Saiyan

Why I Roleplay Female Characters (As a Cisgender Man)

Of all my recurring characters in RP, I only have one female. She started out as a side-character - a sorta fantasy 'girl with guns' trope - confident, sexy, invincible. Then I ended up giving her a backstories and putting her in different RP universes and she became more fleshed out. But she's still a sexy stereotype fantasy girl, no matter how much depth I give her lol.

I'm probably the problem here. Well not me, but guys like me. We might play into the stigma that the only reason to play a female is to be a little horndog lol.

Just offering a different perspective. Everyone else seems a lot more mature than I am. And I completely agree, that players should be able to play whatever they want, whoever they want, for whatever reason they want. This is the important note. And RPGuild players definitely promote and practise this freedom.

As far as playing females in 3rd person action games. I do it like 50% of the time. I've come to realise that if one is gonna spend 100 hours plus staring at the backside of a created character, then why not make that character a female lol. Plus, as others have mentioned, all the cool armour and aesthetic options are always for the girls.

Hell, I spent some time trying to find a cool male picture for an anime-style knights RP I'm about to do... ALL THE BEST PICTURES WERE FEMALES. All the cool outfits, the cool poses, the sheer variety to badassness... all for the ladies.

Sp, for the shallow shitheads in the world of RP, that just like cool, shiny, fantasy shit; I get it man, I really do - Females are the way to go.

The Second Falling of the Big Brother Government - (A Tale by KrystalKleo & Saiyan)

Dozer

When Violet growled and howled, tugging on her chain eagerly, Dozer shouted to Tasha. "Hey Tash! I think Violet's got something, over here!"

The raider braced his feet, trying to keep hold of the chain holding Violet in place. She really wanted to follow the scent. Dozer managed to keep her in place until the crew got there. When Tasha gave the order, Dozer let himself be dragged by the wolf who followed the trail down the street, turning a corner here or there. "Easy girl."

"Oooh, I can't wait to get my hands on the fuck who killed Tater-Tot."

Dozer was in agreement. "Oh don't worry little man, we'll get em. And when we do, they'll be begging for death."

"Grr, I told you not to call me little man!"

They must have been going for ten blocks before the road opened up into a small highway. After that they were back on the small roads, travelling through ruins. Dozer hoped that Violet knew where she was going. Tasha would beat him to death if he'd led them all on a wild goose chase. Where she finally stopped was a tall townhouse at some crossroads. She growled and barked, Dozer letting everyone know that this was the building.

"Yeah, we have eyes, you dumbass!"

"Shut up, little man," was Dozer's reply.

"Grrrrr, I won't tell you again, you piece of shit, don't call me little man."

Tasha gave the order to check the building and unfortunately for Dozer, he was closest and went first. He and Violet rushed into the entrance, and as the door opened, the resulting explosion would be heard by everyone except Dozer and Violet.

Dozer and Violet wouldn't hear anything... ever again.

*******

It only just occurred to Isaac, as he was ducked down under the windowsill, listening to the raiders outside, that Zara hadn't shown any signs of carrying a weapon. He looked back at her, then fished a hand onto his belt and unclipped the big knife. Silently, he tossed the knife to her, still in it's sheath. It wouldn't perform very well against a bunch of guns, but it was better than nothing, and it was all he had.

Then the explosion happened. Not as loud and powerful as a regular grenade, but loud enough to make Isaac wince. The door to the bedroom blew open with the force of the blast. Isaac chuckled as he new, whoever triggered that was absolutely in the afterlife, right now. He peeked over the windowsill to see the raiders scrambling for cover, making a commotion. Once the noise died down...

"Hey assholes, will you keep the noise down?" Isaac shouted. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"We know you've got the girl in there! Hand her over, now!"

"And what if I do?" Isaac shot back, smiling. He looked at Zara and gave her a wink. It perhaps wasn't the time to be joking about trading a former slave to a bunch of bloodthirsty raiders. Especially when Zara was so recently freed and probably untrusting of everyone. This occurred to him as Tasha was making a trade offer, so Isaac made sure Zara knew he was on her side with his next action. He rose into view of the raiders, leaned on the windowsill, scanned the crew, then brandished his gun and took a shot at the easiest target. The resulting cry of pain said that he'd hit the man but not killed him. Isaac ducked back behind cover, laughing, as a barrage of return fire hit and chipped at the window. Beaming a crazy smile at Zara, Isaac was actually enjoying himself. "Look, you guys should go back where you came from. The downstairs of this building is rigged with more traps than you've got people. You have no chance here. The girl ran off a while ago, it's just me here!"

"Fucking liar!"

"I swear........ She transformed into a butterfly, gave me a blessing and fluttered off into the night....... God's honest truth." Now the young hero was just being ridiculous. But all the while he was talking utter nonsense, between each line, he was whispering to Zara that there was an escape route in the bathroom. "The woman you know as Zara was actually just her caterpillar form."

Heir to the Maou

Let's gooo, the gang is coming together nicely! :D

Heir to the Maou

"Hey, bro," Dante said absently to Fenn by his side. Fenn cast a sidelong look at the taller demon as they walked. Dante had his eyes fixed on the ogre named Gunthar who was disappearing down the tunnels, way ahead of them. "What do you think of that guy, Gunthar?"

"Oh, the big man," Fenn answered. "I dunno, he's cool. Doesn't talk much."

"I sometimes catch him looking up at the sky, almost wistfully, ye know..." Dante explained. "I just wonder what's going through that head of his. Like maybe he wants out."

"Out? Of this place...? Lilith." Fenn shook his head bemusedly, then waved off the thought. "I wouldn't talk like that if I were you, Dante. That's just asking for trouble."

"I'm just saying... could anyone even stop him?" Dante went on, much to the visible discomfort of his friend. "My uncle says that the Ogre tribes fought off the humans for ages. Even after the Demon Lord was defeated. They were the last to fall. Stronger, tougher than anyone."

"I can't hear you," Fenn pretended, half joking - as was his way - but deadly serious that Dante should just stop wherever he was going with his musings.

"Alright bro, I get it," Dante finally relented. He knew that if anyone heard him talking like this, there'd be major punishment to pay. But his mind could only think of his earlier argument with his uncle. And one line in particular.

"...Your father was missing, replaced by a trail of purple blood that led to a river, where the trail went cold."

He's still out there, Dante thought.

Virgil started calling out at the head of the column. “Separate into your squads! As a reminder, torches are only for emergencies; we don’t want to make more work for the carters in charge of ventilation. Pair off, and trade who’s acting as Light BEFORE you run out of Aura. I’M TALKING TO YOU, TAGG! That happens again, I might not send a team after you next time!”

Dante grinned along with the chuckling crowd. He was close enough to lean over and give Tagg a friendly shove. The demon in question scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a grin on his face.

“Dante! F-Fenn!” Dante turned to see Talia approaching them. Talia was good people, with a big heart. Being of similar age, they were both in Old Draconhouser's care at the same time and grew up together. Dante had always liked Talia. “Want me to be first Light today? I’ve been practicing a technique to help me last longer.”

Fenn practically jumped on the Satir, putting an arm around her. "Oh, make you 'last longer,' huh?" Fenn goaded, putting a sexual spin on her phrasing. "Sounds wild."

Dante was caught between wanting to laugh and feeling uncomfortable for Talia. Had it been anyone else instead of the bookworm, classic Fenn would've gotten a laugh out of Dante, but instead he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Lilith, cut it out, you creep."

The three of them made a good team in the mines, and once they were at their spots, Dante was soon whacking rock with his pickaxe. "So Talia," he started, maintaining a steady pace of work. "What did you do with your day off?"

He picked up some ore, brushed a bit of soil off it with his hands as he took it over to the cart and dumped it in. Then he went back to gather more. He could hear some of the groans from older demons as they bent over, hauled themselves up, threw ore into carts. Each movement of the body seemed tough on some of the workers. Dante was still young and hale as ever, but it scared him to think that he'd be doing this the rest of his life. It wasn't something he really thought about often. But now...

"Your father was missing, replaced by a trail of purple blood that led to a river, where the trail went cold."

Heir to the Maou

I gotchu mate

Heir to the Maou

@Restalaan You wanna go first?

Bloodlines (A tale by Love Dove & Saiyan)

Central Park was a nice place in the daytime. In Archer's opinion, it turned utterly miserable at night. At the time Archer's taxi pulled up, it was somewhere in between it's transformation. A few vagrants milled about with bottles of wine. Some moody, tired working folks headed to or from their shift. The young assassin stared up at the commercial tower across the road from him as the taxi drove off. A few bodies crissed and crossed his path before he headed over the road, to the looming office block.

"Archer," Sam, the receptionist greeted. Archer threw up a hand in leui of a wave. "Lost your bike again?"

He had. Yesterday, he'd crashed the motorcycle while chasing down his target. The whole thing turned into a footrace and massive circus, Archer had forgotten where he'd even left his vehicle. The young man looked at the receptionist and shrugged his shoulders as he passed., then entered the elevator which was already waiting for him. As the doors were shutting, he smiled, unable to think of any smart remark or quip he could make to sound like a badass. The truth was he should've been using a car, as he could actually drive those without nearly killing himself. But it just wasn't nearly as cool as riding a motorcycle.

She always rode a bike.

Sam shook his head disappointedly and went back to some work he was doing.

The elevator arrived at one of the classified floors, (Archer had to put a code in to do so,) and the doors opened to a giant, open office space; a room strewn with lines of desks arranged in different shapes and sections. It was busy, as always. Half a hundred people on phones, making international calls, interdepartmental calls, agent-to-agent, national government... there were a lot of conversations and arguments in the air. A man called David, veteran assassin, was walking around with a SPAS shotgun, trying to get someone to help him fix it.

"Archer!"

"Shit," Archer muttered. He didn't even get a chance to make a coffee.

The big office adjacent to the open-plan floor - the bosses office - was at the end of the room, and there was the boss man, red-faced and staring right at Archer.

3
Above: Sergeant Walter Daniels, Head of the Field Operations

"Get your ass in here."

Archer carried himself with a head held high on his walk of shame, getting a few looks from colleagues as he passed them. Some looks of pity, some derision, some amusement. "Alright, Guv," he greeted as he walked into the office of Sergeant Daniels, the department head. He hated his boss. Such a fucking try-hard, who'd go to an early grave with blood pressure issues if he wasn't careful.

"Don't you 'alright, Guv' me, you little piece of shit. Do you know how much damage you caused with that shit show yesterday!?" It was admittedly messy, but what was one supposed to do when a nonhuman serial killer just decides to book it above ground and run around in the daylight? Archer was about to explain as much but got cut off as soon as he opened his mouth. . "500K, Archer. Half-a. Fucking. Million. Dollars, Archer! That's the bill for the damages; repairs, compensation, hush money, media spin... all because of your fucking idea of what it means to be an agent!"

The tirade of abuse went on for another ten minutes. Some fresh new lines, sure, but mostly the same old stuff; how Archer was incompetent and never should've been allowed to become a fully fledged agent. How he costed the company untold thousands with his bull-in-a-china-shop antics. How he was on his last warning before being sent to work in the Antarctic for the rest of his life. Nothing Archer did was good enough for Daniels. A neutral assessor would totally understand why this was the case. According to Archer, everyone just hated him because he was English.

"Listen, forget the succubus. We've got other people on it now. We need you for this." Daniels dropped a massive file onto the desk in front of Archer, who thumbed through the pages looking for pictures. "Word around town is; It's a Lycan. Particularly nasty one, too."

"Jesus Christ," Archer exclaimed when he finally found a picture of a victim in the pages.

"Yeah, it's not good," Daniels agreed, sparking up a cigarette and going to his window to look out on the city. "I dunno, Archer, I think this might not just be any old Lycan. I think it's something big. We're getting calls from Italy. The Vatican are getting themselves involved."

Archer's eyes lit up. "The Vatican?"

"Yeah." Daniels noticed Archer's reaction. "Don't get excited, they're not sending your fucking mommy over." Archer deflated, but tried to hide it by being angry at the insult. "Oh, you thought she was coming back? Save your hopes for something else." That one hurt. A lot. Archer decided he'd had enough of this shit, grabbed the huge file and turned to leave. "Everyone's got their eyes on this one, Archer, the whole world. The Assassins, Vatican, Templar, Shogun... everyone is watching us right now."

Archer paused his exit to look at his boss who turned away from the window to give weight to his last words.

"Don't fucking screw this up."

The Second Falling of the Big Brother Government - (A Tale by KrystalKleo & Saiyan)

"I have no caps to give you if you would charge me. I just have learned early on to not go into someone's rucksack, even if invited to. Those that invite me to, tend to accuse me of stealing and demand my head. Those that didn't invite me, threatened my hand or head. So it's just safer to stay out." She sipped from the canteen.

"Sheesh, fair enough," replied Isaac. He supposed he couldn't be surprised. It only made sense that the savages would be turning on eachother when given the chance. "Not much in the way of trust and friendship as a raider, huh."

"I just need to get away. I don't care where. Anywhere close and they will find me. Hunter will be looking for me personally. I know far too much about him and his crew, including the base..."

The young man perked up at this point, a twinkle in his eyes, the wheels in head turning. He damn-near missed the rest of what she was saying. So, the girl's got some secrets about the Diamond Backs, he thought to himself. This raider gang was a big player on the eastside of New York. Quite the terror. If they could be brought down... Hmmmm.

"Well, we'll head out at first light," he told her. No use in talking about it now. They would have time. "For now, try and get some rest."

After they finished their snacks, Isaac put out the three oil lamps, then got back comfortable at the window. An hour passed in relative quiet. Aside from two cats skulking past, there was no activity outside. Isaac periodically rubbed his eyes to stay sharp. Taking a watch was boring as hell. Time passed slower than molasses. But a boring watch was better than the alternative. And, little did Isaac know, that alternative was on it's way.

Somewhere, far in the distance, Isaac heard the sad howl of a wolf...............

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Let's goooo XD

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Lucas Storm

• Name: Lucas Storm
• Age: 17 years old
• Gender: Male
• Race: Human
• Appearance: Standing 5' 11" and a sleek 155 lbs, Lucas carries himself with the graceful posture of both an athlete and an artist. His smile is polite and unassuming, his eyes are bright and steel-coloured, and his hair is as white as snow.
• Personality: Although a little withdrawn in light of the relatively recent death of his parents, Lucas is slowly but surely returning to his old self: A warm and friendly young man who will always seek to raise his friends spirits, whether it's with an unfunny joke or an arm around the shoulder and an open ear. He also has an odd quirk of being fearless. Not courageous, no - courage requires the presence of fear - but complete fearlessness. Danger simply does not move him. He has somewhat of a darker side that went undiscovered until he started weapons training... he does like to 'talk a little trash,' seeking to press the emotional buttons of his opponent and get them off their game. It is a little jarring to witness, for anyone that knows him, to see him in this arrogant and malicious state. Aside from that, he likes card games, climbing trees and reading books about heroic deeds, adventure and rescuing princesses.
• Brief Backstory: Lucas Storm was born to Penny and Harold aka 'The Storms' - a double act in a travelling circus troupe that lived on the roads of Thain. They were not quite the main event, but between Penny's acrobatics and Harold's knife-throwing expertise, the two had their act down to a tee and made a good living at the top of the card. Lucas however, had shot into stardom as a gifted trapeze artist and worked with his parents friends often as the main event. Every night he risked his life to entertain the audience, and strangely the dizzying heights or the danger had never even slightly bothered the boy, not even the first time.
  
  Life was good. Simple, yes, but contented and full of love. Living on the road meant one was always an outsider and so the troupe had a trust and loyalty between them that went beyond community. More like family. They looked out for each other, lied for each other (certainly when thieves and pickpockets in the troupe began to make their extra money off the current town,) and they would no-doubt die for each other... something many of them eventually did. This circus life would indeed come to an end when they were assaulted in Velt by slaver unit. The troupe resisted as best they could, but were no match for amply-armed slavers. Many of them died, including Lucas' parents, Penny and Harold. Lucas was taken prisoner and caged, ready for sale.
  
  No more than three days after Lucas was thrown into a cage, the slaver encampment was set upon by a mercenary band who captured the place after a bloody battle. Lucas was awestruck as a hero straight out of one of his books, fought evil men valiantly and freed him from the cage. That man, he would find out, was Gerard Segremors. From that day forward, Lucas Storm wanted to be a hero, like in his books. A hero like Gerard Segremors. His first act a free person again, was to go to the quartermaster of the mercenary band and request to be recruited. Perhaps the quartermaster took note of the young lad's strong body and graceful gait. Perhaps it was the look of determination and fearlessness in his eyes. For whatever reason, Lucas' request was accepted and he began training under the quartermaster.
  
  This life as a mercenary did not last long however, as no more than some weeks - maybe months - later, the mercenary band was dissolved and folded into the military arm of the Church. Lucas didn't care, he simply waited to see what Gerard would do, and when his idol joined the Blades of Iron Roses, Lucas followed him into the order.
  
  Now, Lucas finds himself training under a real regiment, in an order of knights where he might truly become a hero from his books - a hero like Gerard Segremors. And he works hard to make it happen.
• Equipment: A set of battered plate mail. A longsword. All standard basic Order issue. He likes to carry several daggers on his person, preferably balanced for throwing or using in a tight situation.
• Skills: Free-climbing. Juggling. Dizzying acrobatics. Knife throwing. Hold Em Poker. Pickpocketing. Cheering friends up. Sneaking.