ChronicleMan — Roleplayer Guild

Last Seen: 19 days ago
Joined: 2 yrs ago
Posts: 357 (0.60 / day)
VMs: 3
Username history
1. ChronicleMan 2 yrs ago
Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

29 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

29 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 1X1 fandoms and other storylines fandoms and other ideas → 12 mos ago Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks

im not

<Snipped quote by TokyoPewPew>@Tlaloc

I am.

And i hope wheels is aswell.

In The Black Veil → 12 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

@ChronicleManOkay, I made my character, I hope she works! If not I can change stuff up@Adeline

Accepted but maybe next time post your sheet in the ooc section and then when it's approved you post it in the char section?

In The Black Veil → 12 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Yeppers just make a cs.

This sounds really interesting, would I be able to join??@Adeline

In Post a random fact about yourself. → 12 mos ago Forum: Spam Forum

I have the AB positive blood type which I just found out... which is cool i guess, butttttttttt it also means i have a very high risk of getting a stroke which is indeed bad.

In this or that → 12 mos ago Forum: Spam Forum

Cool-Whip

Cool-whip or Coconut Milk

In The Black Veil → 12 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

roleplayerguild.com/topics/195586-the…

In What Are You Listening To? → 12 mos ago Forum: Off-Topic Discussion

In The Black Veil → 12 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

@hanzo@erikh

The threads up.

In Need someone to delete a extra thread I accidentally made → 12 mos ago Forum: Suggestions/Problems

roleplayerguild.com/topics/195585-the…

Made two by accident.

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>

BBCode Cheatsheet

ChronicleMan Member

The Man The Myth The Legend

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts