User Name: Nightrunner
Join Date: October 2012? (OldGuild); January 2014 (NuGuild)
RP interests/Genres/Categories: I enjoy the superhero genre, some Sci-Fi, a bit of Fantasy, and some solid character development in any genre. I mostly play in group RPs.
Active Roleplays:
None
Other Information: I am a Fifteen Year old, Freshman, Comic reader. I enjoy manual labor, making money, punk rock, dubstep, playing games, and eating. I stay fairly active physically and mentally. And I have an IQ of 146.
Enarr
Member
STATUS:
I'm tempted to say "I've lost better friends than you" to a lote of people lately. I'm not sure what I ever want to say to the better friends that I've lost, though.
9 mos ago
- Last Seen: 1 day ago
- Old Guild Username: nightrunner
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1782 (0.39 / day)
- VMs: 22
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Username history
- Enarr 6 yrs ago
- ████████████ 6 yrs ago
- ███████████ 12 yrs ago
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Status
Recent Statuses
9 mos ago
Current
I'm tempted to say "I've lost better friends than you" to a lote of people lately. I'm not sure what I ever want to say to the better friends that I've lost, though.
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Bio
Twelve years ago, I said something on this website that continues to embarrassing me to this day. I was a stupid kid, like most, but I've never quite gotten the taste out of my mouth. Anyone who knew me at the time can tell you about it.
I love this website. I'm pretty sure my phylactery is stored wherever the webserver is and a significant chunk of me will just disappear when it ceases operation. Until then, it comforts me. I should go to the hardware store and paint my bedroom walls with the same soft, brownish grey that the background color has been for the last twelve years. Some of my friends can't wait for the site to go offline but I don't know of any other places that offer the same sense of community.
I'm an omni-gamer. I like board games, tabletop roleplaying games, admire tabletop war games, suck at riddles, and have an absurd library of video games. Survival horror is basically my favorite genre. Otherwise I'm a fan of esoteric, occult bullshit and punk rock. But disco's cool. Disco is what humanity sounds like when it chooses to be happy. Between you and I, I'd like to hope that the days of my life can sparkle like a disco ball, accreting like sparks from a grinder held up against the unwavering dark of deaths own shadow. Burn baby burn.
You and I, we're gonna die. We should be friends first, though. Write some checks we can't cash and make eachother smile. Make believe for a while.
I love this website. I'm pretty sure my phylactery is stored wherever the webserver is and a significant chunk of me will just disappear when it ceases operation. Until then, it comforts me. I should go to the hardware store and paint my bedroom walls with the same soft, brownish grey that the background color has been for the last twelve years. Some of my friends can't wait for the site to go offline but I don't know of any other places that offer the same sense of community.
I'm an omni-gamer. I like board games, tabletop roleplaying games, admire tabletop war games, suck at riddles, and have an absurd library of video games. Survival horror is basically my favorite genre. Otherwise I'm a fan of esoteric, occult bullshit and punk rock. But disco's cool. Disco is what humanity sounds like when it chooses to be happy. Between you and I, I'd like to hope that the days of my life can sparkle like a disco ball, accreting like sparks from a grinder held up against the unwavering dark of deaths own shadow. Burn baby burn.
You and I, we're gonna die. We should be friends first, though. Write some checks we can't cash and make eachother smile. Make believe for a while.
Most Recent Posts
Rin said
...Yeah, think I've well and truly passed the point where I'm kicked out for inactivity. My fault, really. Next time I should bare in mind that just because I like a character doesn't mean they'll be easy to write. ^^; Sorry about that.
Too bad. Well, you can always write up a new application for someone easier to write. To be fair, the entire game hit a bump in the road. So if yoh want, you can just post today or tomorrow and everything'll be alright.
Hey, Jones. I just PMd you. I figured I'd make note of it here since we don't have 'Notifications' yet.
Dutch Hill, Gotham City
7:06 PM
Like a stripper revealing herself, Mr.Wayne changed from partner to Burger King manager.
"Now run out the investigative string on this one. You're ready for a future attack, but the network is a weapon of last resort. You can't just sit and wait, hoping for them to strike again. Time to go on the offensive. You have some evidence and a the makings of a pattern of criminal behavior. It's enough to form theories on motive or potential identification. What are those theories? How do you find who's doing this? What's your next move?"
I sat quietly while I listened intently, as much as I hate being lectured, I hate being wrong more. And then I spoke:
"The perpetrator obviously has a background in special effects. Suspects may include anyone from magicians, to film producers, to chemists, to former military operatives. With the cause of fear and panic being his motivation, I'm willing to bet it was someone who had their dreams crushed, whether it be an abusive father, oppressive government, or a failed career.
Perhaps once the museum closes tonight we could investigate the scene to find out the chemical agents used to create the illusions before too much of the forensic evidence is destroyed by the GCPD. Also, finding the make and model of the projector, as well as all of the content stored on it, may help us narrow down our suspects."
I brushed my lip and scratched the bottom of my chin as I awaited a response from my 'partner.' The possibilities are endless, especially if all we're doing is looking at the smoke and mirrors.
7:06 PM
Like a stripper revealing herself, Mr.Wayne changed from partner to Burger King manager.
"Now run out the investigative string on this one. You're ready for a future attack, but the network is a weapon of last resort. You can't just sit and wait, hoping for them to strike again. Time to go on the offensive. You have some evidence and a the makings of a pattern of criminal behavior. It's enough to form theories on motive or potential identification. What are those theories? How do you find who's doing this? What's your next move?"
I sat quietly while I listened intently, as much as I hate being lectured, I hate being wrong more. And then I spoke:
"The perpetrator obviously has a background in special effects. Suspects may include anyone from magicians, to film producers, to chemists, to former military operatives. With the cause of fear and panic being his motivation, I'm willing to bet it was someone who had their dreams crushed, whether it be an abusive father, oppressive government, or a failed career.
Perhaps once the museum closes tonight we could investigate the scene to find out the chemical agents used to create the illusions before too much of the forensic evidence is destroyed by the GCPD. Also, finding the make and model of the projector, as well as all of the content stored on it, may help us narrow down our suspects."
I brushed my lip and scratched the bottom of my chin as I awaited a response from my 'partner.' The possibilities are endless, especially if all we're doing is looking at the smoke and mirrors.
jagajac said
After him! Hahahaha :) jk. I'll try to get up a post as soon as I can today. Kinda hard while supervising multiple heathen chilrun.
Don't merely supervise: Train Them. Here's a guide.
Heya guys. I posted now. Hope we're good... Heh, heh.. *backs away slowly*
A Junkyard, New York City
10:30 AM
Kevin Ford bit his lip as he worked on repairing a Model-T from below. When his frantic efforts only seemed to cause things to get worse his foremost teeth tightened like a clamp. A lone droplet of blood emerged from Kevin's lip as he panicked due to shower of oil from the vehicle above him.
He reached away from under the car and clenched his lips and eyelids shut, he was in no mood to accidentally take a swig of crude oil.
Seconds later his manic fingers felt their way around a rag, once securing a grip Kevin abruptly snatched it and drove his closed hand to the source of the leak. He precisely followed the trail of hot oil to a slender pipe along the edge of the car's underbelly, where he tightly wrapped the thick rag around, hoping to choke the leak and provide at least a temporary solution to the mechanical issues.
When he'd secured the rag, he took a match under the car, cautiously shielding it to avoid starting a fire, and saw that the rag was holding up surprisingly well. So, in an effort to quit while he was ahead, he then pinched the minuscule flame with his gloved fingertips before tumbling between the two left tires from under the car. With that project at a temporary resting point, Kevin stood straight up, stretching his stressed out spine, and gazed around the area.
Amongst other things, he had been restoring a dogfighter in his spare time. Despite not really expecting completion any time soon, Kevin loved the notion of owning an airplane.
Now, technically all of the items within the gates of the yard belonged to a wealthy man who had occupancy in New Mexico. And Kevin was, by all accounts, a gamin. Still, as the sole person to ever have an interest in these specific things in the least accessible part of a junkyard, a destination rarely visited by the general public anyway, he'd decided that he was the only logical owner to the projects he'd chosen.
While looking out at the airplane he'd adopted, Kevin heard a loud and sudden rustling.
He snapped his gaze behind his back, spinning around and readying himself for hard contact. But he merely heard the sound of old bean cans falling down the side of a pile of waste. The source of the disturbance was coming from the top of the hill. So, readying himself, he grabbed hold of his wrench and gripped it like a club before starting to march up the pile of trash.
As he set his foot on top of a radio set, he felt it begin to change its balance, but not enough to stop Kevin from using it as a stepping stone. From there, he hopped up a few feet, landing on a wooden crate partially covered by rotting fruits and a set of magazines. As Kevin prepared to go higher again, setting his sights on a firm looking guitar case, he heard the rustling stop. He waited for it to continue, but all he heard was a squeak. Then, instead of a continuous rustling, there was a clash of metal against metal as a ferret emerged from within a set of kitchen pots.
It began to dash downward, almost slyly slipping past Kevin, except it fell a bit short, and had a wrench thrown at it.
The sight of seeing something instantly fall unconscious from a blunt blow is horrifying the first time you see it. But after doing it every couple days and doing it as a reflex it stops bothering you.
Kevin carefully lowered himself down the side of the pile of trash and besides the ferret, which he scooped up along with his wrench before heading down.
When he finally got down, he went over to a spot he visited often, his little 'kitchen'. It was a pile of old newspapers dipped in oil with a pot suspended above it. He tossed the ferret into the pot after sucking the life out of it and lit a flame below.
Now all he had to do was wait. It's times like these he sometimes would think about his father and the life he'd led before at public school. Then it hit him like his wrench hit the ferret:
"I should've been at the Institute an hour ago!"
He jumped onto his feet and took off running out of the junkyard, augmenting his speed with the bio-energy he'd leeched from the ferret.
"God! God! God!"
10:30 AM
Kevin Ford bit his lip as he worked on repairing a Model-T from below. When his frantic efforts only seemed to cause things to get worse his foremost teeth tightened like a clamp. A lone droplet of blood emerged from Kevin's lip as he panicked due to shower of oil from the vehicle above him.
He reached away from under the car and clenched his lips and eyelids shut, he was in no mood to accidentally take a swig of crude oil.
Seconds later his manic fingers felt their way around a rag, once securing a grip Kevin abruptly snatched it and drove his closed hand to the source of the leak. He precisely followed the trail of hot oil to a slender pipe along the edge of the car's underbelly, where he tightly wrapped the thick rag around, hoping to choke the leak and provide at least a temporary solution to the mechanical issues.
When he'd secured the rag, he took a match under the car, cautiously shielding it to avoid starting a fire, and saw that the rag was holding up surprisingly well. So, in an effort to quit while he was ahead, he then pinched the minuscule flame with his gloved fingertips before tumbling between the two left tires from under the car. With that project at a temporary resting point, Kevin stood straight up, stretching his stressed out spine, and gazed around the area.
Amongst other things, he had been restoring a dogfighter in his spare time. Despite not really expecting completion any time soon, Kevin loved the notion of owning an airplane.
Now, technically all of the items within the gates of the yard belonged to a wealthy man who had occupancy in New Mexico. And Kevin was, by all accounts, a gamin. Still, as the sole person to ever have an interest in these specific things in the least accessible part of a junkyard, a destination rarely visited by the general public anyway, he'd decided that he was the only logical owner to the projects he'd chosen.
While looking out at the airplane he'd adopted, Kevin heard a loud and sudden rustling.
He snapped his gaze behind his back, spinning around and readying himself for hard contact. But he merely heard the sound of old bean cans falling down the side of a pile of waste. The source of the disturbance was coming from the top of the hill. So, readying himself, he grabbed hold of his wrench and gripped it like a club before starting to march up the pile of trash.
As he set his foot on top of a radio set, he felt it begin to change its balance, but not enough to stop Kevin from using it as a stepping stone. From there, he hopped up a few feet, landing on a wooden crate partially covered by rotting fruits and a set of magazines. As Kevin prepared to go higher again, setting his sights on a firm looking guitar case, he heard the rustling stop. He waited for it to continue, but all he heard was a squeak. Then, instead of a continuous rustling, there was a clash of metal against metal as a ferret emerged from within a set of kitchen pots.
It began to dash downward, almost slyly slipping past Kevin, except it fell a bit short, and had a wrench thrown at it.
The sight of seeing something instantly fall unconscious from a blunt blow is horrifying the first time you see it. But after doing it every couple days and doing it as a reflex it stops bothering you.
Kevin carefully lowered himself down the side of the pile of trash and besides the ferret, which he scooped up along with his wrench before heading down.
When he finally got down, he went over to a spot he visited often, his little 'kitchen'. It was a pile of old newspapers dipped in oil with a pot suspended above it. He tossed the ferret into the pot after sucking the life out of it and lit a flame below.
Now all he had to do was wait. It's times like these he sometimes would think about his father and the life he'd led before at public school. Then it hit him like his wrench hit the ferret:
"I should've been at the Institute an hour ago!"
He jumped onto his feet and took off running out of the junkyard, augmenting his speed with the bio-energy he'd leeched from the ferret.
"God! God! God!"
Killer_Instinct1 said
Could you check out CS page please?
I have,but one of the first things the page says is "ACCEPTED SHEETS ONLY".
I'll wrap up the training scenario tonight if Natty doesn't post. Then we can move on.
Alright (flexes muscles), time to get this game back on track.
In response to the sheets for Nikola Sebastian Blood & the AU Peter Parker, we do not accept original characters nor will any alternate universes be in use until further notice.
TitansGame is the destination for CSs to be submitted, though it is not 'bad' to send them directly to me.
This goes for all accepted characters. If you have not posted in the last week, you have three days to post in the IC or be eliminated from the roster. This includes myself.
As for the YA posts so far, good job people. I enjoyed reading them.
In response to the sheets for Nikola Sebastian Blood & the AU Peter Parker, we do not accept original characters nor will any alternate universes be in use until further notice.
TitansGame is the destination for CSs to be submitted, though it is not 'bad' to send them directly to me.
This goes for all accepted characters. If you have not posted in the last week, you have three days to post in the IC or be eliminated from the roster. This includes myself.
As for the YA posts so far, good job people. I enjoyed reading them.
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