Deal Breakers. What makes you "walk" away?
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BroscaHasScars
Junior Member
Hmm... I honestly hate character limits. I love making characters, and having just one can be a bit dull for me, at least in groups. I want multiple characters!
Post requirements kill me. Unless the requirement is a paragraph, I'll back out, because my posting is erratic, ranging from one paragraph to five. Usually one or two, though.
Post requirements kill me. Unless the requirement is a paragraph, I'll back out, because my posting is erratic, ranging from one paragraph to five. Usually one or two, though.
Inner Power
One Thousand Club
When the plot in the request thread is one interesting way, but discussing it over a pm completely steers it so far from the original plot it's something entirely different.
Retro109
Grandmaster Tactician
A definite dealbreaker for me is limitations on cs'. Now, I don't mean that I don't like a little bit of restriction, it keeps the characters from being completely unreasonable and not fitting in with the story at all. But when it is, for example: (by the way, I mostly take part in fantasy roleplays. They have a lot more potential in my opinion)
Name:
Age (must be between 14 and 19):
Race (Must be human, demon or angel):
Height(Must be 4ft to 6ft)
etc.
I know, it's a little extreme, but that kind of style really pushes my buttons. Why have so much restriction? You'll have no interesting or unorthodox characters to keep things interesting in more mundane parts of roleplays...
Name:
Age (must be between 14 and 19):
Race (Must be human, demon or angel):
Height(Must be 4ft to 6ft)
etc.
I know, it's a little extreme, but that kind of style really pushes my buttons. Why have so much restriction? You'll have no interesting or unorthodox characters to keep things interesting in more mundane parts of roleplays...
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Umbrie
Adorable Little Nymph
restrictions like that are annoying and well, another thing i hate. the "Rule of One." the "Rule of One" or the "One Snowflake Rule" or "One Wookie Rule" as it is also called, is mostly done as a way to make a world feel more humanocentric or even force the local culture of the setting onto the players by allowing one player to give one of their characters, access to a race other than human or a class that isn't one of the core 4. it generally doesn't make more humanocentric worlds, you merely get a group of people who use Tattoos, Implants and other bodily modifications to become the freaks they wanted to be instead of actually playing freaks in the first place.
adrian_
julie my beloved 🥰
This:
" „Who‟s there? Artyom - go have a look!‟ Artyom rose reluctantly from his seat by the fire and, shifting the machine gun from his back to his chest, headed towards the darkness. He stood right at the edge of the lighted area and then, as loudly and threateningly as he could, he clicked the slide on his gun and shouted gruffly, „Stop! Password!‟ He could hear quick, staccato footsteps in the darkness where moments ago he‟d heard a strange rustle and hollow-sounding murmurings. Someone was retreating into the depths of the tunnel, frightened away by Artyom‟s gruff voice and the rattling of his weapon. Artyom hurriedly returned to the fire and flung an answer at Pyotr Andreevich: „Nope, no one came forward. No response, they just ran off.‟ „You idiot! You were clearly told. If they don‟t respond, then shoot immediately! How do you know who that was? Maybe the dark ones are getting closer!‟ „No . . . I don‟t think they were people . . . The sounds were really strange . . . And the footsteps weren‟t human either. What? You think I don‟t know what human footsteps sound like? And anyway, when have the dark ones ever run off like that? You know it yourself, Pyotr Andreevich. Lately they‟ve been lunging forward without hesitation. They attacked a patrol with nothing but their bare hands, marching straight into machine-gun fire. But this thing, it ran off straight away . . . Like some kind of scared animal.‟ „All right, Artyom! You‟re too smart for your own good. But you‟ve got instructions - so follow them, don‟t think about it. Maybe it was a scout. And now it knows how few of us are here, and how much ammunition they‟d need . . . They might just wipe us out here and now for fun. Put a knife to our throat, and butcher the entire station, just like at Polezhaevskaya - and all just because you didn‟t get rid of that rat . . . Watch it! Next time I‟ll make you run after them into the tunnel!‟ It made Artyom shudder to imagine the tunnel beyond the seven-hundredth metre. It was horrifying just to think about it. No one had the guts to go beyond the seven-hundredth metre to the north. Patrols had made it to the five-hundredth, and having illuminated the boundary post with the spotlight on the trolley and convinced themselves that no scum had crossed it, they hastily returned. Even the scouts - big guys, former marines - would stop at the six hundred and eightieth metre. They‟d turn their burning cigarettes into their cupped palms and stand stock-still, clinging to their night-vision instruments. And then, they‟d slowly, quietly head back, without taking their eyes off the tunnel, and never turning their backs to it. They were now on patrol at the four hundred and fiftieth metre, fifty metres from the boundary post. The boundary was checked once a day and today‟s inspection had been completed several hours ago. Now their post was the outermost and, since the last check, the beasts that the last patrol might have scared off would have certainly begun to crawl closer once again. They were drawn to the flame, to people . . . Artyom settled back down into his seat and asked, „So what actually happened at Polezhaevskaya?‟ Although he already knew this blood-curdling story (from the traders at the station), he had an urge to hear it again, like a child who feels an irrepressible urge to hear scary stories about headless mutants and dark ones who kidnap young children. „At Polezhaevskaya? What, you didn‟t hear about it? It was a strange story. Strange and frightening. First their scouts began disappearing. Went off into the tunnels and didn‟t come back. Granted, their scouts are completely green, nothing like ours, but then again, their station‟s smaller, a lot less people live there . . . well, used to live there. So anyway, their scouts start disappearing. One detachment leaves - and vanishes. At first they thought something was holding them up - up there the tunnel twists and turns just like it does here . . .‟ Artyom felt ill at ease when he heard these words. „And neither the patrols, nor those at the station could see anything, no matter how much light they threw at it. No one appeared - for half an hour, then for an hour, then two. They wondered where the scouts could have gone - they were only going one kilometre in. They weren‟t allowed to go any further and anyway, they aren‟t total idiots . . . Long story short, they couldn‟t wait to find out. They sent reinforcements who searched and searched, and shouted and shouted - but it was all in vain. The patrol was gone. The scouts had vanished. And it wasn‟t just that no one had seen what had happened to them. The worst part was that they hadn‟t heard a sound . . . not a sound. There was no trace of them whatsoever.‟ Artyom was already beginning to regret that he had asked Pyotr Andreevich to recount the story of Polezhaevskaya. Pyotr Andreevich was either better informed, or was embellishing the story somewhat; but in any case, he was telling details of the sort that the traders couldn‟t have dreamed, despite being masters and true enthusiasts of story-telling. The story‟s details sent a chill over Artyom‟s skin, and he became uncomfortable even sitting next to the fire. Any rustlings from the tunnel, even the most innocent, were now exciting his imagination. „So, there you have it. They hadn‟t heard any gunfire so they decided that the scouts had simply left them - maybe they were dissatisfied with something, and had decided to run. So, to hell with them. If it‟s an easy life they want, if they want to run around with all kinds of riff-raff, then let them run around to their hearts‟ content. It was simpler to see it that way. Easier. But a week later, yet another scout team disappeared. And they weren‟t supposed to go any further than half a kilometre from the station. And again, the same old story. Not a sound, not a trace. Like they‟d vanished into thin air. So then they started getting worried back at the station. Now they had a real mess on their hands - two squadrons had disappeared within a week. They‟d have to do something about it. Meaning, they‟d have to take measures. Well, they set up a cordon at the three-hundredth metre. They dragged sandbags to the cordon, set up machine guns and a spotlight - according to the rules of fortification. They sent a runner to Begovaya - they‟d established a confederation with Begovaya and 1905 Street. Initially, October Field had also been included, but then something had happened, no one knows exactly what - some kind of accident. Conditions there had become unliveable, and everyone had fled. „Anyway, then they sent a runner to Begovaya, to warn them that, as they said, trouble was afoot, and to ask for help, should anything happen. The first runner had only just made it to Begovaya - and the people there were still considering their answer - when a second runner arrived at Begovaya, lathered in sweat, and said that their reinforced cordon had perished to a man, without firing a single shot. Every last one of them had been slaughtered. And it was as if they‟d been butchered in their sleep - that‟s what was scary! But they wouldn‟t have fallen asleep, not after the scare they‟d had, not to mention the orders and instructions. At this point, the people at Begovaya understood that if they did nothing, the same story would begin in their neck of the woods as well. They equipped a strike force of veterans, about a hundred men, machine guns, and grenade launchers. Of course, that all took a bit of time, about a day and a half, but all the same, they dispatched the group to go and help. And when the group entered Polezhaevskaya, there wasn‟t a living soul to be seen. There weren‟t even bodies - just blood everywhere. There you go. And who knows who the hell did it. I, for one, don‟t believe that humans are capable of such a thing.‟ „And what happened to Begovaya?‟ Artyom‟s voice sounded unusual, unlike him. „Nothing happened to them. They saw what the deal was, and exploded the tunnel that led to Polezhaevskaya. I hear forty metres‟ worth of tunnel is collapsed; there‟s no digging through it without special machinery, and even with machinery, I bet you wouldn‟t get very far . . . And where are you going to find that kind of machinery, anyway? Our machinery rotted away fifteen years ago already . ."
Yes, that was an entire page taken from Metro 2033, but asides that, I want to talk about motherfucking books for posts, I'm going to say it now, halfway into that, I would have stopped and said tl;dr, But when this is the entire RP, I'm done with it, posting limits of full pages are annoying too, because I get writer's block easily.
" „Who‟s there? Artyom - go have a look!‟ Artyom rose reluctantly from his seat by the fire and, shifting the machine gun from his back to his chest, headed towards the darkness. He stood right at the edge of the lighted area and then, as loudly and threateningly as he could, he clicked the slide on his gun and shouted gruffly, „Stop! Password!‟ He could hear quick, staccato footsteps in the darkness where moments ago he‟d heard a strange rustle and hollow-sounding murmurings. Someone was retreating into the depths of the tunnel, frightened away by Artyom‟s gruff voice and the rattling of his weapon. Artyom hurriedly returned to the fire and flung an answer at Pyotr Andreevich: „Nope, no one came forward. No response, they just ran off.‟ „You idiot! You were clearly told. If they don‟t respond, then shoot immediately! How do you know who that was? Maybe the dark ones are getting closer!‟ „No . . . I don‟t think they were people . . . The sounds were really strange . . . And the footsteps weren‟t human either. What? You think I don‟t know what human footsteps sound like? And anyway, when have the dark ones ever run off like that? You know it yourself, Pyotr Andreevich. Lately they‟ve been lunging forward without hesitation. They attacked a patrol with nothing but their bare hands, marching straight into machine-gun fire. But this thing, it ran off straight away . . . Like some kind of scared animal.‟ „All right, Artyom! You‟re too smart for your own good. But you‟ve got instructions - so follow them, don‟t think about it. Maybe it was a scout. And now it knows how few of us are here, and how much ammunition they‟d need . . . They might just wipe us out here and now for fun. Put a knife to our throat, and butcher the entire station, just like at Polezhaevskaya - and all just because you didn‟t get rid of that rat . . . Watch it! Next time I‟ll make you run after them into the tunnel!‟ It made Artyom shudder to imagine the tunnel beyond the seven-hundredth metre. It was horrifying just to think about it. No one had the guts to go beyond the seven-hundredth metre to the north. Patrols had made it to the five-hundredth, and having illuminated the boundary post with the spotlight on the trolley and convinced themselves that no scum had crossed it, they hastily returned. Even the scouts - big guys, former marines - would stop at the six hundred and eightieth metre. They‟d turn their burning cigarettes into their cupped palms and stand stock-still, clinging to their night-vision instruments. And then, they‟d slowly, quietly head back, without taking their eyes off the tunnel, and never turning their backs to it. They were now on patrol at the four hundred and fiftieth metre, fifty metres from the boundary post. The boundary was checked once a day and today‟s inspection had been completed several hours ago. Now their post was the outermost and, since the last check, the beasts that the last patrol might have scared off would have certainly begun to crawl closer once again. They were drawn to the flame, to people . . . Artyom settled back down into his seat and asked, „So what actually happened at Polezhaevskaya?‟ Although he already knew this blood-curdling story (from the traders at the station), he had an urge to hear it again, like a child who feels an irrepressible urge to hear scary stories about headless mutants and dark ones who kidnap young children. „At Polezhaevskaya? What, you didn‟t hear about it? It was a strange story. Strange and frightening. First their scouts began disappearing. Went off into the tunnels and didn‟t come back. Granted, their scouts are completely green, nothing like ours, but then again, their station‟s smaller, a lot less people live there . . . well, used to live there. So anyway, their scouts start disappearing. One detachment leaves - and vanishes. At first they thought something was holding them up - up there the tunnel twists and turns just like it does here . . .‟ Artyom felt ill at ease when he heard these words. „And neither the patrols, nor those at the station could see anything, no matter how much light they threw at it. No one appeared - for half an hour, then for an hour, then two. They wondered where the scouts could have gone - they were only going one kilometre in. They weren‟t allowed to go any further and anyway, they aren‟t total idiots . . . Long story short, they couldn‟t wait to find out. They sent reinforcements who searched and searched, and shouted and shouted - but it was all in vain. The patrol was gone. The scouts had vanished. And it wasn‟t just that no one had seen what had happened to them. The worst part was that they hadn‟t heard a sound . . . not a sound. There was no trace of them whatsoever.‟ Artyom was already beginning to regret that he had asked Pyotr Andreevich to recount the story of Polezhaevskaya. Pyotr Andreevich was either better informed, or was embellishing the story somewhat; but in any case, he was telling details of the sort that the traders couldn‟t have dreamed, despite being masters and true enthusiasts of story-telling. The story‟s details sent a chill over Artyom‟s skin, and he became uncomfortable even sitting next to the fire. Any rustlings from the tunnel, even the most innocent, were now exciting his imagination. „So, there you have it. They hadn‟t heard any gunfire so they decided that the scouts had simply left them - maybe they were dissatisfied with something, and had decided to run. So, to hell with them. If it‟s an easy life they want, if they want to run around with all kinds of riff-raff, then let them run around to their hearts‟ content. It was simpler to see it that way. Easier. But a week later, yet another scout team disappeared. And they weren‟t supposed to go any further than half a kilometre from the station. And again, the same old story. Not a sound, not a trace. Like they‟d vanished into thin air. So then they started getting worried back at the station. Now they had a real mess on their hands - two squadrons had disappeared within a week. They‟d have to do something about it. Meaning, they‟d have to take measures. Well, they set up a cordon at the three-hundredth metre. They dragged sandbags to the cordon, set up machine guns and a spotlight - according to the rules of fortification. They sent a runner to Begovaya - they‟d established a confederation with Begovaya and 1905 Street. Initially, October Field had also been included, but then something had happened, no one knows exactly what - some kind of accident. Conditions there had become unliveable, and everyone had fled. „Anyway, then they sent a runner to Begovaya, to warn them that, as they said, trouble was afoot, and to ask for help, should anything happen. The first runner had only just made it to Begovaya - and the people there were still considering their answer - when a second runner arrived at Begovaya, lathered in sweat, and said that their reinforced cordon had perished to a man, without firing a single shot. Every last one of them had been slaughtered. And it was as if they‟d been butchered in their sleep - that‟s what was scary! But they wouldn‟t have fallen asleep, not after the scare they‟d had, not to mention the orders and instructions. At this point, the people at Begovaya understood that if they did nothing, the same story would begin in their neck of the woods as well. They equipped a strike force of veterans, about a hundred men, machine guns, and grenade launchers. Of course, that all took a bit of time, about a day and a half, but all the same, they dispatched the group to go and help. And when the group entered Polezhaevskaya, there wasn‟t a living soul to be seen. There weren‟t even bodies - just blood everywhere. There you go. And who knows who the hell did it. I, for one, don‟t believe that humans are capable of such a thing.‟ „And what happened to Begovaya?‟ Artyom‟s voice sounded unusual, unlike him. „Nothing happened to them. They saw what the deal was, and exploded the tunnel that led to Polezhaevskaya. I hear forty metres‟ worth of tunnel is collapsed; there‟s no digging through it without special machinery, and even with machinery, I bet you wouldn‟t get very far . . . And where are you going to find that kind of machinery, anyway? Our machinery rotted away fifteen years ago already . ."
Yes, that was an entire page taken from Metro 2033, but asides that, I want to talk about motherfucking books for posts, I'm going to say it now, halfway into that, I would have stopped and said tl;dr, But when this is the entire RP, I'm done with it, posting limits of full pages are annoying too, because I get writer's block easily.
adrian_
julie my beloved 🥰
Okay, I'm going to say it now, I have been using one char for years, this char NEEDS a restart fantasy, but too much work, and in a summary,
Axl is a he/she (Depends on the universe.) time-traveling, dimension jumping alien-human, who's seen the earth's evolution from his/her start in the Medieval Europe, to 6000 AD, Axl has gone from the edges of the universe to the tiniest microbial existence, and once you see the full family tree your jaw will drop, just gotta finish it.
At that time, i would say restrictions are needed, just not that restricted.
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call me rae
Closing this account
@Arion
Did that copy and paste exactly? Because if so...No. I mean I don't care about the length I can write easily two to three pages if I'm on a roll. But there's this little thing called a paragraph break. You cannot have you entire post be one block of text. It just makes everything appear to be one big run on sentence. Even if you have perfect punctuation the lack of breaks in the text tricks the mind into just seeing this massive garbled text of nonsense.
I think you might have uncovered another deal-breaker. I would run screaming from that. Or at the very least demand that they go back and make it into paragraphs.
God I'm having flashbacks to writing stream of consciousness journals in high school. Make the bad memories go away.
Did that copy and paste exactly? Because if so...No. I mean I don't care about the length I can write easily two to three pages if I'm on a roll. But there's this little thing called a paragraph break. You cannot have you entire post be one block of text. It just makes everything appear to be one big run on sentence. Even if you have perfect punctuation the lack of breaks in the text tricks the mind into just seeing this massive garbled text of nonsense.
I think you might have uncovered another deal-breaker. I would run screaming from that. Or at the very least demand that they go back and make it into paragraphs.
God I'm having flashbacks to writing stream of consciousness journals in high school. Make the bad memories go away.
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Thalia_Neko
Ten Thousand Club
This isnt really a "walk away" scenario. This is more a "turn away" scenario. If theres restrictions that keep you from joining the rp right off the bat, then theres no issue that causes you to drop the rp and walk away from it.
Cuz you never started the rp. lol This is just me being pedantic, pay me no heed.
LegoLad659
Fairy Queen
This isnt really a "walk away" scenario. This is more a "turn away" scenario. If theres restrictions that keep you from joining the rp right off the bat, then theres no issue that causes you to drop the rp and walk away from it.
That can be applied to pretty much everything in this thread :smile9:
Thalia_Neko
Ten Thousand Club
Hehe, welp, supes pedantic then!
fattiest fat cat
*sarcasm*
"I have nothing against gays, but..."
(nb4: this specific phrasing is the dealbreaker. i have nothing against str8s
lmfao)
(nb4: this specific phrasing is the dealbreaker. i have nothing against str8s
lmfao)call me rae
Closing this account
"I have nothing against gays, but..."
(nb4: this specific phrasing is the dealbreaker. i have nothing against str8s
Out of curiosity what does nb4 mean. Trying to figure out the acroynm and I don't get it.
As to your actual deal breaker I hate that type of phrase... Like I'm not XX or I will do/play XX, buuuuut.
like no. If you have to qualify your statement with an exception then don't make that statement. No one cares if your uncomfortable with playing gay characters or you only play a specific gender or you don't like fandoms.
So just be honest and own it. Don't try to be PS then turn around and lie like a log. It makes you sound waaay worse when you start justifying stuff.
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Lord Pug
Is Satan a Beagle Puppy?!
Ok, one thing I despise is what people say about my character sheet. I have a set character sheet that makes me feel comfortable like I know enough about the character to create an interesting situation for my character to interact with them. But you have no idea how pissy some people get about typing in pronouns. Like, come on?! Is it really that hard to say "My character's pronouns are he/him/his" because it's not very hard for me or else I wouldn't do it. (Man, I am lazy)
But seriously.
Gender at all seems to be something people get pissy about sometimes. I like to play roles with diverse identities. I'm not always gonna be the straight white cis male for your beautiful asian bisexual trans girl. But some people get really pissy when I play a character that's not male or female (or is male and female). Like, why does my characters' gender matter? Just use the pronouns and you'll be fine. In fact, I don't care too much if you use the wrong pronouns. God.
Personal rant over.
But seriously.
Gender at all seems to be something people get pissy about sometimes. I like to play roles with diverse identities. I'm not always gonna be the straight white cis male for your beautiful asian bisexual trans girl. But some people get really pissy when I play a character that's not male or female (or is male and female). Like, why does my characters' gender matter? Just use the pronouns and you'll be fine. In fact, I don't care too much if you use the wrong pronouns. God.
Personal rant over.
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call me rae
Closing this account
I can speak to why this pisses people off. Because A. they're from an older generation who does not understand the modern trend of pick and choosing from like twenty seven billion different gender identities - slash - orientations
B. they don't understand the question, as in what the hell is a pronoun and why does my character have to have one?
to clarify i personally don't care one way or another. i have just spoken to multitude of people who express one or the other of those exact reactions in response to this issue.
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Faricarnon
New Member
Erotica. Perhaps the most if not one of the most distasteful genres of roleplay, I find it repulsive and sickening to type such a thing with another person over the internet.
Inner Power
One Thousand Club
Pregnancy involving robots.
Melpomene
Writer of Tragedy|Art by ROYTHEART|
Wh-what? That's a thing?
LegoLad659
Fairy Queen
As my family likes to say, "There's a story behind that..." XD
Inner Power
One Thousand Club
Yes. I've been approached at one time to do a thread involving slave robots being knocked up. I saw on another group someone wanting to do a similar type of thread so it brought back memories. Bad ones.
Melpomene
Writer of Tragedy|Art by ROYTHEART|
That's... well that's... huh. I don't even know how that would work. They're robots...
Inner Power
One Thousand Club
Exactly. I turned them down of course.
MedievalMethods
Saturday Night Dragon-Slayer
Deadass Academies. A perfect example of taking the slice of life theme too literally.
This was a Star Wars: The Old Republic RP, set in a Force academy on Tattooii\ne by the way. So, the OP was giving out calls every five minutes that in so and so long there was going to be an event, a pretty basic class. Since this was an academy and all.
So, since I have done virtually no roleplaying in SWTOR before, I was kind of excited. I had these thoughts that it would be epic and he would take the students of a trip of knowledge and learning, intermixed with adventure and Jedi Jutsu, and it would be pretty awesome.
I arrive, there are four students there and a teacher that drones on, and on, and on. And on. Every time he asked something, there was one chick (in the spirit of Hermonie) that raised her hand and answered. Every time he paused to leave the class, the students would talk about the homework from last week -- and that was just the first 10 pages.
So that was me and the Deadass Academy.
Additionally, I've noticed a trend in Star Wars RP circles, that too many Sith are nice, too many Jedi are evil. And all of them are incredibly horny.
This was a Star Wars: The Old Republic RP, set in a Force academy on Tattooii\ne by the way. So, the OP was giving out calls every five minutes that in so and so long there was going to be an event, a pretty basic class. Since this was an academy and all.
So, since I have done virtually no roleplaying in SWTOR before, I was kind of excited. I had these thoughts that it would be epic and he would take the students of a trip of knowledge and learning, intermixed with adventure and Jedi Jutsu, and it would be pretty awesome.
I arrive, there are four students there and a teacher that drones on, and on, and on. And on. Every time he asked something, there was one chick (in the spirit of Hermonie) that raised her hand and answered. Every time he paused to leave the class, the students would talk about the homework from last week -- and that was just the first 10 pages.
So that was me and the Deadass Academy.
Additionally, I've noticed a trend in Star Wars RP circles, that too many Sith are nice, too many Jedi are evil. And all of them are incredibly horny.
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Osthavula
Deliciously insightful one
People enjoy kind-hearted villians a lot. It's enjoyable until everyone's the same.
All of them horny?! What?!
Osthavula
Deliciously insightful one
Just... If I tell you that you made this mistake, like "stop controlling my character's reaction so much without asking" , don't make the same mistakes again.
I've had people who despite my voicing-out continued to do this for a few posts. That was the first time I rejected a RP after a few posts.
I've had people who despite my voicing-out continued to do this for a few posts. That was the first time I rejected a RP after a few posts.
