a blank, owl-like face. Then it turned and loped silently into the night.

Weird Roleplay Ideas You're Afraid To Pitch?

Elaborate kinks. Elaborate kinks, and politics.

Always wanted to pitch an arena Rp called: The Multiverse Games (needs a better name) that takes place in the universe that is Roleplay Guild. Players can take characters from any roleplay they've made an character for a play them in an ever changing arena. But this is never just a brawl, it could be a survival game, a tourney, a mystery to solve. Its ever changing, and doesn't require some superpower character to play. Never thought it could work.

@LokiLeo789

I made that, once, and it survived for like three years.

Follow your dreams, kiddo.

Transfer 4

I have attempted it many times. It is not implausible that I have perfected the technique, insofar as that is possible with my current grasp of horde magic. That technique, be it my own or simply a rediscovery of what others may find intuitive in the past or in the future, is as follows.

On a dry, windless space, dig a small hollow, or erect a circle of rocks. Gather dry grasses and fibres of bark or husk; This shall be tinder. Tie the tinder into a light ball with plenty of air, yet tight enough not to unravel easily. In the hollow, assemble bark and rocks over the tinder such that it is weighed down. Begin pulsing chaotic energy into the center of the mass in the smallest concentration you are able to produce, continuously, such that the repeating explosions do not blast away the assembly, but heat the air within the pit until the tinder ignites spontaneously.

Though I have tried this many times, I do not yet know of any reason why I should light fires, nor benefit I could gain from them. In every experiment that places myself in close contact with flame, I am at risk of painful burning. Evidently, the many functions to which other beings can repurpose fire are not applicable to me.

For this reason, and after some momentary consideration, I elect to flee when the False Angel comes.

I call it this, for its wings are not feathered, and its flesh is not solid, and its clothes gleam like still water in sunlight. Perhaps the angels I know were weak imitations of this entity, and this is the True Angel. I find this thought only slightly more interesting than it is concerning. They may be unrelated.

The False Angel takes sight of me and descends rapidly. I am fast, but it is faster. With a sweep of its hands (talons? gauntlets?) a wave of white passes through the forest canopy, leaving brilliant flame in its wake; Had I been on flat ground, it seems likely that I would have been incinerated. At this point my ability to analyse the situation collapsed.

We fought. Fear welled up and I wanted nothing more than to kill this creature, that I might be safe. The trees exploded around me and their splinters burned in the starlight flames. My magic collided with the thing and knocked it aside, but it was resilient. Together we felled pines and started a wildfire. Many times I was struck glancing blows, and shed parts of myself as I burned.

Then came an explosion which was not mine, followed by a powerful sound that quaked the forest. I heard something fall, and the blazing winds did not come again. As I fled, I beheld for only the smallest moment another entity in the air, a shimmering spidery creature with many arms, leaving a thin trail of cloud as it soared without wings. And I knew that it was God.

I escaped that place.

My oldest instincts told me not to consume the animals I found, that the balance of the ecosystem may not be destroyed. These instincts I have long since grown strong enough to consciously ignore, and I left them hairless and cold as I began to recover, replenishing my mass with quality fibres. For a while I joined a clowder of other fiberlings, and shared in their own spoils. I saw hunters, also, of the human type.

It has been some time since then, and I stand as tall now as I was when the False Angel came. I can weave myself into the height and shape I prefer, with ears four and clawed digits, on which I wear my ring.

When the humans of these lands see me, I suppose that their initial feelings are of fear, or an equivalent on their emotional spectrum. There could be many reasons for this. They may be able to perceive my magic before it is used, or they may associate me with fiberlings, or my shape and colour is simply foreign enough to warrant caution, or their fear is simply instinctive phobia. I have yet to find out. In any case, I have experimented with the course their fear takes.

In most cases, the humans respond quickly when I make my presence known. They light torches, or swing cutting tools. Often both. Sometimes I am pursued, and the experiment no longer appears fruitful, though I continue for some time anyway. In other circumstances, the humans gradually acclimatise to me- Or simply lose the motivation to give chase.

I have learned several things.

This area is known as Mesathalassa. It is a large region (I have no point of reference to determine how large), the north of which I have been skirting for some time. These hunters wander mostly from a settlement called Susa, pressing far to the north and south and indeed all directions, if their words and my translations are accurate. I am introduced to cartography. Visual representations of the terrain around me for miles, used to plan journeys.

For the first time I am presented with something resembling true choice in my own wanderings.

I have no basis for assuming this information is accurate; The hunters could be feeding me an elaborate lie to keep me away from places of value. Perhaps they are trying to deter me from leaving them, for I am faster and cleverer than any hound, and far better at killing what they track. Even so, I may now have the chance to decide on a destination, rather than move blindly, making my decisions based only on what I can see.

Is it better to travel that way? I will find out.

Tonight I will leave these folk. I intend to travel west, to the shore of the sea. I remember, distantly, what it may be like, for I was created in the maw of an island deity. Soon I will see that watery expanse again. Perhaps it has changed.

I know I have.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

WERE YOUR PRETTY ROCKS WORTH THE INVESTMENT?

@Cyclone

What pretty rocks?

These are my children.