Polyphemus

Low-Fantasy RP set in 1914 Paris [High Casual-Advanced]

This is a month before the war breaks out, am I right to assume that'll be a major part of the plot? Because there needs to be more WWI RPs.

Perfect Crime .Inc

McThing just loves everyone.

Prison Roleplay? - Prisoners and Guards

Could be interesting if done right. I'll raise my hand for this.

Perfect Crime .Inc

Basic Information Name: Timothy Aloysius Francis McMurphy Nickname/Alias/Etc: McThing Gender: Male Age: 31 Height: 203 cm Weight: 138 kg Status: Freelance Appearance Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Blue Ethnicity & skin color: Caucasian, fair-skinned Physical Appearance: McThing is an extremely tall and broad man, muscular yet undefined. His craggy face might be handsome under better circumstances, but is marred by a bad shaving rash and several scars. His nose in particular has been broken and reset numerous times. His hands are particularly large and tend to be bright red in contrast to his fair skin. Attire: McThing can usually be found in an inexpensive, department store suit, with the tie frequently loosened. He's no fashion-plate, though, he only wears a suit as part of the image he wants to project. Personality Outward & Innate Personality: Outwardly, McThing is quiet, preferring to cultivate his air of menace by intently watching others. Deep down, though, he is full of self-doubt and constantly trying to win approval or praise from others. Hobbies/Interests: McThing is an avid fan of comic books- he got his nickname from one of the members of the Fantastic Four. Skills/Talents: You do not hire Tim McThing for his mind. Rather, you hire him for the fact that he is a giant who possesses a great deal of physical strength. As a former pro wrestler, he is very good in a close-quarters scrap. He has a great deal of control- while he is certainly capable of hurting people very, very badly, he can also pull off flashy moves that look painful but are actually harmless to the other person (ideal for a staged fight). Additionally, he has some skill as an actor, often surprising people with how completely he is able to adopt a cover story or remember details or lines. Prized Possession: A mint-condition copy of Action Comics #1. Quote: “You guys keep this up, someone is liable to get hurt. FYI, it's not gonna be me.” History/Bio: Tim McMurphy was born and raised in the notorious Charlestown district of Boston. In a working-class family, there wasn't much money to go around. Without pocket money to buy the comics he loved (they were a welcome distraction from being smacked around by his drunken out-of-work father), Tim found his size and strength made it easy to take books or money from other children. He was in and out of trouble throughout his youth, dropping out of high school at 16 to pursue a professional wrestling career. He struggled in this job for another eight years, but between professional mismanagement and his own tendency to spend heavily, he had difficulty making ends meet. All that changed, however, when he was approached by a couple of men. They were the vanguard of Boston's organized crime scene, members of the Irish Mob. A towering man like McMurphy would be useful for intimidating even the most recalcitrant. McThing, as he came to be known, found he enjoyed the work, not to mention the pay. Soon he was accepting pay to rough up just about anyone, satisfying his baser instincts while finding his niche. Family: Tim McMurphy comes from a large Irish Catholic family. His father Daniel died two years back (Tim didn't bother to attend the funeral), his mother Angela is retired and lives in Boston. His siblings: Sean (37, welder, Boston); Allison (35, housewife, New York City); Paul (28, unemployed, Boston); Kevin (27, taxi driver, Providence); Christine (22, student, Lowell). In many ways, he is the black sheep of the family, all of whom live honestly. He is estranged from the rest of the McMurphy clan. Relationships Relationships: TBA Abilities Expertise: Muscle Limitations: Tim McThing is extremely bad with money. He spends injudiciously and doesn't even know how to balance his checkbook. While not exactly stupid, he is easily persuaded or misled. Additionally, his enormous size is also a drawback- he is pretty much incapable of operating with even the smallest amount of stealth, he has difficulty finding clothing or vehicles that fit him, he stands out vividly in the minds of witnesses.

Perfect Crimes Inc.

No problem, these things happen.

Perfect Crimes Inc.

An RP about pulling capers? Hell yes!

Japan Under Siege- A Godzilla RP

Well, the situation he's in isn't the best.

Japan Under Siege- A Godzilla RP

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, TOKYO 12:20 PM Hirotoshi Ueda had already loosened his necktie and discarded his suit jacket. If this was any indication of the way things were going, he would be naked by dinnertime. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Ambassador. Any help the United Kingdom can give us would be greatly appreciated. The people of Japan will be thankful and indebted beyond description.” Ueda nodded gratefully and set the phone down on the receiver, looking up at his Foreign Secretary, Akiyama. The man had impressed Ueda in the last hour- even on the way to the bunker, he had been appealing to foreign powers for aid and assistance. So far, the United States, Australia, India, and New Zealand were already mustering troops to aid in the battles that were soon to be fought on Japanese soil. And that was just what Akiyama had managed to do from the backseat of a speeding car. Ueda himself had managed to wrangle promises from the British. Now history will remember my efficient begging technique, he thought bitterly. Hopefully his eyes were not too red and puffy from his breakdown earlier. He had no sooner set down the receiver than a soft voice behind him quietly said his name. He turned to see Koyanagi, his Public Safety Commissioner. “Sir, we have to discuss the refugee issue. Greater Tokyo is unaffected, naturally thousands will arrive here.” “Of course we're unaffected,” Ueda said with a sigh. “It's a message to us in government. Surrender or else there will be more. As bad as it is now, will our resolve stand when we see additional attacks in Tottori, Nagano, Kitakyushu, Oita, Himeji, Matsue, Hiroshima, Wakayama?” “Be that as it may, sir,” Koyanagi said delicately, doing her best to avoid the Prime Minister's anger and bitterness, “this is an issue we must prepare for.” Ueda shook his head. “So many people are leaving Japan. Order the governors of Tokyo, Chiba, Kanagawa, and Saitama to reserve all empty hotel rooms and open all the parks for tents. That should at least accommodate a few.” “But the wounded, sir,” Koyanagi pressed on. “Some of the biggest hospitals in the country are already inactive, sir, others are being abandoned in fear. The number of injured may actually outstrip the number of hospital beds in the country.” “Then we'll need to set up field hospitals. And we'll need doctors, maybe even foreign ones. Akiyama,” he said to his closely listening chief diplomat. “Don't so no to anyone who offers assistance. The Cubans will undoubtedly call offering doctors and medicine, like they do when there's any kind of disaster anywhere. Tell them yes. Misery makes for strange bedfellows, eh?” Ueda took a moment to look at the news coming in on the bunker's multiple televisions. It was the same, really- the creature the media called Manda rolling in the splinters of Dogo Onsen, the Kamacuras swarm wreaking havoc in the suburbs of Kumamoto, Osaka in flames, Fukuoka Tower toppling, Okayama Symphony Hall crumbling, the emergence of the two creatures from Mount Fuji. The news stations were simply cycling the same clips over and over again, without commentary- because really, what was there to be said? Of course, the only clip from the last hurried hour that had stuck with Ueda was not repeated. The one with the reporter in the helicopter over Kobe, the one who died screaming when the helicopter was hit by shrapnel and spiraled to the ground. The telephone rang yet again, and the Prime Minister could barely suppress a sigh as he lifted the secure line. “What? Yes, this is the Prime Minister. Yes, of course I'll speak to General Onodera.” Ueda almost felt himself straightening to attention, and was secretly glad someone was there to take responsibility away from him. “General Onodera,” Ueda said formally once he was patched through. Confidence beganto flow through the Prime Minister as he took command. “Thank you for calling. I respect your initiative, you are the first JSDF official to contact me. I knew the CRF was our best hope. I have several instructions for you. First, you are in military command for the duration of this crisis. All Ground, Air, Maritime, Coast Guard, and police personnel report directly to you from this moment onwards. Use them as you will. Second, the Cabinet has agreed to call out all reserves in order to meet this threat. Foreign troops will soon be arriving to provide aid, I expect you to show them every courtesy and use them to their fullest capability. Third, our first priority is to protect civilians. Moving them to safety is our immediate concern. As of right now, you have authorization to open fire on the jellyfish creature headed for Nagoya, codename Dogora; the giant spider in Shizuoka Prefecture, codename Kumonga; the acidic monster in Hokkaido, designated Hedorah; and the giant insects in Kumamoto, codename Kamacuras. For all other kaiju, attacks will wait until confirmation of the evacuation of all civilians in the immediate area or their confirmed movement into uninhabited land.” In a few short sentences, Ueda had given the JSDF the most power they had held since WWII. he stayed on the line, waiting for a response as he watched yet another recap of Oodako pulling container ships underwater in Kagoshima. NAHA, OKINAWA “We brought you all this way just for this?” Corporal Tanner asked, shifting aside his M4 carbine to light a cigarette. “This better be pretty fucking good.” “Give her a chance, Corporal,” Lieutenant Young said sharply. The young officer, a long way from his native Kentucky, shifted uneasily. “Those orders were sealed since the 1960s. In case of attack by giant monster, send military escort with current member of Azumi family. Our government knows what its doing.” In truth, Young didn't feel as confident as he tried to appear. His orders came from a yellowing envelope locked up in a desk drawer for fifty years, how much could they possibly mean? And yet, when his CO had come to him with the assignment, Young didn't hesitate. Grab the oldest living Azumi, escort him or her to Shuri Castle. It had been a her. Most definitely a her, few men in the platoon could help themselves from at least a good up-and-down stare. Young would much rather be on the front, fighting what the locals were beginning to call Gezora. But this mission, whatever it was, would be useful. At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he watched Gezora from a distance, smashing more buildings into dust. The young woman seemed to be concerned with little more than putting a jade statuette onto a forgotten little alcove of the castle, then kneeling down in the middle of the courtyard. Rifles and rocket launchers raised, the Marines couldn't help but notice the comely young woman. . . start to sing a song, apparently directed at a particularly large hill just outside the city. Well, Young conceded, maybe these orders were a complete waste of time. At least, he kept thinking that until the hill started to split open, revealing a large pair of ruby-red eyes.

Japan Under Siege- A Godzilla RP

Alright, things are starting to move at a nice clip. I will update soon.

Japan Under Siege- A Godzilla RP

Looking forward to it!