Recent Statuses

2 days ago
Current Welcome to RPLand, ain't nothin' like it. Except for TV... or, sleeping. ewh... it's an entertainment option.
10 days ago
Am I the last of the millenials that doesn't know generic html? hmm..
15 days ago
I am so bored... that I rubbed one out and then had some cookies... rofl?
19 days ago
I need a new lens. My left lens on my 'scription is cracked. I got like... 30% vision lost
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Most Recent Posts

I wish evberyonme would create some CS docs and enter some input. We got the era, which is Rebellin time. We could go and base the RP during the Clone Wars.

The skimpy little application is a small table that is basic. Manipulate it.
Chris sat at the table that was stationed between the radiator and the bed. He felt lousy from the powdery substance he did between the time he woke up until now. Chris was an addict. No one knew it. They could not know Chris did so much dope that he would cut the lights off and keep checking the windows to see if that imaginary sound or that unbelievable urge to make sure his mama was alright... he could not call.

Chris's uncanny drug use started after his father got murdered. He was selling and using cannabis, but it was controlled. When Antonio Dellacrose left the Earth, his family shattered. There was a lot of things going around. Chris had excused himself from his mother and everyone else. After he went away, his mother went to Florida.

His phone's message alert was signaled, and he picked up it up from the drawrer, unlocked it, accessed his voice mail, and it was the boss reminding him that there was a party tonight. He thought to himself... Is the pope in town? He flicked his eyes some because his joke reflected him returning to a reasonable amount of brain chemicals.

He wanted to call, but instead he keyed in a quick, simple text.

It was a little chilly in the room, so Chris turned up the heat. He sat down to have a cigarette, a menthol. Now, he was going to give himself an hour, and shower and get a cup of coffee and get dressed. It was either going to be his watch, or his necklace. He'd put on what felt right.

Only two characters should have enough midichlorians to be lightsaber users. One good, one bad.

I want this to be rebels vice empire. So, that would be the era.

I'll be back in an hour for questions, and comments.

Chris had no faith in a divine being watching over him. He took care of himself. He knows the who's who, but he would murder anyone who supposed they could bury his name, steal from him, inform to the feds, or demand to do this or that because they doubted how in charge he was. Or, "in charge" could be rephrased as Chris being a wiseguy. All these things maintained a perimeter that people had to know. These things governed his life.

In an hour, Chris would be woke up by a phone call from the innkeeper. He was in a hotel. A few things had the cops looking everywhere for him and a couple guys. A cocaine transfer that went went wrong, someone got shot, and an hour after the fuck-up, somebody walked in a bar in Little Italy and tossed in a grenade... and then the sonofabitch shot a few bullets at the bartender. Chris knew the Colombians were heated and wanted to hurt somebody. The cops? They're here and there, but Chris was a big street guy, he just slipped there and moved to the next one.

In twenty minutes, the gangster would received his wake up call. He would get out of bed, go get his coffee, and get ready for the day. The TV was on from the night before, and there was half a $5 cigar in the ashtray. Chris was sleeping away, in his khaki pant with the belt wrapped inside the loops, when the concierge called him five minutes ear

He got out of bed, and remained in his slacks and put on a big, white tee shirt. He walked to the cabinet beneath the TV, retrieved his .45 cal pistol. He tucked it in the front of his pants and tightened the belt. He turned off the TV. He checked a few things out. He had two phones. He checked the messages, nothing. But he noticed a pager number, which was to a friend who run dope in the past, and who agreed to 56 months in prison.

He called his partner in crime and they greeted each other tough guy to tough guy, and then they talked about business.

"I forgot about it," Chris said while he remembered. "I remember now. OK OK..."

He disconnected his personal cell phone. Then, by his bed, inside of the lampstand, he reached in and pulled out a small bag of cocaine. He dumped a small amount on the table. He got a credit card and pressed down to make the compressed flakes usable. Then, he used a money bill and ingested it. Next, he returned to the cigar and set it aflame. For the next hour, Chris begin to question himself.

Was there a God? Why was he thinking about God?... etc.
@Eviledd1984I'm in the Italian family too. I should rep with the gang.
Oh wow, thats whats up.

I went to the library and checked out SW Allegiance. Because of this hobby I've returned to, I'm diving in.

Everyone else... manipulate the CS and let's get closer to starting.
I will be posting tomorrow. blood money a la crate
Looks like I didn't make it huh?
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone <3
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone <3
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