Simdroid
Sweet Dreams
Hello friend! I’m Simdroid but call me whatever jives your boat. Like most of you, I’m here looking for RP partners. Perhaps one or two long-term homies, because you know, two heads are better than one.
I’m a full-time student so I can’t be online 24/7, but I promise to reply when I can. I generally reply at the very least once a week. Other than that, I’d say I’m a pretty quirky person. I like art – drawing is my fave hobby aside from reading and writing. I make paper crafts from time to time. And I’m completely in love with technology, robots, and AI.
Personally, I write in third-person, past-tense, paragraph format and would prefer a partner who reciprocates this style. In terms of literacy, I’d say I’m capable of writing along the range of semi-literate/lazy-literate to advanced literate. As a warning, I do lean towards the advanced side and write lengthy posts. While I don’t care about word counts, I do care about the quality of writing. Counter to popular opinions, I love, love, love reading descriptive and/or purple prose. Like, let me immerse myself in our story, yo! That said, if you’re looking for someone who writes quick and daily responses, then, we aren’t equally matched. I prefer to take my time writing creatively and I’m kind of a perfectionist so I reply slow as molasses. But I’m OOC chatter friendly and I’d love to get to know you. Let’s be writing buddies and internet friends, yes?
Oh and one last important thing… If you’re interested, please PM me as opposed to responding below. Please include a writing sample and state which pairing, prompt, and/or plot, you’re interested in. I’d prefer to keep this thread as neat and tidy as possible!
Thanks a bunch!
- I tend to have a slight preference for the female muse because it is where I'm most comfortable, my own gender. But I'm equally capable of playing males, non-binary, and/or any romantic/aromantic orientation.
- I’m very open to creating multiple characters. Doubling and tripling is fine. The more, the merrier, right?
- I like to plot things out heavily and have some collaboration before moving to the actual role-play. Let’s build a world together. Create a rich lore and forge strong, rounded characters. Please, be open to discussions.
- I’m open to all genres from ancient history to slice of life, but I’m really more drawn to action, sci-fi, mysteries, horror, and urban fantasy. But honestly, hit me up with all your ideas. I can be fairly flexible.
- For fandoms specifically, I enjoy playing OCs rather than canons. I don’t mind it if you wanted to play a canon, but I tend to be picky with the canons I choose to play and take more creative approaches to them. If you’re super-strict about canon personalities/histories, then, it’s best for us to play OCs instead.
- For character references, I don’t have a preference when it comes to pictures. Anime, semi-realistic art, real people/models. You chose. In fact, written descriptions work just as well. Let your imagination run free!
- While I like a good love story, I’m enjoy realism a lot more. When it comes to relationships, I play it by ear and want it to develop naturally. Instant romance is an instant no, no. Besides, I’m perfectly fine with platonic and antagonistic relationships too. No need to force romance on everything people!
- I do not write explicit scenes. More importantly, the rules don’t allow for it. If you’re seeking a very mature role-play, please go elsewhere. That being said, I don’t mind reading gore or having violence in the story. Again, just be mindful of the extremes.
- I consider communication paramount. If you lose interest, please, please, please let me know. I won’t be angry or mad at all since I don’t take any offence to it. I’d definitely prefer to know rather than waiting for a response that isn’t coming. On that note, I’ll also never, ever pressure you to post so please also respect my time when I’m replying. I know people have lives outside of this forum.
- This is important! If you have triggers or are sensitive to certain topics, please let me know ahead of time. I want us to have a safe and fun experience.
- Finally, I prefer to RP via PMs and have OOC chats in Discord. If you’re not comfortable using Discord though, that’s totes cool too. I also don’t mind using Threads and Googledocs if that’s your preference. Just a little note with regards to Threads, I’m not that good at coding so if you expect intricately decorated posts, then, I’m not for you. I will try my best to make something pretty though! ~
♥ = Craving, Bold= My Preferred Role
PAIRINGS
- Monster x Soldier ♥
- Gladiator x God/Demi-God
- Private Investigator x Psychic Medium
- Hitman/Hitwoman x Marked Target
-Scientistx Experiment ♥
- Human x Ghost ♥
- Hunter x Demon/Supernatural Being
- Body Guard x Trouble Magnet
- Human/Alien x Android ♥♥
- Rookie Hero x Evil Mastermind
- Writer x Their Incarnated Fictional Character
- Archaeologist x Atlantean/Member of Lost Civilization
- Human x Self-aware Clone
PROMPTS
- “I’m finally running your race. The mountains you’ve been climbing seem like they have steepened since I’ve decided to pick up the pace.”
- “The first time you died, you were alone and afraid. By the fifth, you knew what to expect.”
- “If you’re going to shoot me, then make it count. Don’t waste more than one bullet on a willing target.”
- “Love is considered to be a disease. Nobody wants to love each other, but we’re all infected.”
- “Sometimes, the hero doesn’t save the day and it’s up to the survivors to clean up the aftermath.”
- “As you watch the sky turn a noxious shade of red, you get the sinking feeling that this is going to be a very long day.”
- “I think there's a flaw in my code. These voices won't leave me alone.”
- “Let me look into your eyes like I am searching for your soul.”
- “Bones shatter, fall apart, and hit the floor. If it doesn’t thrill you, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
THEMES
- Revolution ♥
- Time Travel ♥
- Mech Fighting ♥
- Immortals/Deities (Greek, Roman, etc.)
- Dystopian Societies ♥
- Futuristic Cities
- Urban Decay
- Space Exploration
FANDOMS
- Pacific Rim ♥♥ (If you give me a Jaeger co-pilot, I will give you ANYTHING you want!)
- Real Steel
- BBC Humans
- One Punch Man
- MCU: The Avengers & X-Men
- DCU: Batverse/Gotham (as a setting. I haven’t seen any TV shows.)
- Death Note
- The Wolf Among Us/Fables
I. VERMILLION
The year is 2389. It’s been a century since humanity has fled from Earth and into circular mega-structures floating above Mars. Global weather calamities – the collapse of Arctic and Antarctic ice sheets and shelves and simultaneous volcanic eruptions – have made the former planet inhabitable. While terraforming efforts on the Red Planet are still underway, Muse A and their team of scientific experts have made a huge discovery in the Martian outpost, a small living spore discovered from their latest expedition. Yet, in the midst of excitement, something rather sinister was taking hold within the labs.
At first deemed just a mere coincidence, any scientist exposed to the growing life-form seemed to experience a drastic change in behaviour. Mood swings, hallucinations, and relentless bloodlust and fury were only the tip of the iceberg. Those infected seemed to possess a hive mind, speaking in tongues not known to any linguist, and congregating like a cult to bring down the employees of the technological facility. In fact, it took no longer than three days for the whole thing to escalate before Muse A had to send a distress signal to ask for military support.
Muse B is a soldier trained to handle such hostile environments, but their team haven’t encountered anything quite like this. Although the outside of the facility looks relatively in tact, upon entering the armed fortress, it becomes very apparent that the dweller’s minds have unravelled. The team discovers bodies strewn haphazardly, strange writings on the walls, and unbridled resentment of those who are infected. Will Muse A be able to guide Muse B to their location? Will they figure out what is truly happening to these other people?
My Preferred Role: Muse A
ADDITIONAL NOTES: I’m open to making more characters for this plot. As well as including an actual alien threat, outside the zombified employees, to further add more conflict. But the main setting, at least in the initial stages, would be the Outpost in Mars and the atmosphere and environment that I was going for was something akin to Outlast (the video game), but in space.
II. TITAN
Control. Who’s in control? This question has plagued humanity since the beginning of time. All leaders find themselves vying for dominance while the meek flock of sheep follow blindly. While time progressed and human ideals evolved, this hunger for power never seemed to be sated for too long. Slowly but surely, countries wanted to assert their authority over the others, each claiming that their systematic governance would put the others to shame. It was such a mentality that started the era called Dark Wars, a name that captured the deterioration of civilization through the hands of nuclear warfare.
After decades of conflict, the wars that ravaged the Earth leaving only an ashen terrain. The soil was too polluted as any of the crops that grew were inedible, insufficient of nutrients and chockfull of toxic chemicals. All of the remaining displaced survivors were subjugated by a corporation called The Saviours. While benevolent in its face initially, it’s true directive was to obtain limitless power. Those who were wealthy were given preferential treatment and a home in the skies, Neolympus. Meanwhile, the rest of the general populace was forced to work like slaves, relinquishing personal possessions and freedoms for the safety that The Saviours promised.
To commemorate the triumph of The Saviours, at the turn of each decade, a competition is held to uplift the spirits of the masses. Each district is tasked to select a Champion to financially support. With this individual lies the whole district’s chance to obtain a raise in rations for a whole year as well as an extravagant celebration when they obtain victory. Of course, it isn’t as simple as it sounds. This competition, The Grand Trials, is an unforgiving competition. Champions aren’t only forced to compete with the dangerous elements, but also tasked to permanently take the other Champions out. In this twisted form of entertainment for the Neolympians, only one person will ascend to claim the title of Titan. Who will it be?
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Due to the nature of the plot, I would like to create multiple characters for this.
III. BURY THE HATCHET
There are certain ties that bind and others that unravel quickly when the tension between proves to be too much. But is this the case between two orphans who grew closer due to tragedy and drifted further due to fate’s machinations?
Muse A and Muse B’s parents were victims of the same accident. Without immediate close relatives who’d take responsibility for their needs, they were entered into the foster system quite early in their childhood. St. Margaret’s, lovingly dubbed Maggot school by the residents near the docks, knew of the sort of institution the headmistress ran. Amongst the crashing waves and the seagull calls heard past dawn, residents in Tempest City could hear the children marching and chanting in unison as if they were soldiers being trained for war.
Under such an austere atmosphere, our orphans found themselves creating a pact that regardless of what happened they would always protect the other. Their actions prolonged their survival for years. In fact, it wasn’t until early into their adolescence that such a relation began to crumble. There was an affluent couple who took a particular interest in Muse A. Without warning, Muse A was adopted, abruptly severing their friendship with Muse B. Meanwhile, without the companionship of Muse A, Muse B slowly fell in with the wrong crowd, seeking protection with the shadowy figures that operated in the outer corners of the docks. As much as it pained Muse B, they had to let Muse A go for their own good.
Fast forward to modern day Tempest. The criminal organizations near the docks are escalating their tactics. For the last few months, civil servants have been disappearing only to have their bodies resurface near bodies of water, a clear mark of the Marina’s Crew, the most dangerous gang based on the docks. Now, a chief detective of Tempest P.D., Muse A swore to rid the street of Marina’s clutches. Unfortunately, it’s easier said than done, in a raid of one of the warehouses, our orphans are re-united in way that neither had expected. With a gun pointed to Muse B’s back and a knife almost skimming Muse A’s throat, will the two remember the pact they made so long ago, if they even recognize the other at all?
My Preferred Role: Muse B
ADDITIONAL NOTES: I’d like to set this in a non-magical world with characters with supernatural/magical abilities. For example, Muse A could come from a line of great wizards/vampires/werewolves/etc. and that’s why the couple took a particular interest in Muse A, so they could awaken the power within. That said, in this society, “magic” is not widely accepted and still viewed as some kind of witch-craft so displaying their powers so publicly would probably result in alienation and derision. Think somewhere along Mutants in X-Men.
IV. SANDS OF TIME
To children, promises are the most sacred affect held by the heart and in-grained in memory. This was the case when Muse A promised their childhood friend that they would wed someday. Yet, as the pair grew older, their interest began to diverge. Muse A’s friend blossomed into a social butterfly, attracting more friends than Muse A could handle, leaving Muse A to hold on to the memories of their friendship. Unfortunately, Muse A’s troubles didn’t quite end there.
Muse A had always had a weak constitution, their health often preventing them from physical activities that other would find normal. The fragile soul only found themselves whisked away into adventure when their best friend used to encourage them to go out. And as much as Muse A wanted to rekindle the friendship they had with their best friend, their time was running out.
It’s been a few weeks since their last visit to the hospital and the doctor’s diagnosis was far from what they wanted to hear. Muse A had an illness that would greatly shorten their life to a course of a year. While initially, devastated, Muse A wanted to make things right in their lives and so they sought the help of Muse B, a self-proclaimed relationship expert to sort their feelings out with regards to their childhood friend.
Muse B had a lot of work ahead of them, transforming Muse A’s ugly duckling into a shining star, but they were inspired by Muse A’s resolve. Somewhere along the lines, the two go from being complete strangers brought together by a contract to genuine friends. Something Muse B rarely does, especially with clients. Their friendship allows Muse B to see the side that Muse A was rarely able to show the world. Perhaps, Muse A wasn’t as completely hopeless as they thought.
Now armed with the knowledge and experience Muse B had imparted in them, Muse A finds themselves face to face with their best friend again. Much to their delight, their friend begins to acknowledge them once more. But little do they know that in the distance, someone else’s heart is falling apart. It took Muse B longer to realize that they’ve fallen for Muse A. Will Muse B be able to hide their feelings long enough to help Muse A’s dreams come true? Only time will tell.
My Preferred Role: Muse A
ADDITIONAL NOTES: I know. I know. I know. This plot is definitely romance-centric, but what I do want to emphasize here is that this will be a slow, slow, slow-burning romance. I really want to build this up from a platonic friendship first. It won’t start with Muse A’s confession of feelings. As such, aside from Muse B’s occupation, their past history as well as future is open for the taking.
Leona caught Robert’s arm before he fell to the floor, stumbling into the war-room as he’d done several times before. “Slow down, Rob,” she warned against his jitteriness. Her friend was mumbling again, his expression seemingly somber and apprehensive, for the fact that his usual sardonic brand of humour was absent from his speech. Instead he spewed everything at once as if he were eager to quickly dispel any mental bile that he’d held onto his throat for the duration of his mission. As the young woman adjusted her grip and allowed her confidant to brush himself off from the soot that sparsely clung onto the carpeted ground, she took a second to digest all the information he’d just divulged. He told her that he just saw Lawrence enter an apothecary and speak to the merchant before the merchant himself took a vial from the bottom counter and left it for him. “Yes, I agree. I don’t see a logical reason for my step-brother’s unexpected visit. Although, Annalise did warn me about the root he was after…”
The knight-in-training’s brows furrowed, her mind wasn’t apt to solving riddles so early in the morn, but time was of the essence. Both she and Robert were alert to her brother’s false face, despite his amicable public demeanor when presented with conflict. Like Leona, Lawrence was not slighted in the craft of proper social etiquette as were most of the noble’s children when chided by punctilious scholars and dignified tutors. Yet, in the privacy of his quarters, his pride had betrayed him further than he could surmise. In his confidence, the second heir let his tongue slip of the information best kept in the dwellings of one’s internal soul. His extreme revulsion for their father and his grand arrangement to usurp the throne elusively. She turned towards the blonde minstrel and knew the conclusion he asserted before he vocalized it. “If I know Lawrence, he’ll choose a time when my father’s guard is down before he proceeds as planned.”
The brunette clenched her fists, airing her frustrations on the wooden table causing the small tokens to tumble over themselves across the map. A scowl tugged at the side of her lips as if she’d welcomed an opponent to her very own abode. In a literal sense, she had; however, her brother’s capricious nature wasn’t a quality that she could afford to undermine. While Lawrence’s motive was as crisp as the sun on summer’s day, his method was as buried even deeper than the coffins placed in sacred catacombs. Her intuition wasn’t merely whispering at the edges of her consciousness, it gripped it in fierce intensity with claws outstretching from the bowels of fiery cauldron in her stomach. There were only two circumstances in which she behaved this way prior, one after her father had forbidden her from entering the knight’s tournament and the second was when her mother died. Just as her brother had taken a harsh stance against their father, she refused to simply allow Lawrence to severe her last blood ties. She glared past Robert and almost squeezed the poor soul into a puddle of mush and bones. She was looking beyond him when she lost complete control and barked orders, “We have to be vigilant! I will stand outside his chambers! You must continue to watch Lawrence! I will not have the reaper escort my father tonight!”
With the steam dissipating into the notwithstanding tense atmosphere, her eyes withdrew their glaze settling back into their stoical film. Leona wasn’t going to simply crouch down to play her brother’s game, not by his rules. Her desire was to beat him using her own cleverness. Her slowed breathing began to oxygenate her cranial vessels, emptying her thoughts from fits of rage. Moreover, such displays of outward emotions were unbecoming of a knight, especially one of the caliber she aspired to be. The apology was a bur caught in her gullet, often unaccustomed to pronouncing her short-comings. “Sorry.” It might not have sufficed for Robert, but this was all that she was capable of given her recent break of face. “I didn’t intend for things to escalate this far,” she continued, turning her back to him, and looking upon the chalice that’s been possessed by her family for decades. “The price of blood surpasses that of gold. For the metal will lose its lustre, but the heart will not stop until the end… It’s something my father has said.”
‘Some fights must be fought alone.’
The man’s words ebbed slow into her being, the surroundings bequeathing unwarranted nostalgia as the King used to sit her onto his lap while he wrote his letters to his allies. His ideals have always been honourable, his philosophy to keep the best interest of his people at heart, granted him the reputation of a benevolent ruler. It wasn’t until the last few years that his presence began to lose its warmth. Aside from herself, no one took the Queen’s death as bitterly as himself. Like birth, grief is capable of blustering away those with indomitable spirits into cinder and ash. “You’re dismissed, Robert,” still avoiding looking back into his eyes. “You've done your part and I don’t need any further proof of your allegiance to the Crown.” She paused, taking another breath in, realization sinking deeper and deeper. “It isn’t your fight. It’s mine.”
.....
GALEN WESTLEY
so what if you could see the darker side of me?
no one can change this animal i've become...
Drip! Drip! Drip!
The transparent liquid rumbled under the pressure of the open tap as the male before the sink stood haphazardly washing his hands. He wiped the dribbling remnants off his charcoal, woolen pea coat before finishing for a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pockets. The putrid scent of piss combined with the sharp hint of chlorine and blood from the water jetted up his nose, leaving an odour that he was all too familiar with. At this point in his monotonous, lingering existence, he began to wonder why the cretins bothered to settle in this abhorrent neighbourhood if all they were going to do was argue over territory. “New world, same shit,” he grumbled under his breath as he inhaled the flame that dampened the stench. His damn nose was going to be the death of him someday, but apparently, today wasn’t that day.
“GALEN! GALEN!”
A flickering speckle of golden dust trailed along his shoulder before a miniature figure manifested itself in front of him, huffing and puffing about in an obvious frenzy. The green haired nymphet began fumbling her fingers as she struggled to speak, stuttering incomprehensible words from her Old Elven tongue. “Spit it out, Colette!” he demanded. The wolf’s patience was left behind the moment he was called in to deal with some petty domestic disturbance near a gas station, the Chief’s way of reprimanding him for his recent outlandish transgressions. The old man wasn’t ever going to be able to bring him back to his former self. Needless to say, that golden-boy Galen was gone. Even now, he wondered why he bothered to meticulously adhere to the rules prior as it only served to get in the way of his actual work. No one was exactly on the up and up anymore.
“Ollie said he saw Jack in the alley near fifth street! The residents say that they heard Big Wally there too…”
As soon as his subject’s name was thrown into the mix, the detective’s ears perked, emerald eyes virtually smouldering in the dim, unsanitary chamber. To say that Wallace Lavern was a corrupt man was awfully blasphemous, quite parallel to painting him as an angel, if the Sistine chapel were a depiction of leaders of M.C.’s organized crime families. There wasn’t a man with a greater psychotic bloodlust than “Big Wally” for the way he would slowly draw out the pain in his victims using medieval torturing methods. However, his piece de resistance is a signature in the form of micro-incisions wrapping around the victim’s bodies, which indicated that his meaty hands were nothing short of nimble, but also revealed his increasing obsession with surgical tools. There was no doubt in Galen’s mind that it was this menacing reputation that attracted the Pierrot Family to welcome him in with open arms. Stubbing the end of the cigarette on the sink, he sprung across the limp, unconscious mass near the urinals towards the exit. “Let the Chief take care of him,” his gaze glided from the body towards the sprite. “Or dispatch another guy over. I really don’t give a care.” He wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to follow his only lead.
The veiled canine walked briskly to the mentioned street, aiming to keep his lower visage shrouded in vertical collars; therefore, transplanting himself in the most efficient and innocuous way as possible. Yet, if he were to be honest, his complete line of reasoning was to escape the scents of the hairless apes. These humans and their fragrances and colognes were enough to drive his senses wild, and not in the way most people would consider appropriate, with his tendency to handle most disputes violently. His particular dogma was to win at any cost, as the weight of consequences were that of a feather on air, not particularly marring his conscience. He’s been doing for too long, perhaps, even to point where he’s seen everything so as to not pay any heed to the urged parameters that govern his world and theirs. Any poor soul that got in his way was simply executed. Rounding the bend, he saw a figure emerge from the streets, on a full-on sprint. Suspicious? Most certainly, but he saw no reason to interfere with the evolved simian’s affairs for they too had their own justice department for such matters.
The further down he went on the alley, the more he could discern that there was more than one presence there. There was shadow slumped over, undoubtedly wounded onto the left, and another one shaking unto the right. Was the killer developing some sort of remorse? What were they doing so close to the other? Were they collecting a trophy? Nevertheless, the criminal’s cryptic motive hadn’t rattled his brain enough to keep him from sliding his hand down to the cool metal, whipping a pistol out as soon as he reached an approximately close distance. “If you don’t want a silver bullet through your gut, get up and face the wall!” he boomed from the opposite side. “DO IT NOW!” Galen watched the healthy figure’s movements, scrutinizing every single breath, for the moment the woman decided to disobey, he was ready to open fire. Edging forward carefully, he doubted his own vision as he recognized the deceased creature onto his left. This girl took down Big Wally? He refused to let such a simple notion canonize permanently, reassessing the situation and drawing more conclusions that would fit the bill. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, tone dripping in cynicism, whilst running her face through the mental filing cabinet he held onto with female suspects he’d previously apprehended.
template by astraea
Last edited:
