ChronicleMan — Roleplayer Guild

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1. ChronicleMan 2 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses

28 days ago

Current I am currently in the midst of making a secret agents rp (basically based off 007: first light except… different)

2 likes

2 mos ago

I haven’t roleplayed since almost a year, since I’ve been busy but I’m gonna hopefully get back into it!

8 likes

2 mos ago

“I'm Sergeant Major Rick Grimes. You probably think I'm dead.” -Rick Grimes

3 likes

4 mos ago

"i SAW what you did there."-Chuck Greene

4 mos ago

"PC load letter? The fuck does that mean"-Michael Bolton

2 likes

Bio

The Black Veil July 15, 1947  B-29 Superfortress near Berlin

The B-29 Superfortress took to the skies just after midnight, a weary beast droning over the darkened outskirts of Berlin. The six-man crew was bone-tired but still sharp enough to know this flight was supposed to be routine — reconnaissance and nothing more. Yet, something was off.

The cockpit lights cast long shadows as Captain Reynolds gripped the controls, squinting through the frost that slowly crept across the windows.

Lieutenant Harper sat nearby, fiddling with the radio, frustration clear in his movements.

"All I’m getting is static... and maybe the ghost of a bad broadcast,"he said dryly.

"You got a ghost problem, Captain?"

Reynolds shot him a look.

"Don’t invite trouble, Harper. This plane’s already creaking like it’s on its last legs."

Sergeant Mills snorted, tapping the compass.

"This compass is spazzing out worse than a rookie on his first flight. Spinning like it’s got worms," he grumbled.

"Worms? You been eating those rations again?" Daniels, the youngest crewmember, cracked a nervous smile.

Mills scowled.

"Kid, if those rations were poison, I wouldn’t still be here."

The frost thickened, veins of ice spiderwebbing across the glass, creeping closer as the heaters struggled against the cold.

"Anyone else feeling like we’re headed straight to the North Pole?" Daniels asked, rubbing his arms.

"Shut it, Daniels. Cold’s better than whatever’s coming," Harper snapped, his eyes fixed on the flickering radio.

Suddenly, the radio hissed and spat static — then faint whispers, low murmurs that sent a chill deeper than the frost ever could.

"Did you hear that?" Daniels whispered.

"Yeah," Mills muttered, "sounds like my mother-in-law complaining about the war."

Reynolds gave a dry chuckle.

"Alright, funny guy. Focus up, we’re almost over the target zone."

The plane shuddered suddenly. Instruments flickered and dimmed.

"Now the compass thinks it’s a roulette wheel," Harper said, fiddling desperately with switches.

Engines sputtered.

"Number three’s coughing up a lung," he reported.

The plane lurched violently.

"Hold her steady!" Reynolds barked, wrestling with the controls.

From the dark hallway behind the cockpit, a faint sound of footsteps echoed — slow and deliberate, but with no one there.

"Who’s there?" Mills demanded, swinging a flashlight down the corridor.

Silence.

"Just your imagination," Reynolds said, though his voice was tight.

"Maybe," Daniels whispered, eyes wide.

Then, with a sickening groan, the cargo bay doors began sliding open.

"Cargo doors? In flight? What the hell?" Reynolds yelled.

"They won’t close," Harper shouted back, panic creeping in.

A blast of icy air swept through the plane, freezing everything it touched.

"Perfect. Just what we needed — a flying haunted house," Mills said dryly.

The radio erupted again, this time with distorted laughter and cries intertwined with static.

Reynolds slammed his fist on the console.

"Cut it off!"

Harper tried, but the controls were frozen.

The plane pitched downward, instruments dying one by one.

"Brace for impact!" Reynolds roared.

Trees rushed up in a blur.

The crash was violent.

Metal twisted, glass shattered.

Silence followed, thick and heavy.

The B-29 lay broken in a cold, silent forest miles from Berlin.

Inside, frost still clung to the wreckage.

The crew — vanished.

And somewhere, carried on the wind, faint laughter echoed.

Most Recent Posts

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

@ChronicleMan@MintRolls@Sanity43217@Silver Carrot

Anybody working on a CS or is this concept a little too out there?@Omega Man

Try my best to get it out tonight!

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

@ChronicleMan I don't really play video games, what did you think I was refrencing? LOL@Omega Man

Ohhh well “Alex Mason” is the main character in the first black ops game and partially the second one. Amazing coincidence 😂

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

Character Name - Alexander 'Alex' Mason
Alias(es) - Silver Bullet
Archetype - Human
Age - 24
Day/Night Job - Park Grounds Keeper
Powers - flight (up to 700+ mph), enhanced strength and durability
Skills - Passed police academy to be a security guard for one year prior to his current job. Formidable hand to hand fighter. Former high school athlete.  
Weaknesses - Standard weaknesses for a guy in light body armor. 
Personality - determined, reckless, vengeful, stoic, broody
Appearance - (see avatar)
BRIEF Bio - 

Alex had a pretty basic upbringing in Darkwater. He grew up hearing stories about dogmen and werewolves but never really believed them. His dad was a former Marine turned cop who then got nominated for Sheriff... and won. Meanwhile Alex played baseball and also joined the wrestling team in high school. A couple years later when a few crime scenes turned into more than what could be considered an animal attack, the metro PD made an arrest. When Alex's father showed up to the metro police station to transport the suspect to county lock-up, the building was ambushed by an entire pack of werewolves. 

After trying to deal with everything that happened, Alex joined the police academy thinking he'd follow in his father's footsteps. He settled on a less stressful security guard job at the Mountain Mall until months later when his friend brought him experimental anti-gravity metal scraps from Wells Helicopter. Finally, Alex had something that could help him get justice for the fourteen people who were killed in that police station along with his dad. After taking a job as a park grounds keeper to have more freedom with his schedule, and for the free place to live and seclusion, Alex fashioned the scraps with some silver to create a helmet and wrist bracers to fly and steer himself while in the air.  
 
Story Arcs - 

Super Naturals: Alex begins recruiting allies for a confrontation with the biggest werewolf pack in Darkwater before a new monster hits the scene. This COULD technically be a Scooby Gang, as Alex has a dog named Slug. (group)

the Lazarus Man: After Bullet rescues a young werewolf from the Lazarus Man in the park, more is revealed about this guy and his reason for being in Darkwater. (team-up)

Deputized: With the merger of the county and metro police departments after the massacre years earlier, Alex's dad's former partner was the new Sheriff. He offers to make Silver Bullet a deputy, then reveals he knows his identity under the helmet. (solo)

Supporting Characters - Slug the Bullet Dog, additional players, unnamed werewolf teen, the new Sheriff Lawrence. 

Additional Notes - Unknown to Alex, the metal in his helmet and suit gives off a sort of electro-magnetic field that propels him through the air and mimics enhanced strength and durability.
@Omega Man

Love the black ops reference 

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

Be free to do a CS next week! Bit occupied with work.

Probably gonna do a dean Winchester type thing mixed with like one power.

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

@Omega Man quick question: I’m guessing everyone in universe knows about the supernatural? Or do they not?

In Ban the User Above You → 2 mos ago Forum: Spam Forum

Banned for birb.

In What Are You Listening To? → 2 mos ago Forum: Off-Topic Discussion

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

I'm hoping for a big cast honestly. Even if one player wants to control a whole knock off Scooby Gang or Cryptid Podcaster group I'd probably allow it. I'm not getting my hopes up but I am most definitely crossing my fingers.@Omega Man

I’m probably gonna just do one character (likely human…maybe) just to ease back into writing 👌. Also may I ask what kind of art style we can use? Just any or?

In Darkwater City Limits → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

I havent been active on here in a while but this has REALLY piqued my interest.

In Ban the User Above You → 4 mos ago Forum: Spam Forum

Banned because you clearly got a hold of some of Chris's steroids. 

[hider=writing sample][h1][color=Maroon]The Black Veil July 15, 1947 B-29 Superfortress near Berlin[/color][/h1] [b]The B-29 Superfortress took to the skies just after midnight, a weary beast droning over the darkened outskirts of Berlin. The six-man crew was bone-tired but still sharp enough to know this flight was supposed to be routine — reconnaissance and nothing more. Yet, something was off.[/b] The cockpit lights cast long shadows as Captain Reynolds gripped the controls, squinting through the frost that slowly crept across the windows. Lieutenant Harper sat nearby, fiddling with the radio, frustration clear in his movements. [b][color=darkRed][quote]"All I’m getting is static... and maybe the ghost of a bad broadcast,"[/quote][/color][/b]he said dryly. [color=darkRed][b]"You got a ghost problem, Captain?"[/b][/color] Reynolds shot him a look. [i]"Don’t invite trouble, Harper. This plane’s already creaking like it’s on its last legs."[/i] Sergeant Mills snorted, tapping the compass. [color=darkred][b]"This compass is spazzing out worse than a rookie on his first flight. Spinning like it’s got worms,"[/b][/color] he grumbled. [color=darkred][i]"Worms? You been eating those rations again?"[/i][/color] Daniels, the youngest crewmember, cracked a nervous smile. Mills scowled. [i]"Kid, if those rations were poison, I wouldn’t still be here."[/i] The frost thickened, veins of ice spiderwebbing across the glass, creeping closer as the heaters struggled against the cold. [color=darkred][quote]"Anyone else feeling like we’re headed straight to the North Pole?"[/quote][/color] Daniels asked, rubbing his arms. [color=darkred][i]"Shut it, Daniels. Cold’s better than whatever’s coming,"[/i][/color] Harper snapped, his eyes fixed on the flickering radio. Suddenly, the radio hissed and spat static — then faint whispers, low murmurs that sent a chill deeper than the frost ever could. [color=darkred][b]"Did you hear that?"[/b][/color] Daniels whispered. [i]"Yeah,"[/i] Mills muttered, [i]"sounds like my mother-in-law complaining about the war."[/i] Reynolds gave a dry chuckle. [i]"Alright, funny guy. Focus up, we’re almost over the target zone."[/i] The plane shuddered suddenly. Instruments flickered and dimmed. [color=darkRed][b]"Now the compass thinks it’s a roulette wheel,"[/b][/color] Harper said, fiddling desperately with switches. Engines sputtered. [color=darkred][i]"Number three’s coughing up a lung,"[/i][/color] he reported. The plane lurched violently. [i]"Hold her steady!"[/i] Reynolds barked, wrestling with the controls. From the dark hallway behind the cockpit, a faint sound of footsteps echoed — slow and deliberate, but with no one there. [color=darkred][b]"Who’s there?"[/b][/color] Mills demanded, swinging a flashlight down the corridor. Silence. [i]"Just your imagination,"[/i] Reynolds said, though his voice was tight. [i]"Maybe,"[/i] Daniels whispered, eyes wide. Then, with a sickening groan, the cargo bay doors began sliding open. [color=darkred][b]"Cargo doors? In flight? What the hell?"[/b][/color] Reynolds yelled. [color=darkred][i]"They won’t close,"[/i][/color] Harper shouted back, panic creeping in. A blast of icy air swept through the plane, freezing everything it touched. [color=darkred][quote]"Perfect. Just what we needed — a flying haunted house,"[/quote][/color] Mills said dryly. The radio erupted again, this time with distorted laughter and cries intertwined with static. Reynolds slammed his fist on the console. [i]"Cut it off!"[/i] Harper tried, but the controls were frozen. The plane pitched downward, instruments dying one by one. [i]"Brace for impact!"[/i] Reynolds roared. Trees rushed up in a blur. The crash was violent. Metal twisted, glass shattered. Silence followed, thick and heavy. The B-29 lay broken in a cold, silent forest miles from Berlin. Inside, frost still clung to the wreckage. The crew — vanished. And somewhere, carried on the wind, faint laughter echoed. [/hider]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"> <div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="writing sample">writing sample [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><div class="bb-h1">The Black Veil July 15, 1947 B-29 Superfortress near Berlin</div> The B-29 Superfortress took to the skies just after midnight, a weary beast droning over the darkened outskirts of Berlin. The six-man crew was bone-tired but still sharp enough to know this flight was supposed to be routine — reconnaissance and nothing more. Yet, something was off. The cockpit lights cast long shadows as Captain Reynolds gripped the controls, squinting through the frost that slowly crept across the windows. Lieutenant Harper sat nearby, fiddling with the radio, frustration clear in his movements. <blockquote class="bb-quote">"All I’m getting is static... and maybe the ghost of a bad broadcast,"</blockquote>he said dryly. "You got a ghost problem, Captain?" Reynolds shot him a look. "Don’t invite trouble, Harper. This plane’s already creaking like it’s on its last legs." Sergeant Mills snorted, tapping the compass. "This compass is spazzing out worse than a rookie on his first flight. Spinning like it’s got worms," he grumbled. "Worms? You been eating those rations again?" Daniels, the youngest crewmember, cracked a nervous smile. Mills scowled. "Kid, if those rations were poison, I wouldn’t still be here." The frost thickened, veins of ice spiderwebbing across the glass, creeping closer as the heaters struggled against the cold. <blockquote class="bb-quote">"Anyone else feeling like we’re headed straight to the North Pole?"</blockquote> Daniels asked, rubbing his arms. "Shut it, Daniels. Cold’s better than whatever’s coming," Harper snapped, his eyes fixed on the flickering radio. Suddenly, the radio hissed and spat static — then faint whispers, low murmurs that sent a chill deeper than the frost ever could. "Did you hear that?" Daniels whispered. "Yeah," Mills muttered, "sounds like my mother-in-law complaining about the war." Reynolds gave a dry chuckle. "Alright, funny guy. Focus up, we’re almost over the target zone." The plane shuddered suddenly. Instruments flickered and dimmed. "Now the compass thinks it’s a roulette wheel," Harper said, fiddling desperately with switches. Engines sputtered. "Number three’s coughing up a lung," he reported. The plane lurched violently. "Hold her steady!" Reynolds barked, wrestling with the controls. From the dark hallway behind the cockpit, a faint sound of footsteps echoed — slow and deliberate, but with no one there. "Who’s there?" Mills demanded, swinging a flashlight down the corridor. Silence. "Just your imagination," Reynolds said, though his voice was tight. "Maybe," Daniels whispered, eyes wide. Then, with a sickening groan, the cargo bay doors began sliding open. "Cargo doors? In flight? What the hell?" Reynolds yelled. "They won’t close," Harper shouted back, panic creeping in. A blast of icy air swept through the plane, freezing everything it touched. <blockquote class="bb-quote">"Perfect. Just what we needed — a flying haunted house,"</blockquote> Mills said dryly. The radio erupted again, this time with distorted laughter and cries intertwined with static. Reynolds slammed his fist on the console. "Cut it off!" Harper tried, but the controls were frozen. The plane pitched downward, instruments dying one by one. "Brace for impact!" Reynolds roared. Trees rushed up in a blur. The crash was violent. Metal twisted, glass shattered. Silence followed, thick and heavy. The B-29 lay broken in a cold, silent forest miles from Berlin. Inside, frost still clung to the wreckage. The crew — vanished. And somewhere, carried on the wind, faint laughter echoed.</div></div> </div>

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ChronicleMan Member

The Man The Myth The Legend

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