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15 days ago
Current The design of RPG’s status bar is the most ill-conceived forum feature I have ever witnessed. If you want an IRC, make an actual IRC.
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3 mos ago
Gong Xi Fa Cai! Happy Year of the Ox, Guild!
5 mos ago
New post is out. Vote now! roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
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5 mos ago
That's it. I'm cancelling all my RPs Rapid Reader, until you GM a RP for me.
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5 mos ago
Votes for my quest are closing in 8 hours! roleplayerguild.com/topics/…

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ROLEPLAY BUCKET LIST
- Walmart Apocalypse Roleplay
- Nightmare Gas Station
- Underrail/Fallout/Post Apocalyptic Roleplay. Codename: Clausterclysm
- Anthromorphic Grimdark Animal Fantasy Roleplay. Codename: Fallowbrook.
- Eldritch Abomination Garfield Roleplay. Codename: Lasagna.
- Infinite IKEA Roleplay. Codename: God Morgon
- Cooking High Fantasy RP. Codename: Smorgasbord.
- Roleplayerguild High School RP. Codename: Highschool Roleplay
- Cyberpunk South East Asia RP. Codename: Straits of Malacca. [CURRENTLY HAPPENING]

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<Snipped quote by Penny>

Instant nope.




If a person has anything by Jordan Peterson on their bookshelf.




I should have thought of that one.
Ready Player One or Ready Player Two.

Alternatively, The Turner Diaries and I really don't need to explain why.
The Elder Scrolls: Stormcrown Interregnum




The year is 4E15. In the early days of the Fourth Era, in the wake of Martin Septim’s heroic sacrifice to end the Oblivion Crisis, the Empire is in turmoil. The line of Talos has been broken and their reign has ended. Potentate Ocato has been assassinated by the Dark Brotherhood and the witch-warrior Thules the Gibbering, a madman unloved by the people, sits on the Ruby Throne. Morrowind has been ravaged by the Red Year, Black Marsh has seceded, and unrest is brewing in the Summerset Isles. The Legions are spread thin. Local rulers and warlords all over Tamriel, even in the Cyrodiilic Heartland, are establishing de facto independent city-states and territories. It is a time of war, of political intrigue, of coup d’etats and power changing hands.

In Cyrodiil, only the Imperial City is still firmly under the control of the Emperor and the Elder Council, fractured though it may be. Some of the rulers of the other cities and counties have seized control for themselves -- others have been overthrown, and their erstwhile territory is now ruled only by the right of the strong. The peasantry suffers. Mercenaries, arms dealers and assassins are making a killing. Bandits prowl the roads and the woods, and bands of deserted Legionnaires take what they want. The people cry out for heroes to stand up against cruelty and tyranny, but who will answer the call?






In all this chaos, a warrior-woman and a minotaur have escaped from the dungeons beneath Thules the Gibbering’s ghastly Arena; a place of bloodshed and death, where prisoners, slaves and beasts are forced to fight and kill for the cackling Emperor’s entertainment. Their wild flight has taken them from the Imperial City to the forests outside of Skingrad, where they had to fight against highwaymen and roving packs of wolves for survival. The local farmers and hunters were afraid of them at first, but the woman and her monstrous protector meant them no harm. Over time, they became local heroes for the resistance they showed to the corrupt and self-serving Count of Skingrad and his enforcers, who relentlessly ‘taxed’ the peasants for everything they had.
Besides, an escaped slave-girl and her man-bull companion… where had people heard that before?

Others joined them in their cause, and soon a resistance had formed. One by one, the warrior-woman, the minotaur and their ragtag crew of freedom fighters took down the Count’s lieutenants and freed the countryside surrounding Skingrad from his control. Now, allied with a citizen’s militia inspired by their actions, they gather round the fire on the eve of their final assault on the Count’s castle, the Emperor blind to the world in his White-Gold Tower, while another power gathers strength in the West...




Hello and welcome to The Elder Scrolls: Stormcrown Interregnum. In this RP, we will be playing the inner circle of the escaped slave and warrior-woman Isobel Aurelia, an incorrigible optimist with lofty dreams of a better future for the common people, as she takes the fight to the petty kings and warlords who have seized power in the Empire’s weakened state after the Oblivion Crisis. Beware that this RP takes place well before the events of Skyrim -- there is no Aldmeri Dominion, no Stormcloak Rebellion and certainly no dragons. This is a period of Tamriel’s history that has remained mostly undescribed, save for the Greg Keyes novels (which I haven’t read and have no real interest in), so we will be charting our own course and seeing where the story takes us!




This will be an RP about guerilla warfare, political intrigue, spycraft and power struggles, inspired by movies like Sicario, narratives like Game of Thrones (not S7 and S8) and real-world conflicts like the Nicaraguan Revolution and the Arab Spring.




I AM CYRODIIL COME




I am sad this is not what I thought it would be.
Drats.
Platypuses pretty much have the most versatile power set out of any animal. They're basically a combination of Aquaman, Yoshi, Daredevil and the Scorpion in one cuddly package.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
T H E P L A T Y P U S




E R W I N P E R R I E R E M A L E 2 0 B R I S B A N E , Q U E E N S L A N D
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

" Oi, stop gapin' at me like a drongo, mate. You believe a Yank can fly, yet, you have a hard time with my bod?"

Born a wee lad in the heart of Brisbane, Erwin Perriere, in spite of his diagnosis of cystic fibrosis, wasn't going to let a little something like an uncurable ailment stop him from achieving his dreams. Graduating from Melbourne University with a double-major in Zoology and Genetics at the remarkably young age of 17 with the support of his parents and step-brother, Mark, he took an interest in the research papers of Grace Balin, a disgraced academic from the now defunct Gotham Academy, and her conjectures on cross-species therapy. With his condition growing more terminal everyday, Erwin used Grace's research as the basis of his Honours project, seeking to perfect the process to make a gene therapy formula which could cure a wide range of chronic diseases from Huntington's, Alzheimers, sickle-celled anemia and more.

In his research process, Erwin grew desperate and used one of the formulas he had derived in the lab on himself. Now, I know what you might be thinking. It's the classic backstory for a mad scientist to use a prototype formula on himself without approval from the Australia Food and Drug administration which didn't receive a double-blind test. His initial reaction was pain, unbelievable agony, the type that made you want to die and wish your heart would stop beating. When he woke up, he realised four things.

One. His Cystic Fibrosis was gone.

Two. He needed to stop using Sharpies to label his test tubes because they smudged so much.

Three. He ingested the platypus formula instead of the axtotl formula.

Four. He was a six-foot tall bipedal platypus.

Inevitably realizing that the university would take action against him for recklessly experimenting on himself and that the government would inquire about how he managed to create such a formula, Erwin, in a display of not very capitalistic scientific ethics, torched down his lab and escaped into the wilds of the Australian Outback with only a tattered labcoat on his back. For weeks, he laid low, accepting the dietary needs of his new physiology and hiding in the swamps of Queensland, as authorities searched for any signs of his body, the news reporting about hysteric witnesses who reported 'a man in a platypus costume' who had ran down the parking lot of Melbourne University Biological Sciences Building.

It was in the muck and grime of the wetlands that Erwin discovered the budding seed of vigilantism within him when he noticed a group of poachers in the night surrounding a family of bettong. Whilst not initially wanting to get involved at first, Erwin's heart begrudgingly won out as he scared the pack of poachers off whilst reporting the bettong to the authorities. As he made his way back to his house, strangers and locals would whisper of a man-sized platypus who would stop robbers, tell off pickpocketers, escort kangaroos across busy streets and even help prevent rowdy beachgoers from drowning because they thought they had enough balls to stand in a riptide.

After six months of travel followed by periodic bouts of vigilantism, he finally made his way back to his family. Erwin was shocked to discover that they didn't reject him for his monstrous appearance (In hindsight, how would a platypus be terrifying?). However, after some discussion, his parents, his step-brother and Erwin decided that it would be exceptionally hard to keep a man-sized platypus thing at home and that with prejudice against metahumans and all things that didn't contain 100% human DNA rising in the national public conciousness of Australia, that it would be probably better for him to seek help with his condition.

Thus, Erwin set off on a journey to America, eventually encountering Morgan Edge, who offered him the possibility of a cure in exchange for joining a team of unknown individuals.....

A B I L I T I E S:
Thanks to the combination of an inert meta-gene along with the experimental cross-gene plasmid transduction formula, Erwin has been bestowed with a physiology superior to that of most human beings along with the proportional traits and abilities of the monotreme species, Ornithorhynchus anatinus, otherwise commonly known as the platypus. Deadlifting five tonnes, a constitution capable of weathering low-calibre bullet fire and stamina to survive 10 sprints around Uluru without losing a breath are just some of the miracles that the lab incident bestowed upon him. His semi-aquatic mammalian features such as his tail and webbed feet also him to manuever gracefully through water like an hairy duck-billed mermaid, upwards at speeds of up to 100 km/h. His glossy coat of fur is also useful in a pinch for surviving flames as well as keeping himself toasty in freezing temperatures.

Other than the usual package of brute strength and durability, Erwin's cuddly platypus visage isn't just for show, as, several centuries of evolutionary history have been hyper-accelerated by the formula into an assortment of useful powers, the most prominent being Erwin's powers of electroreception. With this, Erwin is able to track, differentiate and detect the unique bio-electric aura of any organic being or machinery that is able to emit one for miles. Whether it's behind fog, walls or in a bunker, Erwin will be able to find it with pinpoint accuracy. However, emission of electromagnetic pulses or high-density electromagnetic waves over a long period of time will short-circuit his abilities. This makes up for his low-light vision, which while excellent in the dark and in aquatic enviroments, is horribly bad in conditions with high quantities of light which are blinding to him. Thus, Erwin usually wears a large pair of shades.

Erwin's least used power is the lethal venom that he produces on a daily basis into glands stored in his elbows. The venom in his glands is considered by him to be a weapon of last resort. Stored in his elbows, this toxic corrosive substance is strong enough to cause debilitating pain to anyone it comes into contact with and cause death if not treated immediately.

He can also lay eggs.

Don't mention that fact to him.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
Erwin necessarily doesn't want to be a hero but he's finding that he doesn't necessarily hate it either. Erwin's desire to do good stems his drive to use scientific knowledge for the benefit of humanity and his experiences travelling alongside the outlying territories and boonies of Queensland. In spite of his excuse that heroism is a distraction for his quest to find a cure, Erwin spirit of selflessness and need to do right shines through, even when he complains about it.

Erwin uses the unimaginable power and diversity of an Australian's capacity to swear alongside his cocksure persona to hide his insecurity and doubt about his seemingly inhuman nature. Sure, a platypus ain't scary as a crocodile or an orca but the chance of any real integration or interaction with normal society went out the boat the moment he took the formula. Whilst Erwin's main goal above all is to find a cure for his condition, his desire to do good and find justice tangles with his seemingly self-centered goal. Thus, it's developed into a conundrum that threatens to tear himself in two.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
-


R E L A T I O N S H I P S:
To be perfectly honest, it's a mixture of King, Orwell and Child that influenced my writing.

Orwell was partly an overall meta-influence in terms of how I wrote and the strictures in which my writing held to. I still maintain Politics and the English Language (1946), whilst overall being more relevant for essays rather than narrative prose, helped me immensely with peeling away the seemingly challenging nature of writing and delving deep into its guts.

King is the major influence in terms of how I set up atmosphere. It's that unrefined style combined with haunting, visceral imagery that I try and put into what I write. It's also the weird surreal situations he sets up combined with the in-laid horror that I unconsciously replicate in my prose whenever I have the chance.

Child's penchant for writing out the rhythm of action held true when I began roleplaying and still holds true today. In spite of his failures, he's got a real good way of getting the grit of fisticuffs or a old fashioned melee down that doesn't feel metronomic like other writers.



A Dystopian Satirical Capitalism Nightmare Simulator



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Day 2048 305,896 Does It Even Matter? 1

I'm on my last crayon. We ran out of our supply of Kraft Mac N Cheese a few days ago. ArtLine has decided that we should start rationing all our edibles, which includes my box of crayons. I managed to bargain with him to keep more but he would only let me keep one. Everything else is going into what that Greengrocer calls a 'gluten-free recycled stew'. The smell almost makes me want to barf.

It has been several shopping trips since we were forced to flee the Books Department. Although I don't want to admit it, it is likely that I am one of the last Archivists left remaining.

Nevertheless, it is my duty as a disciple of Dewey and an Archivist to record down history for the next generations of future aislers and lifters to use on their own trips.






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