ChronicleMan — Roleplayer Guild

Last Seen: 20 days ago
Joined: 2 yrs ago
Posts: 357 (0.60 / day)
VMs: 3
Username history
1. ChronicleMan 2 yrs ago
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30 days ago

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

8 likes

30 days ago

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

3 likes

3 mos ago

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

3 mos ago

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

2 likes

4 mos ago

I now own a musket since that's what the founding fathers intended.

3 likes

Bio

Name:Matt 
Gender:Dude
Age:30
Birthday: October 17th 1995
Alias: MP, Chronic,
Occupation:Police officer
What i like: Comedy, Horror, Drama, Sci-fi, Cosplay, Gaming,
What i dislike: 1x1s, Retconning, Pedophiles.

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 Post-Apoc Society or Sci-Fi Space Rescue Crew → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

I suppose i'll be trying out for the captain then.

In The Dead Don't Die. → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Mason O'connor


Character Quote:  "I'm not saying it'll be easy. Just that we can survive it. We have to."

Character Summary

Name: Mason O’Connor
Aliases:none
Age:27
Birthday:October 12th
Ethnicity:American
Birth Place: Brooklyn, New York.
Gender: Male
Pre Outbreak Occupation:Police Officer (NYPD) 
Languages: English

Appearance

Height: 5'11" 
Weight:174
Body Type:Athletic, Lean
Eye Color:Grayish Blue
Hair Color:Light Brown
Skin Tone:Fair
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:None
Personal Style: Mason favors practicality over fashion these days, but even before things went south he preferred a low-key look. He leans towards durable clothing: dark jeans, sturdy work boots, and plain t-shirts. He owns a few flannel shirts that he layers during colder months. His light brown hair is kept short and neat, more out of necessity than style. He has a naturally clean-cut look, even when unshaven for days.

Psychology

Resilient * Cynical * Empathetic * Wary * Intelligent * Stubborn


Sexuality:Heterosexual
Relationship Status:Single (Widower)
Personality: Mason is a study in contrasts, shaped by his experiences on the force and the trauma of the outbreak. He's naturally empathetic and driven to protect others, a trait that drew him to law enforcement. However, witnessing the worst of humanity as a cop and then the collapse of society has instilled a deep-seated cynicism. He is intelligent and quick to assess threat level, but he struggles with the burden of responsibility. He's fiercely loyal to those he trusts, but wary of newcomers, always looking for an angle or a potential betrayal. He's also incredibly stubborn, a trait that can be both a strength, allowing him to persevere through impossible situations, and a weakness, making him reluctant to back down even when it's strategically sound. The loss of his wife has left him with deep emotional scars that he tries to repress, often burying his grief under a veneer of stoicism and action.
Character Alignment:  Chaotic Good 
Habits:  Chewing on his fingernails when stressed, constantly checking his surroundings, fiddling with his Zippo lighter.
Hobbies: Used to enjoy boxing and working on his '67 Mustang (now abandoned).
Fears:
 Failing to protect those he cares about.
Losing his sanity.
The thought that there is no hope for humanity.
Likes:
 Quiet moments
A good cup of coffee (rare these days)
Honesty
Helping others
Order
The feeling of accomplishment after a hard day
Dislikes:
Injustice
Cruelty
Weakness
Being lied to
The infected
Despair


Skills

Pre Outbreak Skills:


[] Hand-to-hand Combat [] Firearms Proficiency [] Investigation & Interrogation [] Tactical Driving
First Aid/CPR


Post Outbreak Skills: none


What Do They Carry On Them: Clothing - Dark jeans, worn leather boots, grey t-shirt, brown flannel, and a worn baseball cap. Brown Wallet - Driver's license, expired NYPD ID, $47 in US currency, a folded photograph of his late wife, Sarah. Glock 19 (9mm) with two extra magazines. Zippo lighter and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. painkillers.

History


Life Before The Outbreak Mason grew up in a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn, raised by his single mother after his father died when he was young. He was a bright kid, good at school, but he also had a strong sense of justice. He saw firsthand the struggles of his community, the petty crimes, the poverty, and the lack of opportunity. This fueled his desire to become a police officer, not for the power, but to make a difference.

He excelled at the police academy and quickly rose through the ranks. He was a dedicated and effective officer, respected by his colleagues and feared by the criminals he apprehended. It was during this time that he met Sarah, a nurse who worked at the local hospital. They fell in love quickly and married within a year. Life was good. He was making a difference, he had built strong friendship on the force and he had found someone to love.

But the job took its toll. He witnessed horrific things, things that haunted his dreams. The corruption within the department disillusioned him. He began to question the system he was sworn to protect. He started to become withdrawn, irritable, and Sarah tried to help him through the dark times and eventually it was Sarah that opened his eyes to the corruption. In his last case he was going to expose the corruption which put him and his wife in danger. He was suspended from the force when he refused to play ball and decided to leave quietly rather than jeopardize her safety.

Survivor's Personal Journal:N/A 

Additional Information


Theme Song:



Extra Information:I’ve read twd comics and watched the Twd show and dawn of the dead and basically everything you can think of that’s zombie related.

I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

In Oh, someone new! Wait... It's me! → 1 yr ago Forum: Introduce Yourself

Welcome and i think casual would be the right fit for you if you can only write a few Para's.

In Post-Apoc Society or Sci-Fi Space Rescue Crew → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

I vote beacon.

In Stellar Horizon: The Echo Protocol → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Here it is folks!

@ErosSense@Queen Arya@LC@Theyra

You can place sheets in the character tab and then expect a PM from me.

@ChronicleMan@Skwint

If you're still with us, continue taking your time with your CS. If you have any questions I'm here.@Expllo

Sorry been a bit busy, it should be done next week.

In Welcome to Havenwood → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

@Mole Nah you don't have to leave it's fine.

In Welcome to Havenwood → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

I have to say I did get a slight creep factor from your post Mole. Though in the back of my head I think I’ve been ruined from certain hub related sites.

Get out of my room step-sis@Tally Dor

bruh. and yeah it also gave me that vibe aswell.@Mole

In Welcome to Havenwood → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

@ChronicleMan, on it.

Edit: Cringe has been around for centuries, just for the linguistic record.@Mole

Yes but as far as i know practically no one used the word in the early to late 2000s and early 2010s, it just got Popular a few years back, therefore not realistic in this time Period.

In Welcome to Havenwood → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

@Mole this is 2004 Tiktok Is non existent and the word cringe doesn't exist yet and phones are blocky, Change your post.

In I have returned → 1 yr ago Forum: Introduce Yourself

Welcome back

Name:Matt Gender:Dude Age:30 Birthday: October 17th 1995 Alias: MP, Chronic, Occupation:Police officer What i like: Comedy, Horror, Drama, Sci-fi, Cosplay, Gaming, What i dislike: 1x1s, Retconning, Pedophiles. [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;">Name:Matt Gender:Dude Age:30 Birthday: October 17th 1995 Alias: MP, Chronic, Occupation:Police officer What i like: Comedy, Horror, Drama, Sci-fi, Cosplay, Gaming, What i dislike: 1x1s, Retconning, Pedophiles. <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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