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6 yrs ago
Sometimes I don’t feel like writing but then I look at the rest of these forums and realize they’re dead af so I can’t be dead af either
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6 yrs ago
I am tired and very stressed - I will probably not be able to push out any replies for some time.
6 yrs ago
Will be away for three days - near to absolutely no internet. I'm afraid.
1 like
7 yrs ago
I swear to God all the icons on the page turned into emojis for a moment...
7 yrs ago
I think I’m starting to be known on the guild as the guy who expresses interest in RPs but never joins
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Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


– William Blake


Great Britain, July 1940. The lone British war machine is reeling from the military disaster of Dunkirk, where only 20,000 troops of the British Expeditionary Force escaped from France and the rest dead or taken prisoner by the advancing Wehrmacht. Now, the German Luftwaffe prepares to launch a crushing air superiority campaign across the English Channel, with British factories, seaports, and civilian centers all newly designated targets of Operation Sealion. With the great empires of the United States and the Soviet Union infuriatingly neutral, the United Kingdom braces for a final death struggle against the Nazi menace.

But how could it have come to this? How could have hope dissipated so quickly?

As far as you are concerned, you will never know. The 20,000 survivors of Dunkirk and their rescuers in the various branches of the Royal Armed Forces have been prevented from contacting their families and forced to remain on their respective bases. New recruits to the Royal Army, Navy, or Air Force, for now, have been directed to other bases of operation.

You are a newly minted aircraftman in the British Royal Air Force. The first thing you are greeted by as you arrive on your first base of duty is an empty airfield and around five to seven other fresh recruits just as confused as you are. However, you have certainly heard rumors about what transpired in the last few months in France - that the Germans have developed a secret weapon that made our men literally lose their minds, that the dead in Dunkirk were slain not by the Wehrmacht but by their fellow soldiers, that the survivors on base have been indefinitely confined to mental institutions, robbed of their sanity, their rationality, and their hope.

But, of course, those are just rumors. High Command will release pertinent information when it can.

Meanwhile, you are one of the lucky few aircraftmen in the RAF who have been assigned to Turin Squadron, a special detachment of the Royal Air Force that, for all intents and purposes, does not exist. You have been especially chosen for your supposed 'fortitude of mind', whatever that means. The only thing you have been told at the briefing is that you will play a special part in the defense of the British Isles against the Luftwaffe assault. As far as anyone else in the force is concerned, you are part of other, officially recognized squadrons. You are not told of the exact nature of your missions, only that your first will start in forty-eight hours.

You attempt to sleep peacefully after the briefing, pushing out of your conscience the nagging feeling that you have absolutely no idea what you have gotten yourself into.





Hi! This is Thy Fearful Symmetry, a WWII Battle of Britain RP focused on the exploits of Turin Squadron as they assist the greater Royal Air Force in the fight against Nazi Germany - and their otherworldly patrons. The Nazis have gained control of - or made an alliance with - some alien entity that drives men to madness and bestial irrationality. Whether it's shooting down Stukas armed with 'mad gas bombs', raiding secret Nazi facilities in continental Europe, or machine-gunning underwater eldritch horrors in the North Sea, this RP is going to have it all. Above all, the Battle of Britain, in sharp contrast to the hopelessness of Lovecraft's universe, was a symbol of humanity's perseverance to save itself even in the face of certain doom. The elements of hope, survival, and man's place in the universe will play a strong part in the story.

I'm only looking for a small-to-medium-ish group, maybe four to five players at the very most. Anyone interested?
Is there a specific year this is set in? The American Civil War could have been important in this setting.
When you say a world very similar to ours, do you mean another modern earth-like planet? Is this why Christmas is in November? Just asking because I may make a character that is not American.
Incredible idea, but I think it should take place on Discord.
@Peridot Hi, I'm interested, but I'm a little confused about foreign characters. The Quill of Acceptance only records the names of magical children born in Britain, and Hogwarts only accepts those whose names are written down by the Quill of Acceptance. How come some accepted characters weren't born in the UK?
@Letter Bee Whoops, crossed my mind. Retconned that in my post.
First post up. It's not that great, but at least the ball is rolling. Please tell me if there are any continuity errors I need to correct.
June 4th, 1960

Krung Thep, People's Republic of Thailand


---

It was not a usual custom of Grand Premier Thornthep Radchawat to attend Buddhist ceremonies, let alone funerals. He had eschewed religion at age fifteen, and his beliefs were validated by his fellow Khana Rhatsadon at age eighteen. He saw no use in contemplating the afterlife when a man could do good in his lifetime now. However, it was the dying wish of his dear beloved aunt that she be honored with such formalities, and somehow he found comfort in the dulling chants of the fervent monk, and in the lilting scent of the incense that permeated the room.

They drove back to the Revolutionary Palace in a thoughtful silence. Radchawat’s wife, who was a dear friend of his aunt, laid her head on his shoulder and grasped his arms tightly with white satin gloves. For a while, Radchawat contemplated his brief memories with his aunt, but by the time the driver pulled up to the gates of the Palace had already taken on a much more different state of mind.

An eager young soldier ran up to the couple, dressed in a drab olive uniform and with a submachine gun swinging from his hips.

“Grand Premier!”

“Please, comrade.” Radchawat slowly looked up. “Can’t you see we are mourning?”

The young man gulped and adjusted his red-badged collar.

“Premier, the Minister of War wishes to see you.”

Radchawat met Minister of War Thanee Souvanatong at his private office. The hulking wall of a man was clad with a multitude of medals such that made his chest indistinguishable from a Christmas tree, all earned from the 1921 revolution and the 1949 Cambodian War. He was upright and red-faced as always, his greying mustache sprinkled with cigarette ash.

“Premier, it is time we talked.”

“So it is.” Radchawat leant back on his tall leather chair and crossed his arms.

“Lady Trung has been betrayed by imperialists.”

“So she has.”

“This is not new news, Premier.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Premier, do you understand the gravity of the situation?!” Souvanatong slammed Radchawat’s desk, blood rushing to his head and staining his mottled cheeks. “If we allow this to continue, we will have a capitalist Vietnam for a neighbor!”

“That is what we said eleven years ago, when we invaded Cambodia.”

“Cambodia was a success!”

“Do you call the loss of eight hundred soldiers, two thousand Cambodian civilians, and millions of baht a success? Thailand is weary of war, Minister. Our people must rest, and our nation must take a different path now.”

Radchawat tilted his head. “Or would you have us tread the path of our colonizers before?”

“Premier, premier…” Souvanatong huffed and blustered, inflating his cheeks to a fiery crimson. “You don’t understand how easy this war will be. China, owner of one of the greatest armies in the world, supplies our arms. The Philippines is already a major player in the game. Iron and chromium deals are mere days away!”

But then in a sudden and stunning show of humility, the Minister stood up straight, pressed his palms together and bowed deeply. Radchawat raised a brow - it was unusual for this blustering mountain of a man, and a devoted communist at that, to make the traditional wai.

“Premier, please let me send a delegation to Hanoi.”

Radchawat sighed.

“Yes, you may.” He shrugged. “Though there has not yet been an official decision, I sense the intentions of the People’s Congress. There is nothing I can do about it.”

Radchawat finally stood up, a dusty creak emanating from underneath his seat. “Don’t seek sea passage, you will either be shot at by Sulu pirates or the French. Take a plane, and travel northwards first - I don't think we need to intrude onto Laotian airspace."

The Premier bowed deeply, returning the wai. “Thank you, Thanee.”

“Thank you, Premier.”

As Minister Souvanatong turned to exit, Thanee called out to him. “Minister?”

“Yes, Premier?”

“You get Thailand concessions, or you get that delegation home.”

I think one of the GMs needs to take the role of the UK; people are scared of the commitment lmao
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