burn
New Member
"It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?"
hey hi, i'm burn, and i'll condense this reaaaal quick for people just wanting a concise point: i am DYING for a cyberpunk setting.
ig i should probably put some stuff here about me, too, huh?
21+ and I'd prefer it if you were, too, male, EST timezone. My sleeping schedule is absolutely heinous, and if I had an iota of shame within my body I'd probably fix it, yet here I am. OOC i am a nefarious goblin creature that thrives off chaos, and will absolutely shitpost your ear off if you allow me to. Very respectful of IC/OOC boundaries, and I cannot stress this enough, I absolutely need you to be on the same page there.
All of that being said I've been told i'm very chill and mellow, and i dedicate 99% of my brain's bottlenecked processing power to WRITE GUD so you'll have to forgive me for my lax take on literacy ooc. i swear i can still string together words that'll make you hallucinate bro, bro trust me, please bro.
ALSO here's examples so u kinda know my writing style.
if you're interested past that, then i'm gonna wax about what i want here, so bare with me.
Think 2077, Shadowrun, Blade Runner. Something that lives and breathes by the word 'dystopian'. I want every inhale this setting takes to be a kaleidoscope of what would've been other-wordly levels of hedonism and escapism, a decade ago. A neon-washed façade of extravagance, a city of lost people, swallowed by the momentary bliss of drugs, violence, and the mindless indulgence of flesh -- a fluorescent Sodom and Gomorrah. Basically, give me Vegas on mega-steroids, and jacked up with more chrome than a Chevy ad, minus the swag rock. If Vegas were ran by a conglomerate of corporations that had a very hands-off approach to enforcing humanitarian standards, anyway. ( ... it's not already, right..? )
If it inhales, it has to exhale, and I want that to be just as vivid, too. Nights that're only pleasant to look at from behind panes of glass and air-tight rooms, a place where the frequent rains turn the city into electric watercolor. It burns your eyes like liquid cigarette smoke would, it smells of death, and people that aren't fortunate enough to be spared from it pay a high toll when it comes to their health, when it comes to long-term exposure. The days are no better; nights that come with rain are followed by oppressive, humid days where the air feels like soup, and smells twice as worse as the rain did coming down. The ones not predated by rain? A furious machine of heat and contempt-- like a spite-filled convection oven, designed more to piss people off than to actually cook anything, though it is still terribly effective at the latter.
Worse than that, there isn't much at all that separates the forces of law and order from the people that'll kick your head in in for fun, or rip your cyberware out for a quick buck. Infact, the police as a whole might even be worse than them -- contested districts turn into shoot outs between precincts, not because they want the blocks, but because they don't want any of their own operations infringed upon by outside badges. 'Protect and Serve' hasn't been said for a long while, unless it was a sardonic utterance to someone who was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and missing their teeth for it. There are good men and women that wear the shield -- but they're few and far between, and unlikely to show it. Between the outside threats that would capitalize on having an officer up their sleeve, and the inside threat that carry 'Internal Affairs' badges, they're hopelessly outnumbered.
Tribalism is akin to a terrible disease here-- a cancer that's rotting the city from the core, out. Language, race, creed, nationality, strata -- all of it molded and spat this writhing mass of humanity into smaller, bite-sized sections of 'us' and 'thems' a long time ago.
... but yet, even with everything -- everything -- that is so, terribly wrong with everyone here...
There were nights where you didn't wake up to missed calls and texts, telling you of another friend that was gone. There were nights where the rain never came, and the neon of the city reminded you of when you were too young to realize how fucked up everything could be. Times, half drunk or half high -- riding the come down or simply just basking in the afterglow of the peak-- where you looked over and saw the face of your friend who'd come along with you for that ride, and were struck by a sharply lucid moment that felt perfectly out of place. A moment where you placed every detail of them to the deepest parts of your memory, and decided to keep them there, regardless of what could happen in the future.
There were friends within this city that would die for you, and you would die for them. There was no hesitation to be had when you thought of them, and how you'd throw yourself in the path of a hundred bullets for them. People still fucking smiled in this city. From the lowest dreg, to the highest suit -- they laughed. Some of them even loved. Genuinely, and unabashedly, in a way that only humans could.
In a way that almost made the things they said, and the things that they did, forgivable. Or maybe it did. It was best to not think too deeply on that, sometimes.
Our characters will live here. They'll likely die here, too, eventually. At least that's what everyone else seems to do. Nobody just leaves, despite there never being any walls to keep them there. Just a city of chromed out primates, each with something to prove. Some rudderless, some not, all vying for the top of the mountain with fancy sticks and stones -- whether they realize it or not.
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If this sounds anything remotely like something you could see yourself enjoying, I BEG OF YOU BIG DOG, PM me. We will plot what the hell ever out, I am very flexible when it comes to what we pick to do along these lines, and just about everything is negotiable.
Romance, action, platonic, doubles, triples, mxf, mxm, dice rolls??? -- THROW. DOWN. KEY. WORDS. AT ME. and also bs with me ooc, huge fan of that. ok bye.
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