A Sparkling Zombie
Once bitten, twice sparkling!
Introduction
Oh hi! I'm Sparkles, or Zombie, depending on your perspective. Although I have virtually no history on this site, I have had fun with play-by-post roleplaying for over a decade. Sometimes I game. Mainly I listen to music like a junkie.
What I give:
What I'm seeking:
Samples
Small note: I sometimes copy and paste dialogue from another player's response to make my own flow better. That'll appear in some of these samples.
The Sitch
Do you enjoy games like Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons/Stardew Valley or Rune Factory? Do you sometimes wish you could experience unscripted depth when interacting with the NPCs, be challenged with running a successful business, or feel like courtship is more than giving gifts and pressing A to talk? Well, now you can have any or all of those things!
I'm seeking up to a couple of games with players who want to crave out a niche for their character in a close-knit community. Your character could have a plot of land they want to farm, or they could be trying to run a different business - a bar, an inn, a bakery, or another shop. I will create the characters they will interact with. There'll be friends, bachelor/ettes, rivals, and enemies. The world could range from strictly Earth-like to low fantasy, regardless of whether we keep it more like Story of Seasons or something with more action like Rune Factory.
The premise could be anything like...
- Your character grew bored of city life and wanted to escape to a simpler community. Maybe their friends/family don't exactly approve.
- Your character inherited their grandparent's business upon their death and they've decided to turn over a new leaf.
- Your character is trying to escape something about their old life, and this new town presented a good opportunity.
- Your character grew up in the town, and maybe they have a sullied reputation or the folk don't expect much of them. They've taken over the business previously owned by someone they were close to, and now they hope to change minds.
- The town is in danger of being taken over by a corporation or by another town/kingdom/enemy faction.
- The frontier town needs new blood to help it thrive/protect it, and your character answered the call.
- Something else? I'm open to ideas!
The tone can be lighthearted or something closer to realism with touches of darkness, based on player preferences. Regardless of the tone, the player should expect their character to face conflicts.
What follows are galleries of character art. Maybe they can help inspire. When it comes to the actual play, I'm happy to use real-life face claims or written descriptions, based on the player's preference.
If You're Interested...
Please PM me with your thoughts. What kind of premise do you feel like playing? Is there a particular concept you have in mind for your character? Let's start there and see where the conversation takes us!
Oh hi! I'm Sparkles, or Zombie, depending on your perspective. Although I have virtually no history on this site, I have had fun with play-by-post roleplaying for over a decade. Sometimes I game. Mainly I listen to music like a junkie.
What I give:
- Patience. I may check in if there's been silence for a couple of weeks, but I won't pester, nor will I expect a post simply because we're chatting.
- Humor. I like wit, puns, and keeping OOC chatter lighthearted.
- Adaptability. We're two people trying to roleplay together for the first time. If it turns out something isn't working, I'm happy to see if there are ways to remedy that. Worst case, we decide we're not compatible and move on our merry ways. Similarly, I'm content to make edits if I make a mistake or something.
- Communication. If a post will be delayed, I'll provide notice. If I've lost interest, I'll say something. I can be a bit shy and I'm not the greatest with small talk, but building a friendship can be nice, so I'm happy to indulge in chatter.
- Responses that range anywhere from one paragraph to maybe 600 or so words, depending on a partner's style and what I consider necessary to move a scene forward. I aim for quality over quantity. When GMing, my posts might be shorter than a partner's because I prefer to use distant third person, which means no internal thoughts or revealing anything else that your character couldn't reasonably glean through observation.
- A GM. I want to gain more experience as a Game Master and am happy to take more of a lead within the roleplay.
- Characters. I want to create a breathing world around your character.
- At least one response every 1-2 weeks. Normally, my rate should be closer to at least once every week, but I have real-world obligations and stresses, so I might be busy or, honestly, depressed at times. Naturally, the more thought and detail a response needs, the longer it will take.
What I'm seeking:
- OOC maturity & decency.
- A player of any identity.
- A player who is at least 18. As a 30-year-old, I prefer not writing with minors in a 1x1, especially if there will be romantic content.
- A player with the ability to respond at least once every 1-3 weeks, notwithstanding life's shenanigans.
- A player who can spell and use grammar well, and also be descriptive. They put thought into their words and care about quality more than quantity.
- Responses that each have some kinda hook for me to work with. While I'm happy to take a leadership role within the game, I still need a partner who can help move each scene along.
- IC drama, conflict, tensions. We can keep it lighthearted if that's the preference, but there needs to be a willingness to engage in these plot devices. 100% marshmallow fluff makes me queasy!
- Imperfect characters. Flaws and mistakes are really beautiful and make a character engaging.
- Roleplaying in a thread or PMs. I prefer the former over the latter, if I'm honest, but using PMs is fine. Once we've started posting, I'm open to using Discord for OOC.
- A platonic game or a game with (possible) romance. If the latter, I prefer M/M or M/F, but if the priority isn't romance and there's genuine chemistry, I'm open to F/F.
- Illustrations, real-life face claims, or written descriptions for character appearances. If we use illustrations, I don't have much in the way of anime. It's okay if a partner uses the style for their character, but I might not be able to support it in the rest of the cast.
- Communication and collaboration. I feel like a game goes better when players are willing to be honest and upfront about what they want to do and what's making things less fun for them.
Samples
Small note: I sometimes copy and paste dialogue from another player's response to make my own flow better. That'll appear in some of these samples.
Blanketed by night and crouched behind a bush, Clint believed himself safe in his spying. So he watched. There were the two men who appeared to be...lovers? Clint's brow furrowed in discernment. No, the dwarf appeared confused and injured; the other man, feathered and alarmed--the one he followed? Whom he heard shout for help? That made sense. A third man stared at them, appearing to be coming out of a stupor. Clint squinted and leaned closer. Did he...have horns? The moonlight could be playing tricks, but he wanted to say yes. And was that a bear among them?
He didn't think to look up.
Meanwhile, the earth spoke to him. He only had to listen. With his palms against the ground, vibrations alerted him to another being. Bipedal. A hawk burst through the trees and into the free space in front of the watchtower. Someone followed after it.
"Show yourself, stranger! Friend or foe?"
Clint tensed. He had half the mind to believe the voice targeted the new arrival. Until he located its source. With bow drawn and a stare as piercing as the arrow notched upon it, the man regarded no one else but him. Clint's flesh pricked and foretold of a cold sweat. His jaw clenched. He tried to gauge the distance between them. Earth didn't exactly favor being moved. Experience made throwing up a wall easy, but he'd probably fair better trying to dive out of the arrow's path, if it came down to it.
He didn't want it to. Gods, he didn't want it to.
Believing the man could see him, Clint relinquished his spear and raised his hands, fingers splayed. "Friend," he announced, his voice as sturdy as rock and as rough as an oak's bark. Strong legs lifted him from the shadows of the bushes. Calmly, despite his racing heart, he stepped into the clearing, and also the moonlight, deciding to reveal himself to the group as a whole. There at the fringes he stood, cheeks streaked with dirt and black tattoos decorating his thick neck, exposed above the leather armor he wore. The ink maybe could have denoted a tribal background to those astute in those matters. Some might say "barbarians". To Clint, they had been friends, almost family, lost to various misfortunes over time, until a band of mercenaries had wiped out the remaining numbers and left him alone. That had been a few years ago.
He stared squarely at the one with the bow drawn on him. "Clint Bentham. I saw the feathered one in the sky. I was curious and followed. I mean no harm." He felt naked without his spear. He had his own bow and arrows, both shouldered, but they wouldn't serve him well with these odds. Still, he hoped the group was as, well, non-threatening as half of them appeared.
He didn't think to look up.
Meanwhile, the earth spoke to him. He only had to listen. With his palms against the ground, vibrations alerted him to another being. Bipedal. A hawk burst through the trees and into the free space in front of the watchtower. Someone followed after it.
"Show yourself, stranger! Friend or foe?"
Clint tensed. He had half the mind to believe the voice targeted the new arrival. Until he located its source. With bow drawn and a stare as piercing as the arrow notched upon it, the man regarded no one else but him. Clint's flesh pricked and foretold of a cold sweat. His jaw clenched. He tried to gauge the distance between them. Earth didn't exactly favor being moved. Experience made throwing up a wall easy, but he'd probably fair better trying to dive out of the arrow's path, if it came down to it.
He didn't want it to. Gods, he didn't want it to.
Believing the man could see him, Clint relinquished his spear and raised his hands, fingers splayed. "Friend," he announced, his voice as sturdy as rock and as rough as an oak's bark. Strong legs lifted him from the shadows of the bushes. Calmly, despite his racing heart, he stepped into the clearing, and also the moonlight, deciding to reveal himself to the group as a whole. There at the fringes he stood, cheeks streaked with dirt and black tattoos decorating his thick neck, exposed above the leather armor he wore. The ink maybe could have denoted a tribal background to those astute in those matters. Some might say "barbarians". To Clint, they had been friends, almost family, lost to various misfortunes over time, until a band of mercenaries had wiped out the remaining numbers and left him alone. That had been a few years ago.
He stared squarely at the one with the bow drawn on him. "Clint Bentham. I saw the feathered one in the sky. I was curious and followed. I mean no harm." He felt naked without his spear. He had his own bow and arrows, both shouldered, but they wouldn't serve him well with these odds. Still, he hoped the group was as, well, non-threatening as half of them appeared.
"Hey, we are all made something of ourselves, Toby," Ben said. "Not just me. You did too and so did Charlie."
Toby grunted, almost as if he was considering his brother's words, but really he had already written them off the second they left his mouth. He spent a lot of his shifts cleaning literal shit off toilets. Though he didn't regret becoming a janitor, and didn't detest the dirty work, it didn't signal "making it" at all like becoming a doctor. It was an accomplishment of his brother's that he secretly took pride in, too, choosing to believe Ben might not have gone off to college if it wasn't for being a rock during the most turbulent time of their lives. It was a lowkey thing, manifesting whenever he gushed about Ben's accomplishments to anyone who happened to be around when the mood hit.
But it was a topic that wouldn't go anywhere, and Toby was more interested in Charlie. The fuckface hitched himself up to Ben's bandwagon in an attempt to insult him. It prompted the question: why did Charlie come back? The response was bluff and hot air. Toby grinned, more sincere amusement than mocking. "Ha! That's the smelliest bullshit I ever smelled. If I see strange men stalking around the park, I know where to point them to." Ben tried to mediate and comment about how Vegas sounded fun. Toby shrugged. "I guess. If I went somewhere, it'd be to a cabin in the mountains, or maybe Idaho. I have a buddy that went to that lake-side resort town. Supposed to be beautiful all year round."
As they dug into the pasta and bread, the conversation had shifted to Ben's cooking. "Shit, that all sounds good to me." He didn't mind living off simple cuisine, but it was nice to have someone who could cook something different. He hummed in agreement to Charlie's compliment on Ben's pasta. The way things were falling, it was probably the only thing they'd agree on tonight.
That topic turned out to be short-lived, too. Ben had something to talk about, and apparently Toby would automatically say no if he didn't stop and listen first. If that didn't warrant a pause, he didn't know what did, so he did exactly that, save for slurping a strand of spaghetti, the force of his sucking so immense that it whipped up and smacked him on the cheek, leaving a spot of sauce there like a red mole. His brow furrowed when Ben finished. "That's the best plan you came up with since you came back. Do it. Get out of here. You can do better than this trash heap." It was a simple answer. It was a no-brainer, so he didn't understand why Ben acted like he needed to dance around the possibility, or that Ben thought he'd jump down his throat and say no. He grinned, a little forced, as he reached out with a loose fist and playfully, softly, jabbed at Ben's arm. "Hell you worrying about it for? Charlie might turn his back on you, but your big bro won't. We're blood. I'll still let you visit, and I'll come pester the shit out of you every chance I get."
Sometimes Toby could listen between the lines. Sometimes he couldn't. Someone who had been around him long enough, like Ben, might suspect he picked and chose what he took at face value. But that wasn't the case in this instance, because there wasn't anything to interpret. He shifted in his seat. It was just to get comfortable. That was all.
Toby grunted, almost as if he was considering his brother's words, but really he had already written them off the second they left his mouth. He spent a lot of his shifts cleaning literal shit off toilets. Though he didn't regret becoming a janitor, and didn't detest the dirty work, it didn't signal "making it" at all like becoming a doctor. It was an accomplishment of his brother's that he secretly took pride in, too, choosing to believe Ben might not have gone off to college if it wasn't for being a rock during the most turbulent time of their lives. It was a lowkey thing, manifesting whenever he gushed about Ben's accomplishments to anyone who happened to be around when the mood hit.
But it was a topic that wouldn't go anywhere, and Toby was more interested in Charlie. The fuckface hitched himself up to Ben's bandwagon in an attempt to insult him. It prompted the question: why did Charlie come back? The response was bluff and hot air. Toby grinned, more sincere amusement than mocking. "Ha! That's the smelliest bullshit I ever smelled. If I see strange men stalking around the park, I know where to point them to." Ben tried to mediate and comment about how Vegas sounded fun. Toby shrugged. "I guess. If I went somewhere, it'd be to a cabin in the mountains, or maybe Idaho. I have a buddy that went to that lake-side resort town. Supposed to be beautiful all year round."
As they dug into the pasta and bread, the conversation had shifted to Ben's cooking. "Shit, that all sounds good to me." He didn't mind living off simple cuisine, but it was nice to have someone who could cook something different. He hummed in agreement to Charlie's compliment on Ben's pasta. The way things were falling, it was probably the only thing they'd agree on tonight.
That topic turned out to be short-lived, too. Ben had something to talk about, and apparently Toby would automatically say no if he didn't stop and listen first. If that didn't warrant a pause, he didn't know what did, so he did exactly that, save for slurping a strand of spaghetti, the force of his sucking so immense that it whipped up and smacked him on the cheek, leaving a spot of sauce there like a red mole. His brow furrowed when Ben finished. "That's the best plan you came up with since you came back. Do it. Get out of here. You can do better than this trash heap." It was a simple answer. It was a no-brainer, so he didn't understand why Ben acted like he needed to dance around the possibility, or that Ben thought he'd jump down his throat and say no. He grinned, a little forced, as he reached out with a loose fist and playfully, softly, jabbed at Ben's arm. "Hell you worrying about it for? Charlie might turn his back on you, but your big bro won't. We're blood. I'll still let you visit, and I'll come pester the shit out of you every chance I get."
Sometimes Toby could listen between the lines. Sometimes he couldn't. Someone who had been around him long enough, like Ben, might suspect he picked and chose what he took at face value. But that wasn't the case in this instance, because there wasn't anything to interpret. He shifted in his seat. It was just to get comfortable. That was all.
When Darius asks his question, Versi's gaze lowers to that powerful chest again. The small tip of his tongue pokes out, running the length of his bottom lip, as if considering something not quite present. Something like relief ripples from it, like someone sitting down after being upon their feet for a day long. "I saw splashes of wine." Clearing, his eyes find Darius'. "Your search will have you traveling the three seas much like your greater destiny, honored soldier. Hold the memory of your family close. It and your might will see you through the challenging times ahead."
From among the group, Kyrah adds: "I'm familiar with a temple in the Old Woods. It's maybe half a day's journey from here."
From among the group, Kyrah adds: "I'm familiar with a temple in the Old Woods. It's maybe half a day's journey from here."
"I'm soaring tonight!" Yagra's voice roared over the din of the tavern. "Who else wants to challenge me?" Those not turned away from her table could see dark eyes fall upon the back of a head with black hair. "You, other half-orc! What do you say?" She grinned.
Was it intentional or coincidence? Her tone didn't disclose the truth.
Was it intentional or coincidence? Her tone didn't disclose the truth.
Unflinching, Yagra finds Kuvo's eyes as soon as he turns towards her. Tiny tusks poke out from her smirk. They give it sharpness. Certain expressions no doubt run in the family.
The merriness of her spectators deadens to silence. A few shift uncomfortably, and they are the ones to leave to find other amusement. The rest sniff drama and linger.
A deep exhale is the only noise between them when Kuvo sits. The cacophony coming from the rest of the tavern is the little grace he's given.
A few heartbeats mark the time that passes when he greets her. She stares at his smile. Her posture matches his. "Heh. The Watch has got you trained good. They could've worked on your manners more, but I bet they thought it'd be wasted effort on a half-orc like you." She crooks her neck to the side. It exposes the tattoo there of a black flying snake.
Kuvo tenses a little. "Blood's made it harder. But I'm not talking Orc blood." He crooks his neck, too.
Yagra's smirk almost falters and her jaw almost sets until she realizes what he's doing, about as soon as he does. He shakes his head and sighs.
"Heh. I see. So that's it. You were gonna come in and leave and pretend you didn't see your big sis the whole time?"
"That was the plan. Unless you're ready to talk going straight, then I've got a whole binder of notes on where we'll get started." There's a hint of eagerness in his eyes at the idea, but his smile remains reserved.
Yagra smiles. It's a rare sight on her face, but it's fleeting and turns daring--playful, in that half-orc way. She puts her elbow on the table and holds her open palm above its center. "One match. I challenged you. Beat me and I'll give you my answer."
"Always a hassle with you, ain't it?"
Excitement sparks in Yagra's eyes when he clasps his hand in hers. "Nothing's changed. Not with me or you." She turns her head to one of the spectators, ignoring that they've been placing bets. "You. Count us off."
They begin.
Muscles strain but neither budge. "You've been away a while, so let me catch you up." She grunts. Sometimes, it breaks her words as she continues. "Feng misses you. He tries to hide it, but I see it in his eyes. Renum still boils when he hears your name. But it's funny. He keeps tabs on you. He said you got promoted. Con...grats!"
She finds an extra well of strength and tips the balance. Just like that and the match is over, Kuvo's hand pressed against the wood grain of the table. Yagra grins. "And I'm still your better." She let's him go in favor of her beer. Although she picks it up, she still has more to say. "City work softened you." She leans in towards him. Her voice lowers, and for the first time since their reunion's began, she turns serious. "Mom's struggling. With Dad laying low and the gang wars going on, she needs us to do what we can. I'm staying put. For our family."
The merriness of her spectators deadens to silence. A few shift uncomfortably, and they are the ones to leave to find other amusement. The rest sniff drama and linger.
A deep exhale is the only noise between them when Kuvo sits. The cacophony coming from the rest of the tavern is the little grace he's given.
A few heartbeats mark the time that passes when he greets her. She stares at his smile. Her posture matches his. "Heh. The Watch has got you trained good. They could've worked on your manners more, but I bet they thought it'd be wasted effort on a half-orc like you." She crooks her neck to the side. It exposes the tattoo there of a black flying snake.
Kuvo tenses a little. "Blood's made it harder. But I'm not talking Orc blood." He crooks his neck, too.
Yagra's smirk almost falters and her jaw almost sets until she realizes what he's doing, about as soon as he does. He shakes his head and sighs.
"Heh. I see. So that's it. You were gonna come in and leave and pretend you didn't see your big sis the whole time?"
"That was the plan. Unless you're ready to talk going straight, then I've got a whole binder of notes on where we'll get started." There's a hint of eagerness in his eyes at the idea, but his smile remains reserved.
Yagra smiles. It's a rare sight on her face, but it's fleeting and turns daring--playful, in that half-orc way. She puts her elbow on the table and holds her open palm above its center. "One match. I challenged you. Beat me and I'll give you my answer."
"Always a hassle with you, ain't it?"
Excitement sparks in Yagra's eyes when he clasps his hand in hers. "Nothing's changed. Not with me or you." She turns her head to one of the spectators, ignoring that they've been placing bets. "You. Count us off."
They begin.
Muscles strain but neither budge. "You've been away a while, so let me catch you up." She grunts. Sometimes, it breaks her words as she continues. "Feng misses you. He tries to hide it, but I see it in his eyes. Renum still boils when he hears your name. But it's funny. He keeps tabs on you. He said you got promoted. Con...grats!"
She finds an extra well of strength and tips the balance. Just like that and the match is over, Kuvo's hand pressed against the wood grain of the table. Yagra grins. "And I'm still your better." She let's him go in favor of her beer. Although she picks it up, she still has more to say. "City work softened you." She leans in towards him. Her voice lowers, and for the first time since their reunion's began, she turns serious. "Mom's struggling. With Dad laying low and the gang wars going on, she needs us to do what we can. I'm staying put. For our family."
The Sitch
Do you enjoy games like Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons/Stardew Valley or Rune Factory? Do you sometimes wish you could experience unscripted depth when interacting with the NPCs, be challenged with running a successful business, or feel like courtship is more than giving gifts and pressing A to talk? Well, now you can have any or all of those things!
I'm seeking up to a couple of games with players who want to crave out a niche for their character in a close-knit community. Your character could have a plot of land they want to farm, or they could be trying to run a different business - a bar, an inn, a bakery, or another shop. I will create the characters they will interact with. There'll be friends, bachelor/ettes, rivals, and enemies. The world could range from strictly Earth-like to low fantasy, regardless of whether we keep it more like Story of Seasons or something with more action like Rune Factory.
The premise could be anything like...
- Your character grew bored of city life and wanted to escape to a simpler community. Maybe their friends/family don't exactly approve.
- Your character inherited their grandparent's business upon their death and they've decided to turn over a new leaf.
- Your character is trying to escape something about their old life, and this new town presented a good opportunity.
- Your character grew up in the town, and maybe they have a sullied reputation or the folk don't expect much of them. They've taken over the business previously owned by someone they were close to, and now they hope to change minds.
- The town is in danger of being taken over by a corporation or by another town/kingdom/enemy faction.
- The frontier town needs new blood to help it thrive/protect it, and your character answered the call.
- Something else? I'm open to ideas!
The tone can be lighthearted or something closer to realism with touches of darkness, based on player preferences. Regardless of the tone, the player should expect their character to face conflicts.
What follows are galleries of character art. Maybe they can help inspire. When it comes to the actual play, I'm happy to use real-life face claims or written descriptions, based on the player's preference.
If You're Interested...
Please PM me with your thoughts. What kind of premise do you feel like playing? Is there a particular concept you have in mind for your character? Let's start there and see where the conversation takes us!
