TucanSam
Junior Member
Hello everybody. This is my first time posting here for a one x one so I will try to keep things as concise as possible. I am currently in the mood for some new roleplays. There are certain genres that I enjoy doing more than others, but as long as the plot is interesting to me I do not usually mind branching out to fo things I do not often do. That being said, there are some things I just do not enjoy, so please do not take offense if I do not like the same things you do.
To give you a clear idea of the stuff I normally enjoy doing, here is a short list:
Medieval/Fantasy
Fantasy
Medieval
Modern Fantasy
Modern
Noire
Steampunk
Sci-fi etc.
I could go on for much longer than is necessary, but you should get the general idea.
Since I am looking for someone with quite a bit of skill I will be asking you to submit a sample of your writing to me either by pm or in this thread if you are interested. I'll include some (rather old) Samples of my writing below. I'm not asking for your best work, or even something you are proud of. I honestly don't even remember writing most of my samples below. But a good idea of your general skill would be nice.
I've also included a couple of ideas that exist in my head a s stories I am currently thinktanking, or some that I may be developing in the hopes of writing solo someday. I warn their descriptions are very rough, and may be out of date as they change very often as I develop them.
As always, I am open to any ideas anyone else has and of course am open to creating something entirely original. Thanks for your time.
This idea is based off of a book idea I am/was working on for quite a while. The world is divided into a few different religions, the most prevalent bein to the Gods of Life and Death. Every few hundred years, the Gods grow bored and decide to leave the prosperity of humanity up to a game. They reincarnate a pair of demi-gods that represent the Aspects of Life and Death, and task them each with a certain mission. Whichever succeeds first will decide the fortune of humanity until the next reincarnation; if Death wins, famine and plague will spread, and if Life wins Humanity will boom and prosper.
The story is malleable from there, but in my own novel type version, the Aspect of Life and Death have gone through several, several cycles, and recently had been working together to try and figure out a way to put an end to the cycles. The only problem is that with each re-incarnation, they lose the memories of their past lives for the most part. From there it's just world building and plot creating.
I left this one a little vague because it can work as both and has a lot of room for change and adaptation.
In the Arthurian model I have in mind, Arthur has fallen ill and Lancelot is sent out in order to fetch a cure from a distant land. Before he can return, the sorceress Morgaine apprehends him and holds him for ransom. The queen does not know what to do, but heeding the advice of Merlin, agrees to send his apprentice with one of her remaining Knights to try and free Lancelot from Morgaine's clutches and bring back the cure for the King.
A different, non-arthurian based roleplay could be generally the same, though would be open to a lot more change than the Arthurian naturally since it would all be original.
If you have any different ideas, plots or craving, feel free to suggest them to me. These ideas are pretty old, though I'd still be up for trying them out. They are also most likely written horribly, but I honestly don't feel like re-writing the synopsis for them. I hope you get the gist of the story at the very least.
Samples -
I don't save much of my modern writing, so the only samples I have are pretty old. They should give you a decent sense of my overall writing skill, at least.
Sand. The city's gate groaned and creaked against the wind as if it may cave in at any moment, struggling against the nature and the elements outside of the capitol city of Valencia. James looked up at those monstrous walls of rock and iron, and was reminded what he hated most about the lands outside of this city, what he had always hated most. It was the sand. Tiny specks of dirt that fell and ruined whatever they wanted to. Just like the sand dwellers they took after.
A shake of his head brought his mind back to where it should be. Talus had always had an open policy for refugees and outcasts, even here in the capitol. Through war, Famine and disease it had always been their policy to take in whoever and whatever needed them to; Lamirians were no exception despite the prejudices. And that's all they really were, if he was being honest with himself. Racial prejudices that most had been raised on. You couldn't escape them, not even here in the slums by the cities edge.
Were they unfounded? In some cases. James couldn't honestly say he had ever met a bad Lamirian, nor could he say he had met an entirely cheerful and good one either. They were living creatures. There were bad eggs in any bunch that seemed to be out to ruin the reputation of the rest, he knew that. Humans were no different. But bad blood tended to transcend the ages, and there had been plenty between their two nations. Which made the position he was in all the less desirable.
The King was sick, had been sick for a while. Despite what you thought of the current Monarchy, nobody disputed the fact that a break down in the chain of command would lead only to chaos and death. That's what they were facing. Chaos. Though the king was well into his fortieth year, he had produced no heir, and had not been healthy enough to for a while. Should he pass away and leave the bloodline broken, the succession plan destroyed? Nobody really wanted to consider the aftermath of that.
Doctors had no answers though. Court magicians had no magical cures. If there was a remedy for the Kings ailment, it was not in Valencia, not in Talus. Bordering nations had offered their help, but none had succeeded. Since the last great war of the lands, Science had been slow and plodding in it's advancement. Medicine had taken a backseat to commerce, to engineering, and only now were they realizing the foolishness of their mistakes. Nobody had any answers. Except the Lamerians.
James cringed at that thought, but could not escape it. The bad blood that may exist between nations was at its peak when it came to Lamir and Talus. A broken Alliance, failed treaties, years of strife. You could take your pick of reasons why they had never gotten along, it made no difference. The desert shapeshifters lived long lives, and their science flourished. The few friends the nation had left inside had promised an answer, a cure. The only problem was getting there. Which led to his current situation, one he could only shake his head in disbelief at.
Lieutenant General Amir Mohad was a high ranking official in just about any part of the government you could find. He had power, fame, fortune and more importantly, influence. As a distant relative, James should have been afforded all of the advantages that came with that. But a tree also has withered branches, and James had been born on the wrong side of the family. A black sheep had no chance to rise in the military, no chance to gain a better life. He was tolerated because he had not disappeared yet. Aided as little as possible, simply because they had no answer for what else to do with him. Until now.
This trip, into hostile territory with very few guards, was not given a high rate of success. James was no fool, he knew that more people expected the group to perish out there in the desert than expected them to actually come back. So why had he volunteered?
Banners and signs for shops fluttered colorfully around him as he walked mindlessly towards his destination. Why had he come? James had asked himself that question more than a few times over the weeks of planning. There was no easy answer. If they succeeded, their would be significant rewards. His life would take a trajectory that not even his unfortunate blood lines could slow down. But had he come into this thinking he might really have a chance of pulling it off? Maybe.
James took a left out of the market, following the rapid line of increasingly barren and run down homes to the darker part of the city. In his tattered cloak and garments, nobody really cared what he did. Just stay out of their way. Just as he had for everyone else his entire life. That was probably the key here. James was tired of being ignored, being pushed to the back and side for any promotion, any assignment. He had talent, there was no boasting in that fact. Talent meant little in a monarchy though. Why had he volunteered? That answer was plain and simple. Why not?
Was death in the desert any better than death in the city? James would never be picked for a position of command, would never have a house in the good part of town. Any woman of reputation would look down on him as scum of the earth. Why not. If he succeeded he could come back, change his life for the better. And if he failed? Death out there was the same as life out here.
Those thoughts led him to the tiny pub in the back of the slums. He knew little about who he was meeting here or why, only that they would make contct when the time was right. Cloak and dagger bullshit common of the intelligence community. James no longer cared. The people planning this trip may have had no faith in its success, but James did. His hand reached out to push open the small wooden door with that thought in mind. Few eyes turned to greet him as he took a seat near the back. This trip would succeed. He was willing to bet his life on it.
<Greetings, Daniel.>
The soft, metallic voice cut into his dark sleep like a knife through a veil.
<We hope your sleep was as restful as we hoped it would be.>
We? Who is we? His silent question went unanswered. Machines could not read his mind after all, and some sort of feeding tube that had been snaked through his through kept him from speaking verbally. It was the only wire attached to his body, the only thing restricting him in any way, and yet still he could not move. The muscles in his arms refused his commands just as stubbornly as the muscles in his legs did. All he could do was lie in this almost complete darkness. There were worse things to experience, and yet it gave him a sense of paranoia. He began to panic.
<Do not try to move. For your own wellness your body has been temporarily paralyzed. You will be released soon enough. But first->
The surface below him began to move, sliding with a silent hiss until he was several feet from where he was. Unseen a metal pole extended above him, stopped inches from his eyes and extended further. The ends fanned out into satellite cups and hovered gently over his face.
<Close your eyes.>
There was no emotion in the voice, no question. It was a command that whoever, whatever it was, expected to be followed. A soft light, no brighter then a dim digital clock display shone over his eyes. It was agony. Every nerve in his face lit up in pain, yet he refused to close his eyes. No matter how painful it was, he could not look away. Could not close his eyes. It was light, and light was life. Irrational fear that if he closed his eyes the light would disappear took over, and he stared at it defiantly even as his eyes began to burn.
<Close your eyes Now>
He refused. The voice gave what could have very well been a metallic sigh, and out of the darkness a second pole appeared. This ones end was not rounded as the first one had been, and no satellite dishes expanded from it. Instead a long, very sharp looking needle lowered towards his eyes, and he closed them in reflex. It was all the time the machine needed. The light began to flash, strobing faster and faster until, finally, it shut off. And for a moment, he remembered everything. Memories flashed through his mind violently. Images he knew, but couldn't comprehend just from the sheer speed of which they moved. And then they were gone, buried somewhere deep into his subconscious where he could no reach them. He was no one, nobody. No memories, no past, no future. He simply existed, like the machine that for so long had kept him alive.
<Download complete. Welcome to the New World, Daniel.>
The platform beneath him began to raise, until he was practically standing. Unseen restraints on his muscles released, and for the first time in more years then anyone could remember, he was standing on his own. Or falling for that matter. The floor beneath him gave way with a loud click. Air hissed through cracks as the screen above him slowly opened. With a shudder he fell forward to the ground, the pod behind him closing up and disappearing down a track as another took its place.
Thump, Thump.
A deep bass noise reverberated through deep, sending ripples of sensation across what was left of Anne's body. This was not the first time that she had heard it, the noise had seemed to come and go for the majority of her time in this place, though she had never been able to figure out where it had come from. A drum perhaps? Exaggerated droplets of water? As loud as it was, there seemed to be no point of origin, no cause or reason. Just the slow, steady rhythmic pounding.
Thump, Thump.
Anne rolled her eyes in deep frustration. The sensation that reverberated over her head and neck may have felt good under different circumstances; sort of a forced massage. But here and now? It was just annoying. A reminder of how she was trapped, motionless, helpless in this void. If she'd been able to feel it, she was sure that it would be giving her a headache right now. At least the pulses were short, and for the first time she was glad that most of her body had disappeared.
Thump, Thump.
Annoyance began to turn to rage as her nerves began to fray. What was the point of this? Was her existence itself not torture enough? Was a lack of body, of spatial awareness and sensation not harsh enough punishment for what she had done in her life? Whatever she had been, whatever she had done, Anne was sure it could not have been bad enough to endure this hell. Though most memories of her past had long since been erased, she remembered leading a quiet, solitary lifestyle. Keeping to herself. Enjoying her own company.
Thump, Thump.
This wasn't right.
Thump, Thump.
Rage slowly became hopelessness. When this noise had appeared it had served to break the quiet stillness of the void. It's brief appearance and sudden departure were both cause for joy and despair. Something else was out there, she often thought to herself. Maybe the dark void around her wasn't so empty after all. Maybe there was something else out there, something alive. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
Thump, Thump.
But with most of her body now destroyed, that hope was extinguished and this annoying beat only served as a taunting reminder of the time she had lost. With each beat she felt a little more of herself disappear, with each beat the darkness seemed to get darker. This was the end, and Anne could do nothing about it.
Thump, Thump.
No, not nothing. This may be the end. Her first life and now her second may have come to a senseless, quick end. But Anne had never been a quitter. She had never given up or backed down without making her mind clear. So if she was going to go down, she was damn well going to make sure that whatever was out there knew she wasn't happy about the situation.
Thump, Thump.
The void swallowed any sound, except for that damned drum beat. Even if it hadn't, with no lungs and no throat to make sound anything she did would be pointless regardless. But this was her outlet, the only one she had left; the only way for her to express her rage, her grief, her guilt and her frustration. Anne began to curse, as loud and as long as she could, unleashing every dark and deplorable phrase she had ever heard or seen.
Thump, Thump
For more information, feel free to visit my website at penguinsdancehence.weebly.com
The story is malleable from there, but in my own novel type version, the Aspect of Life and Death have gone through several, several cycles, and recently had been working together to try and figure out a way to put an end to the cycles. The only problem is that with each re-incarnation, they lose the memories of their past lives for the most part. From there it's just world building and plot creating.
I left this one a little vague because it can work as both and has a lot of room for change and adaptation.
In the Arthurian model I have in mind, Arthur has fallen ill and Lancelot is sent out in order to fetch a cure from a distant land. Before he can return, the sorceress Morgaine apprehends him and holds him for ransom. The queen does not know what to do, but heeding the advice of Merlin, agrees to send his apprentice with one of her remaining Knights to try and free Lancelot from Morgaine's clutches and bring back the cure for the King.
A different, non-arthurian based roleplay could be generally the same, though would be open to a lot more change than the Arthurian naturally since it would all be original.
If you have any different ideas, plots or craving, feel free to suggest them to me. These ideas are pretty old, though I'd still be up for trying them out. They are also most likely written horribly, but I honestly don't feel like re-writing the synopsis for them. I hope you get the gist of the story at the very least.
Samples -
I don't save much of my modern writing, so the only samples I have are pretty old. They should give you a decent sense of my overall writing skill, at least.
Sand. The city's gate groaned and creaked against the wind as if it may cave in at any moment, struggling against the nature and the elements outside of the capitol city of Valencia. James looked up at those monstrous walls of rock and iron, and was reminded what he hated most about the lands outside of this city, what he had always hated most. It was the sand. Tiny specks of dirt that fell and ruined whatever they wanted to. Just like the sand dwellers they took after.
A shake of his head brought his mind back to where it should be. Talus had always had an open policy for refugees and outcasts, even here in the capitol. Through war, Famine and disease it had always been their policy to take in whoever and whatever needed them to; Lamirians were no exception despite the prejudices. And that's all they really were, if he was being honest with himself. Racial prejudices that most had been raised on. You couldn't escape them, not even here in the slums by the cities edge.
Were they unfounded? In some cases. James couldn't honestly say he had ever met a bad Lamirian, nor could he say he had met an entirely cheerful and good one either. They were living creatures. There were bad eggs in any bunch that seemed to be out to ruin the reputation of the rest, he knew that. Humans were no different. But bad blood tended to transcend the ages, and there had been plenty between their two nations. Which made the position he was in all the less desirable.
The King was sick, had been sick for a while. Despite what you thought of the current Monarchy, nobody disputed the fact that a break down in the chain of command would lead only to chaos and death. That's what they were facing. Chaos. Though the king was well into his fortieth year, he had produced no heir, and had not been healthy enough to for a while. Should he pass away and leave the bloodline broken, the succession plan destroyed? Nobody really wanted to consider the aftermath of that.
Doctors had no answers though. Court magicians had no magical cures. If there was a remedy for the Kings ailment, it was not in Valencia, not in Talus. Bordering nations had offered their help, but none had succeeded. Since the last great war of the lands, Science had been slow and plodding in it's advancement. Medicine had taken a backseat to commerce, to engineering, and only now were they realizing the foolishness of their mistakes. Nobody had any answers. Except the Lamerians.
James cringed at that thought, but could not escape it. The bad blood that may exist between nations was at its peak when it came to Lamir and Talus. A broken Alliance, failed treaties, years of strife. You could take your pick of reasons why they had never gotten along, it made no difference. The desert shapeshifters lived long lives, and their science flourished. The few friends the nation had left inside had promised an answer, a cure. The only problem was getting there. Which led to his current situation, one he could only shake his head in disbelief at.
Lieutenant General Amir Mohad was a high ranking official in just about any part of the government you could find. He had power, fame, fortune and more importantly, influence. As a distant relative, James should have been afforded all of the advantages that came with that. But a tree also has withered branches, and James had been born on the wrong side of the family. A black sheep had no chance to rise in the military, no chance to gain a better life. He was tolerated because he had not disappeared yet. Aided as little as possible, simply because they had no answer for what else to do with him. Until now.
This trip, into hostile territory with very few guards, was not given a high rate of success. James was no fool, he knew that more people expected the group to perish out there in the desert than expected them to actually come back. So why had he volunteered?
Banners and signs for shops fluttered colorfully around him as he walked mindlessly towards his destination. Why had he come? James had asked himself that question more than a few times over the weeks of planning. There was no easy answer. If they succeeded, their would be significant rewards. His life would take a trajectory that not even his unfortunate blood lines could slow down. But had he come into this thinking he might really have a chance of pulling it off? Maybe.
James took a left out of the market, following the rapid line of increasingly barren and run down homes to the darker part of the city. In his tattered cloak and garments, nobody really cared what he did. Just stay out of their way. Just as he had for everyone else his entire life. That was probably the key here. James was tired of being ignored, being pushed to the back and side for any promotion, any assignment. He had talent, there was no boasting in that fact. Talent meant little in a monarchy though. Why had he volunteered? That answer was plain and simple. Why not?
Was death in the desert any better than death in the city? James would never be picked for a position of command, would never have a house in the good part of town. Any woman of reputation would look down on him as scum of the earth. Why not. If he succeeded he could come back, change his life for the better. And if he failed? Death out there was the same as life out here.
Those thoughts led him to the tiny pub in the back of the slums. He knew little about who he was meeting here or why, only that they would make contct when the time was right. Cloak and dagger bullshit common of the intelligence community. James no longer cared. The people planning this trip may have had no faith in its success, but James did. His hand reached out to push open the small wooden door with that thought in mind. Few eyes turned to greet him as he took a seat near the back. This trip would succeed. He was willing to bet his life on it.
<Greetings, Daniel.>
The soft, metallic voice cut into his dark sleep like a knife through a veil.
<We hope your sleep was as restful as we hoped it would be.>
We? Who is we? His silent question went unanswered. Machines could not read his mind after all, and some sort of feeding tube that had been snaked through his through kept him from speaking verbally. It was the only wire attached to his body, the only thing restricting him in any way, and yet still he could not move. The muscles in his arms refused his commands just as stubbornly as the muscles in his legs did. All he could do was lie in this almost complete darkness. There were worse things to experience, and yet it gave him a sense of paranoia. He began to panic.
<Do not try to move. For your own wellness your body has been temporarily paralyzed. You will be released soon enough. But first->
The surface below him began to move, sliding with a silent hiss until he was several feet from where he was. Unseen a metal pole extended above him, stopped inches from his eyes and extended further. The ends fanned out into satellite cups and hovered gently over his face.
<Close your eyes.>
There was no emotion in the voice, no question. It was a command that whoever, whatever it was, expected to be followed. A soft light, no brighter then a dim digital clock display shone over his eyes. It was agony. Every nerve in his face lit up in pain, yet he refused to close his eyes. No matter how painful it was, he could not look away. Could not close his eyes. It was light, and light was life. Irrational fear that if he closed his eyes the light would disappear took over, and he stared at it defiantly even as his eyes began to burn.
<Close your eyes Now>
He refused. The voice gave what could have very well been a metallic sigh, and out of the darkness a second pole appeared. This ones end was not rounded as the first one had been, and no satellite dishes expanded from it. Instead a long, very sharp looking needle lowered towards his eyes, and he closed them in reflex. It was all the time the machine needed. The light began to flash, strobing faster and faster until, finally, it shut off. And for a moment, he remembered everything. Memories flashed through his mind violently. Images he knew, but couldn't comprehend just from the sheer speed of which they moved. And then they were gone, buried somewhere deep into his subconscious where he could no reach them. He was no one, nobody. No memories, no past, no future. He simply existed, like the machine that for so long had kept him alive.
<Download complete. Welcome to the New World, Daniel.>
The platform beneath him began to raise, until he was practically standing. Unseen restraints on his muscles released, and for the first time in more years then anyone could remember, he was standing on his own. Or falling for that matter. The floor beneath him gave way with a loud click. Air hissed through cracks as the screen above him slowly opened. With a shudder he fell forward to the ground, the pod behind him closing up and disappearing down a track as another took its place.
Thump, Thump.
A deep bass noise reverberated through deep, sending ripples of sensation across what was left of Anne's body. This was not the first time that she had heard it, the noise had seemed to come and go for the majority of her time in this place, though she had never been able to figure out where it had come from. A drum perhaps? Exaggerated droplets of water? As loud as it was, there seemed to be no point of origin, no cause or reason. Just the slow, steady rhythmic pounding.
Thump, Thump.
Anne rolled her eyes in deep frustration. The sensation that reverberated over her head and neck may have felt good under different circumstances; sort of a forced massage. But here and now? It was just annoying. A reminder of how she was trapped, motionless, helpless in this void. If she'd been able to feel it, she was sure that it would be giving her a headache right now. At least the pulses were short, and for the first time she was glad that most of her body had disappeared.
Thump, Thump.
Annoyance began to turn to rage as her nerves began to fray. What was the point of this? Was her existence itself not torture enough? Was a lack of body, of spatial awareness and sensation not harsh enough punishment for what she had done in her life? Whatever she had been, whatever she had done, Anne was sure it could not have been bad enough to endure this hell. Though most memories of her past had long since been erased, she remembered leading a quiet, solitary lifestyle. Keeping to herself. Enjoying her own company.
Thump, Thump.
This wasn't right.
Thump, Thump.
Rage slowly became hopelessness. When this noise had appeared it had served to break the quiet stillness of the void. It's brief appearance and sudden departure were both cause for joy and despair. Something else was out there, she often thought to herself. Maybe the dark void around her wasn't so empty after all. Maybe there was something else out there, something alive. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
Thump, Thump.
But with most of her body now destroyed, that hope was extinguished and this annoying beat only served as a taunting reminder of the time she had lost. With each beat she felt a little more of herself disappear, with each beat the darkness seemed to get darker. This was the end, and Anne could do nothing about it.
Thump, Thump.
No, not nothing. This may be the end. Her first life and now her second may have come to a senseless, quick end. But Anne had never been a quitter. She had never given up or backed down without making her mind clear. So if she was going to go down, she was damn well going to make sure that whatever was out there knew she wasn't happy about the situation.
Thump, Thump.
The void swallowed any sound, except for that damned drum beat. Even if it hadn't, with no lungs and no throat to make sound anything she did would be pointless regardless. But this was her outlet, the only one she had left; the only way for her to express her rage, her grief, her guilt and her frustration. Anne began to curse, as loud and as long as she could, unleashing every dark and deplorable phrase she had ever heard or seen.
Thump, Thump
For more information, feel free to visit my website at penguinsdancehence.weebly.com
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