I've been in an RP for over a year now that has been rebooted 3 times since I've joined in. It's nice to change subtle things but stick to the main arcs. Like the fight with James and Deon, that would be an arc, but the whole lead-up to it could be different. (I suck at explaining things)
As far as forgetting what has and hasn't happened, we are by no means defined by what we've already done right? I for one wouldn't at all mind if the story took a completely different turn at a point, we are all very good roleplayers and therefore we should all know how to adjust accordingly, right? lol
Just don't stress, we'll be caught up in no time!
YoshiSkittlez
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Roleplay Master
- Last Seen: 11 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: YoshiSkittlez
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- YoshiSkittlez 12 yrs ago
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TokyoPewPew,
Lord Wyron
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Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
You are the puzzle that I will never be able to solve and somehow, that's okay.
1
like
9 yrs ago
I'm sorry... I can't keep going like this. I need solidity. Figure out what you want and why... and then talk to me. I will always love you. And yes. even she knows that.
9 yrs ago
I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'll never understand or forgive myself. And if I die, so help me, I'll laugh at myself for being an idiot. There's one thing I do know and that is that I love you.
1
like
9 yrs ago
Kind of just came out to my family and Facebook that I'm getting a sex change... so yeah... dealing with that. Be back soon.
14
likes
10 yrs ago
You are my heart. You are my Once upon a time.
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Most Recent Posts
That would be incredibly difficult to do, since Jack and Kate have been scrapped, which also means that if Ghost is hanging on to Sektor, his plans will have to change too...
It sucks for the other half of this rp (Deon, Vander, Mason, James, Havok...etc.) because that doesn't really effect them much, but...yeah...like I said...complicated lol
It sucks for the other half of this rp (Deon, Vander, Mason, James, Havok...etc.) because that doesn't really effect them much, but...yeah...like I said...complicated lol
I’m a rockstar, I’m a dealer
“Seventy-two…”
I’m a servant, I’m a leader
“Seventy-three…”
I’m a saviour, I’m a sinner, I’m a killer
“Seventy-four…”
I’ll be anything you want me to be
The sudden sound of a click echoed through the nearly empty basement room, the once heavy bass and tendrils of the even heavier guitar lines abruptly stopped, leaving only the grunting sound coming from a male as he continued his seventy-fifth upside-down vertical sit up from a bar he had set up in the middle of the room. The shirtless male arched his back, putting his body in an awkward looking bended shape as his bright golden eyes pierced the dark green eyes of his cousin.
“How about a maid? You’ve let my place go to shit.” The cross looking woman said folding her limber arms across her chest, looking up at the male with a dissatisfied expression.
The vertical position of the male forced the sweat from his legs to trickle up his flexed torso, up his neck and up to the very top of his head where it continued to drip off of him as he stared the female down. With an agitated sigh, he bent his torso up, practically folding his body in half as his fingers nimbly worked the metal restraints that had been clasped over his bare ankles, thus releasing the hold on him. With somewhat of a back-flip, the male fell to the floor deftly on the balls of his feet, bending at the knees to soften the blow some. He slowly straightened his back up, vertebrae by vertebrae until he was standing at his full six feet, two inches and ran his hand through his mess of sweaty hair. The sides of his head were shaved, leaving just a thick strip on the top of his head of hair to grow. Sure he could have put it into a mohawk if he wanted to, but that just wasn’t his style. He preferred the messy mop look. Hell, even if he wanted to try a different hairstyle, it was practically impossible for him to grow any hair on the left side of his head. A thick scar reaching from the back of his head wrapped around the top of his head, cutting just into the top of his eyebrow. It was a scar that probably should have had medical treatment, but instead was healed on its own, therefore still looking very raw despite the fact that he received the scar nearly a year ago. If only the memories of how he came to have that scar healed on their own too...
Approaching the woman with his chest heaving as the sweat dripped down his body in the normal way now. He reached over the female’s shoulder, keeping his eyes on her and pushed the play button on his Blender Lite music player, the Ozzy Osbourne song picking right up where it had left off just moments ago before the female had turned it off. A bright red light emitted from the music player, and with a few clicks on some buttons, a 3-D female dancer, nude, appeared in the air above the music player and started pole dancing to the beat of the music. The female glanced at the virtual stripper that was at least six times smaller than life-size and shook her head.
“Classy.”
“I told you not to interrupt me when I’m training.” The male’s voice said gruffly, a calloused tone in his natural voice sounding like he had been gargling rocks his whole life.
“Don’t be a twat Deon, I let you live here remember?” The female sighed. “Besides, I only came down here to remind you that I’m going to be gone this evening. I have a meeting I need to go to about project X-95.3. See there might have been some malfunction therefore we might have to do a total recall-“
“Kate.” Deon interrupted her, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care.”
Kate narrowed her already small eyes at her cousin, her middle finger subtly itching to flip him off.
“Just remember to not piss off A.D.A.M. again, I’m not about to leave my meeting just because you’ve been stuck with a neo-tranque dart again.”
Deon scoffed, picking up a dirty white rag from the floor and used it to wipe the sweat from his neck.
“You talk about that stupid program like it's alive. It's really kinda creepy...” Deon countered but then waved Kate off before she could remark back at him. “But yeah, yeah, you got it. No problems from me. Besides, I work tonight, won’t be home until your hitting your snooze button.”
“Yeah, work.” Kate scoffed, unable to help rolling her eyes as she turned to head back up the stairs to the main part of her loft.
Deon finished wiping down his neck and glanced up at the neon colored digital clock on the wall. The entire basement of his cousin's loft had been transformed into his own living space. It was dark, musty, unfinished…reminded him of his own room back in the fourteenth district actually, so he didn’t mind. He didn’t have time to start up another rep so he moved to his bathroom where he did a quick rinse down and dressed in new clothes of a beat-up looking grey wife-beater and a pair of black baggy cargo pants.
Moving over to where his mattress lay in the middle of the floor, he scooped out his sunglasses and headed up and out of the loft to the garage where he mounted his brand new, top-of-the-line motorcycle. Pressing his thumb to the sensor bar, it whirred to life and Deon was off to ‘The Spit.’
“Seventy-two…”
I’m a servant, I’m a leader
“Seventy-three…”
I’m a saviour, I’m a sinner, I’m a killer
“Seventy-four…”
I’ll be anything you want me to be
The sudden sound of a click echoed through the nearly empty basement room, the once heavy bass and tendrils of the even heavier guitar lines abruptly stopped, leaving only the grunting sound coming from a male as he continued his seventy-fifth upside-down vertical sit up from a bar he had set up in the middle of the room. The shirtless male arched his back, putting his body in an awkward looking bended shape as his bright golden eyes pierced the dark green eyes of his cousin.
“How about a maid? You’ve let my place go to shit.” The cross looking woman said folding her limber arms across her chest, looking up at the male with a dissatisfied expression.
The vertical position of the male forced the sweat from his legs to trickle up his flexed torso, up his neck and up to the very top of his head where it continued to drip off of him as he stared the female down. With an agitated sigh, he bent his torso up, practically folding his body in half as his fingers nimbly worked the metal restraints that had been clasped over his bare ankles, thus releasing the hold on him. With somewhat of a back-flip, the male fell to the floor deftly on the balls of his feet, bending at the knees to soften the blow some. He slowly straightened his back up, vertebrae by vertebrae until he was standing at his full six feet, two inches and ran his hand through his mess of sweaty hair. The sides of his head were shaved, leaving just a thick strip on the top of his head of hair to grow. Sure he could have put it into a mohawk if he wanted to, but that just wasn’t his style. He preferred the messy mop look. Hell, even if he wanted to try a different hairstyle, it was practically impossible for him to grow any hair on the left side of his head. A thick scar reaching from the back of his head wrapped around the top of his head, cutting just into the top of his eyebrow. It was a scar that probably should have had medical treatment, but instead was healed on its own, therefore still looking very raw despite the fact that he received the scar nearly a year ago. If only the memories of how he came to have that scar healed on their own too...
Approaching the woman with his chest heaving as the sweat dripped down his body in the normal way now. He reached over the female’s shoulder, keeping his eyes on her and pushed the play button on his Blender Lite music player, the Ozzy Osbourne song picking right up where it had left off just moments ago before the female had turned it off. A bright red light emitted from the music player, and with a few clicks on some buttons, a 3-D female dancer, nude, appeared in the air above the music player and started pole dancing to the beat of the music. The female glanced at the virtual stripper that was at least six times smaller than life-size and shook her head.
“Classy.”
“I told you not to interrupt me when I’m training.” The male’s voice said gruffly, a calloused tone in his natural voice sounding like he had been gargling rocks his whole life.
“Don’t be a twat Deon, I let you live here remember?” The female sighed. “Besides, I only came down here to remind you that I’m going to be gone this evening. I have a meeting I need to go to about project X-95.3. See there might have been some malfunction therefore we might have to do a total recall-“
“Kate.” Deon interrupted her, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care.”
Kate narrowed her already small eyes at her cousin, her middle finger subtly itching to flip him off.
“Just remember to not piss off A.D.A.M. again, I’m not about to leave my meeting just because you’ve been stuck with a neo-tranque dart again.”
Deon scoffed, picking up a dirty white rag from the floor and used it to wipe the sweat from his neck.
“You talk about that stupid program like it's alive. It's really kinda creepy...” Deon countered but then waved Kate off before she could remark back at him. “But yeah, yeah, you got it. No problems from me. Besides, I work tonight, won’t be home until your hitting your snooze button.”
“Yeah, work.” Kate scoffed, unable to help rolling her eyes as she turned to head back up the stairs to the main part of her loft.
Deon finished wiping down his neck and glanced up at the neon colored digital clock on the wall. The entire basement of his cousin's loft had been transformed into his own living space. It was dark, musty, unfinished…reminded him of his own room back in the fourteenth district actually, so he didn’t mind. He didn’t have time to start up another rep so he moved to his bathroom where he did a quick rinse down and dressed in new clothes of a beat-up looking grey wife-beater and a pair of black baggy cargo pants.
Moving over to where his mattress lay in the middle of the floor, he scooped out his sunglasses and headed up and out of the loft to the garage where he mounted his brand new, top-of-the-line motorcycle. Pressing his thumb to the sensor bar, it whirred to life and Deon was off to ‘The Spit.’
Ill be home in about 30 minutes and then I shall
So should I start us off?
Pretty sure we gotta start thia whole thing over since changes have beeb made. That being said and like I told Gonzo it opens up oppertunities to change the flow of the story a bit but essentially we can keep things the same, just re-write our previous posts so it fits in better. I could start us off by opening with 'the spit' arc, ill just use my intro Deon post I usee last time but refine it a bit; for example.
Are we waiting on anything before we start?
I agree with Ghost, he has that more hardened, refined look about him
Name:
Deon Desmond Saunders
Age:
24
Height:
5'11"
Appearance:
Personal Details:
Born into a very poor family as the oldest, Deon was forced to start working at a very young age, therefore not able to experience much of any kind of child-hood. He had only his mother and younger sister for family; he had never once met his father getting the rather illustrious nickname ‘bastard child’ and his sister had a different father, who died when Deon was 16 by a group of gang members wanting his wallet. At first Deon was just a messenger boy, delivering secret messages to organization members that were more than a bit sketchy, but he knew better than to ask questions. The pay was poor and he was lucky if he didn’t get beaten by his boss on a daily basis, even if he delivered on time. As Deon grew up, however, he left the job as a messenger boy and started working in a slaughter house, butchering up the livestock into fresh meat for his district to purchase at ridiculous prices. Deon soon grew bored of killing animals however, and when he was 21 he got a job fighting in the ring at a local bar. He found that fighting others was something he enjoyed, even if a bit too much.
Now known somewhat famously throughout the district and certainly bringing in more customers during the night, he earned a comfortable amount of money to provide for both his mamma and sister. His whole world came crashing down though as one night when Deon came home from work, he found his mamma and sister dead in their beds, stabbed maliciously, strangled, beaten…tortured. Unable to bear their memories any longer, Deon moved up from district 16 to district 4 with his younger cousin, though he was immediately granted a position as a fighter in ‘The Spit’ in another district. The commute doesn't bother Deon much, it's nice to get out of the 'rich' neighborhood once in a while. That was nearly a year ago, and the emotional wound that Deon carried has subsided some, but not much.
Occupation:
Professional Ring Fighter
District:
4
Additional:
Deon carries his anger around him like a suit of armor, using his intimidation to get what he wants with little to no fuss. Over the years of going from agent to agent, they all wanted one thing for him, and that was to become a monster for the media; to play out his anger which he slipped into all too-easily. Because of this, Deon struggles with who he really is anymore and so he escapes to the party-like drugs and alcohol to escape his painful reality.
Deon Desmond Saunders
Age:
24
Height:
5'11"
Appearance:
Personal Details:
Born into a very poor family as the oldest, Deon was forced to start working at a very young age, therefore not able to experience much of any kind of child-hood. He had only his mother and younger sister for family; he had never once met his father getting the rather illustrious nickname ‘bastard child’ and his sister had a different father, who died when Deon was 16 by a group of gang members wanting his wallet. At first Deon was just a messenger boy, delivering secret messages to organization members that were more than a bit sketchy, but he knew better than to ask questions. The pay was poor and he was lucky if he didn’t get beaten by his boss on a daily basis, even if he delivered on time. As Deon grew up, however, he left the job as a messenger boy and started working in a slaughter house, butchering up the livestock into fresh meat for his district to purchase at ridiculous prices. Deon soon grew bored of killing animals however, and when he was 21 he got a job fighting in the ring at a local bar. He found that fighting others was something he enjoyed, even if a bit too much.
Now known somewhat famously throughout the district and certainly bringing in more customers during the night, he earned a comfortable amount of money to provide for both his mamma and sister. His whole world came crashing down though as one night when Deon came home from work, he found his mamma and sister dead in their beds, stabbed maliciously, strangled, beaten…tortured. Unable to bear their memories any longer, Deon moved up from district 16 to district 4 with his younger cousin, though he was immediately granted a position as a fighter in ‘The Spit’ in another district. The commute doesn't bother Deon much, it's nice to get out of the 'rich' neighborhood once in a while. That was nearly a year ago, and the emotional wound that Deon carried has subsided some, but not much.
Occupation:
Professional Ring Fighter
District:
4
Additional:
Deon carries his anger around him like a suit of armor, using his intimidation to get what he wants with little to no fuss. Over the years of going from agent to agent, they all wanted one thing for him, and that was to become a monster for the media; to play out his anger which he slipped into all too-easily. Because of this, Deon struggles with who he really is anymore and so he escapes to the party-like drugs and alcohol to escape his painful reality.
lol Okay thats what I thought
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