WardenCelestine

Having trouble drawing interest for RP's.

@BrokenPromise - I appreciate the feedback. I do understand that making friends and building a reputation as a reliable writer is a huge part of what makes roleplays succeed, in fact, I really value the social side of this hobby and I’m definitely looking to build those connections. For me, though, one of the main reasons as to why I’m here is the story itself. While I know the 'how' of getting players to join often involves networking, my personal goal is to create worlds and narratives that stand on their own merits. I’m going to keep focusing on the quality of my work, and I’m hopeful that as I continue to share these stories, I’ll find those right people to write with and build those friendships along the way.

Having trouble drawing interest for RP's.

@TokyoPewPew

Do you mean that there is the potential for complexity in my Middle-earth project, rather than what I have actually laid out?

Having trouble drawing interest for RP's.

Hello RPG,

I would like to speak to you all of you about the current issue I am having with the site. For a long time, I have been pouring my heart, my time, and my creative energy into building stories set within the universes of Middle Earth, Halo, Fallout, Warhammer 40k, and Mass Effect. I have taken notes, refined my out of character details, and spent countless hours developing story and lore, all with the hope that others would find the same love in these worlds that I do.

The reality is that I am currently feeling quite discouraged due to the fact that when I create these roleplays, the turn out is always very low. When you put this much effort into a project, it is hard to not feel a sense of burnout or depression when your threads go unanswered, or when the projects that I care about so deeply do not gain the traction needed to take flight. Seeing other projects move forward while my own efforts remain dead in the water, has made me realize that my stories are perhaps not working out as they are currently presented.

I am not leaving, I am still here, and I still have many stories I want to tell. However, I am admitting that I am feeling the weight of the effort versus the lack of results. I value this community and would appreciate any honest feedback on how I might move forward.

Paths of the Free Peoples: A Story of Heroes Unsung [A Middle-Earth Roleplay]

[Introduction]

"Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

OOC: The GM's Notes

Welcome, all and thank you very much for taking an interest in [Paths of the Free Peoples: A Story of Heroes Unsung [A Middle-Earth Roleplay] I have been wanting to create a Middle Earth roleplay for many years, since I hold everything about it very close to my heart. I finally decided to take the initiative after rewatching the movies, reading the books, and the fact that it is the 25th Anniversary to the Lord of the Rings movies.

The story below sets the stage for a grounded, character-driven narrative set in the North of Middle Earth, shortly before the events that would draw the world into the War of the Ring. We are not starting as heroes of legend or lords of the West; we are starting as the folk of the land: blacksmiths, innkeepers, soldiers, mercenaries, local farmers, wandering minstrels, and those simply passing through for the harvest. Yet, not every path to Bree is common; some of you may carry the weight of a singular history, be it a past in the service of a fallen house, a life spent in the shadows of the wild, or a secret that forces you to walk a lonely road. The option of who you are is up to you, but regardless of your station, there is a place for you in this story.

Whether you have lived within the Bree-land all your days or have only just arrived, you find yourself drawn to the region as the autumn chill settles over the land. You may be settling into a room at the Prancing Pony, camping on the outskirts of the Chetwood, or tending to business in the markets of Staddle or Combe. You are separate for now as the evening falls, each of you with your own burdens, your own history, and your own reasons for seeking the hearth, but you do not yet realize that you have been pulled toward this crossroads by a design far greater than the promise of the festival.

The Path Ahead

We are writing the story of how such individuals become the heroes Middle Earth desperately needs. As the borders of the known world fray, you will face threats that care little for your rank, your trade, or your history. In the encroaching dark, you will discover that greatness is not inherited or born of ancient bloodlines, but forged in the crucible of your choices when the light begins to fail.

The Rhythm of the World

This story is a tapestry of contrasts. You will experience the Slice of Life: the quiet hum of a tavern at dusk, the haggling in the markets of Staddle, and the warmth of a shared pipe by the hearth, interwoven with the harsh, visceral reality of a world under siege. Combat in this age is dangerous and decisive; when the shadows move, they do not offer fair fights, and survival will demand more than just a sharp blade or a strong arm, it will demand your wits.

The world is alive, and I want it to feel that way for all of you. The weather shifts, local tensions simmer, and rumors in the street grow darker by the hour. Though we begin within the familiar crossroads of Bree-land, our journey will eventually carry us far beyond its borders, across the wild expanses and hidden corners of Middle Earth. We are looking for writers who want to build this world with us: those who relish the small, atmospheric moments of daily life as much as the adrenaline-fueled tension of holding a line against the unknown. If you are prepared to inhabit a Middle Earth that breathes, bleeds, and reacts to every step you take, you will find a home here.

If you are interested in taking part, please review read what I have written below, and let me know! Thank you all!

The Story

The air grows heavy across Middle Earth, swelling with a silent, gathering dread. While rumors of unrest, a sleepless malice gathering strength in the black lands of Mordor, and shifting shadows echo in the distant, anxious halls of Rivendell and Minas Tirith, the common folk try desperately to look away from the horizon. The remaining Dúnedain, the Rangers of the North, Keep a desperate, sleepless vigil over the wildlands of Eriador. But their numbers are stretched dangerously thin, pulled away to guard the borders of the Shire and the high passes of the Misty Mountains, leaving the ancestral crossroads of the North largely unwatched.

Yet, in the quiet, rolling hills of Bree-Land, the common folk cling tightly to the warmth and light they know, blissfully ignorant of the wider world's troubles, or willfully ignoring it.

The autumn wind carries the comforting scent of woodsmoke, roasted barley, and the sweet, rich smoke of Southfarthing pipe-weed. The legendary Bree-Land Harvest Festival has arrived! It is a massive, two week long celebration drawing travelers from every corner of the map. For a fleeting moment, the crushing weight of the outside world is entirely forgotten. The cobblestone streets of Bree, the hillside pastures of Staddle, and the deep dales of Combe and Archet are alive with roaring laughter. Competing minstrels playing lively lutes and pipes, and long tables groaning under the weight of honey-glazed autumn pies, spit roasted meats, sharp cheeses, endless flagons of dark ale from the local cellars and so much more.

It is a rare, joyous tapestry of Middle Earth. Stout Dwarf merchants down from the Blue Mountains challenge local Men to fierce arm wrestling matches and boisterous drinking contests in the courtyard; high spirited Hobbits dance merrily on the tabletops to fast paced fiddle tunes, throwing apple cores and cheering; and wandering Elves, journeying westward along the Great East Road toward the Grey Havens, or bound for the hidden valleys of Rhudaur, have paused their long travel to join the merriment. They brighten the feast with their ethereal laughter, matching the locals drink for drink, and occasionally lighting up the night sky above Bree hill with dazzling bursts of colored fireworks that paint the clouds in brilliant hues of emerald and gold.

The festival is a golden, flickering sanctuary of fellowship with games, food, drinks, company and countless other activities. But just beyond the ring of festival torches, where the firelight dies against the edge of the Chetwood, the wildlands are growing cold, hostile, and unnatural.

On this day, a red letter day of high summer's end, a lone Ranger of the hidden remnants of Arnor can be seen moving silently within the festivities. Clad in the weather worn, grease stained green and gray of the trackless wild, he stays mostly to himself, lingering on the fringes of the roaring firelight where the shadows are longest. Yet, his sharp, sleepless eyes never cease their scanning, searching through the sea of laughing faces, drunken merchants, and dancing folk for who, or what, has yet to be seen.

However, the music cannot last forever ...

Even now, beneath the laughter and the bursting sparks of gold and emerald, the air is changing. Travelers arriving late past the Forsaken Inn speak in hushed, terrified tones of a foul breath blowing from the direction of Barrow Downs a bitter, unnatural frost creeping off the ancient burial mounds that kills the autumn bloom overnight. Worse still, a cold malice seems to ripple outward from the ruins of Cardolan, and strangers with squinted eyes and harsh Dunland accents have begun to linger in the dim alleys behind the stables of the Prancing Pony, watching the festival goers a bit too closely.

A sleepless darkness is stretching its fingers from the Black Land of Mordor, testing the fragile borders of Eriador. On this day, a red letter day, the festival fires still burn bright against the edge of the Chetwood, but the Shadow is patient, the servants of the Enemy are moving in secret, and the dark wildlands are waiting just beyond the hedge gates.

Rules & Conduct

The Shadow’s Weight: This is a world where choices carry true weight. Your character’s decisions, from how they treat a stranger to how they approach the unknown, will have consequences.

Respect the Lore: We are playing in Tolkien's sandbox. While your characters are original, their actions and history should respect the established geography, timeline, and tone of the Third Age.

No God-Modding: You are responsible for your own character’s actions, thoughts, and words. You may not control another player’s character, nor should you have your character perform impossible feats that trivialize the danger of this world..

Mutual Respect: OOC (Out-Of-Character) drama has no place in our story. Be kind, be patient, and respect the fellow players who are building this world with you. Harassment or exclusionary behavior will not be tolerated.

Post Quality & Etiquette: Please provide multi-paragraph posts. Avoid one-liners. Keep all OOC chatter within designated threads or spoiler tags to maintain immersion.

The Pace of the Wild: While real life always comes first, we aim for a post at least once per week. If you know you will be away for an extended period, please let me know so we can keep the story moving.

Collaborative Storytelling: This is not a solo journey. Please remember that we are a fellowship. Look for opportunities to engage with your fellow players rather than just focusing on your own narrative arc.

The Stakes: Because this is a dark, grounded setting, we will be using a narrative first approach to combat and danger. Actions that place a character in mortal peril may result in serious injury or worse.

Contact and Help: If you have any questions, concerns, comments, need any help at all, please reach out to me or my fellow DM.

Character Sheet

Name:

Gender:

Race & Culture: (e.g., Bree-man, Hobbit of the Shire, Dúnedain of the North, Dwarf of the Blue Mountains, etc.)

Age: (Please keep this accurate to the lore)

Occupation/Role: (What do you do? How do you fight?)

Appearance: (Briefly describe their appearance. Do they look like a traveler, a local, or someone hiding something?)

Personality: (What drives them? What is their disposition toward the world as it begins to darken?)

Flaw or Burden: (Every hero in Middle Earth has a weakness, a fear, a past mistake, or a physical limitation.)

Arms & Armor: (What do they carry? Keep it practical and fitting to their status.)

Personal Items: (Does your character carry a memento from home, a pipe, a map, or something else of sentimental or practical value?)

History: (Where are they from and what has brought them to Bree for this festival.)

The Shadow's Reach: (How much does your character know or fear about the rumors of unrest in the wildlands and beyond?)

NieR Roleplay Concept

@POOHEAD189 POOHEAD HIMSELF! Thank you for the kind words.

NieR Roleplay Concept

Hello everyone!

I have been considering starting a NieR inspired roleplay and wanted to check for interest. Please keep in mind though that this is still very early in development.

My goal is to capture the core tone of the series, which is bleak, introspective, and character-driven, with a strong focus on emotional weight and philosophical themes. I am also interested in including slice of life elements and combat, highlighting the contrast between ordinary moments of connection and the ever present threat of violence. The setting could take place within an existing era, an alternate timeline, or a fully original story.

At the moment, I am still working through how to approach the lore, as it is fragmented, non-linear and covers a number of forms of media. Because of that, I am open to any assistance that others may be willing to offer.

Thank you all!

Glory to Mankind

The Dead Don't Die: Paradise Lost.

I am interested. ^_^

Halo: Edge of Midnight

[Senior Chief Petty Officer Solares Morgenstern] - [Anvil Station]

The weight atop Solares’ helmet vanished as she stepped into Conference Room Seven. Where Maya had perched moments ago, there was now only empty space; the cyan AI had withdrawn, leaving a small, simplified icon in the upper-left corner of Solares’ HUD. There, Maya reclined on her side, resting her head on a tiny hand, gaze fixed forward, silently observing.

Solares did not take a seat. Military habit held; she came to parade rest beside an empty chair, hands clasped behind her back, posture precise and disciplined. The faint sound of her breathing blended with the room’s hum, armor plates reflecting the soft glow of the holographic tablets on the table.

Her eyes swept the room in a single, careful arc. The ONI Commander at the head of the table, an armored Sangheili standing behind him, and the assembly of personnel called to the briefing, all cataloged without distraction. Each presence marked, each stance noted, every movement of potential interest. Solares’ attention lingered briefly on the Sangheili general; the armor, the posture, the silent authority it conveyed, all data to store and consider.

“Senior Chief Petty Officer Solares Morgenstern,” she said, voice even, controlled. “Reporting as ordered, sir's.”

In the upper-left corner of her HUD, Maya’s miniature figure blinked to life more vibrantly. Lounging on her side, one tiny hand tucked beneath her cheek, she fixed her gaze now towards Solares with her usual calm amusement.

"Ah, look at the new ONI AI, trying so hard with a bow, dramatic, yes, and very… pointed. The symbolism isn’t lost on me. Clever, certainly, though perhaps a touch on-the-nose. You, my Spartan, chose a Kitsune. Elegance, deadly grace, wisdom, playful charm… it suits you far better. I could say more, but I’ll spare you the flattery for now. Though, I do think a lesson on the Hitokiri 人斬り would delight you in the near future", she whispered quietly through the private channel.

Halo: Edge of Midnight

[Senior Chief Petty Officer Solares Morgenstern] - [Anvil Station]

Solares walked steadily toward the lift, falling in step beside Cassandra. She barely flinched at the unusual weight atop her helmet, the familiar presence of Maya balancing there. Her posture remained calm, controlled, as always, though the corner of her mouth twitched in quiet amusement.

“Duty calls, one way or another.” she said, giving Cassandra a polite nod. Then, to the hovering AI, her voice was low but laced with gentle exasperation: “Maya, if you intend to philosophize while riding my helmet, at least try not to obscure my sensors.”

Perched atop Solares’s helmet, Maya let her tails sway lazily behind her as she leaned forward slightly, chin resting near the visor. “Ah, but I provide perspective, don’t I?” she teased, voice carrying that smooth, playful warmth. “A higher vantage point allows for clearer insight into human… and Sangheili… behaviors.”

She flicked a tail toward Tapo’Hatam. “Though perhaps this is more about amusement than observation. Fear not, warrior, your conversation was neither ignored nor dismissed. Quite the opposite, in fact it was… illuminating.”

Then, with a tilt of her head toward Cassandra, she added lightly, “Shall we follow our friends, or shall I remain perched here to judge your walking pace?”

Halo: Edge of Midnight

[Senior Chief Petty Officer Solares Morgenstern] - [Anvil Station] - [14:20]

Maya’s cyan form flickered brighter for a moment as Tapo’Hatam finished speaking. Her gaze lingered on him, expression hovering somewhere between curiosity and approval.

“Well,” she began, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips, “for someone who claims to have difficulty with translation, you manage to say quite a lot.” Her tone was smooth, carrying a teasing edge, but her eyes stayed warm. “As I said before! You speak with precision that is measured, deliberate, but never dull. Ah, I am repeating myself now.”

Her tails moved in a lazy sweep behind her, one looping idly as she leaned forward a little. “You know, most people would have bristled at my earlier observations. You, however, turned them into something poetic. Blades breaking against each other, you said? That’s beautiful. Painful, but beautiful. It reminds me that peace isn’t always born from harmony, sometimes it’s forged from the echo of impact.”

A small, mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “And I’ll admit,” she added, voice lowering with mock seriousness, “I’m flattered. It’s not often that happens. Occasionally, I’m accused of being intrusive, or too analytical, or...” she paused, smirking slightly, “Too pretty for someone of my kind.”

Her tails flicked once, amusement evident in every movement. “You handle curiosity well, Commander. Most would have flinched or offered a deflection. You? You met me head-on. It’s... refreshing.”

Then, just as quickly, she pivoted, turning her attention toward Solares. “And you,” Maya said lightly, “You’ve been suspiciously quiet through all this. Either you’re thinking very deep thoughts, or you’re waiting for me to talk myself into trouble again. Which is it?”

Solares looked up from her tea, the faintest smirk curling her lips. “Bit of both,” she admitted. “You do have a habit of making friends by dissecting them mid-conversation. Or getting them to like you via your endless charm?”

Maya placed a hand over her chest in exaggerated offense. “Dissecting? Please. I prefer the term curious engagement! As for the charm, why thank you.”

Solares shook her head, chuckling softly before glancing toward Cassandra, who had just finished speaking. “Cassandra, I do not think asking if they can take apart the combat harness to see how it works will end well. My advice would be to acquire one from supply corps.”

Her attention returned to Maya, her tone softening. “And as for you, my dear Maya, perhaps try not to flirt and philosophize at the same time. It’s hard for anyone to keep up with you.”

Maya’s tails curved in an unmistakably smug arc. “Why choose between them? Both are highly efficient methods of diplomacy. Also, I am most certainly not flirting!”

Solares gave her a look, the kind that carried fond and amused exasperation.