gadzooks
New Member
The name's gadzooks. I've been roleplaying since the wee ole days of Neopets. Oh yes. Bonus points to all my fellow RP geriatrics. Anywho, I'm a thirtysomething with a full-time job to which I happily cede the majority of my life. In my not-so-spare time I've been hankering for something to write. A nice little escape into something sufficiently grand and epic. To that end, I'm proposing that we skip the figuring-it-out phase and dive right in...old school.
Once upon a time, way back when, writers wrote. We wrote half-baked starters, threw up out and into the world and responded to whatever bit first (or best). Call me old fashioned, but I MISS IT. I miss it bad.
THUS. I have prepared a starter. I have provided a general crash course into a world I've spent very little time on and care very little about. Now, here's the fun part--I don't care if we use any of this. I just care that we get started. So, here's the plan:
Step One: Step Two: Read my rules. If they jive with you, keep going.
Step Two: Read my writing sample. If you like my style, read on. If you don't, move on.
Step Three: Read up on the potential world state and character pitches if my writing sample piqued your interest. Skip to Step Four if it didn't.
Step Four: DM me with the following:
Once upon a time, way back when, writers wrote. We wrote half-baked starters, threw up out and into the world and responded to whatever bit first (or best). Call me old fashioned, but I MISS IT. I miss it bad.
THUS. I have prepared a starter. I have provided a general crash course into a world I've spent very little time on and care very little about. Now, here's the fun part--I don't care if we use any of this. I just care that we get started. So, here's the plan:
Step One: Step Two: Read my rules. If they jive with you, keep going.
Step Two: Read my writing sample. If you like my style, read on. If you don't, move on.
Step Three: Read up on the potential world state and character pitches if my writing sample piqued your interest. Skip to Step Four if it didn't.
Step Four: DM me with the following:
- EITHER your reply OR a starter of your own (go wild);
- Some general information about yourself you think might be good to know;
- Where you prefer to write: on a board, in a separate DM, etc.; and
- Any questions you have/anything else you want to include.
- For writing style, check out the sample in the next spoiler. Basic non-negotiables apply: exert effort, have fun, write in a manner you feel is compatible with what we're creating.
- Reply frequency from me will vary. I'll likely be pretty rapid fire over the next few days. That will taper off to anywhere between a few (3-4) replies a week to weekly once I return to work.
- Romance is something I believe characters have to earn. I'm not going to plan for it or manipulate toward it. That being said, romance is the spice of life, right? Personally, I'm always hopeful it'll happen but, if it does, I want it to feel organic and true to the characters. I'm a sucker for conflict. I love a good enemies to lovers arc as much as the next gal. I'm also time-strapped enough to be willfully indulgent here and say up front that I prefer to write female mains and mxf romance arcs if/when that happens. Honestly, that's just what's most fun for me and I believe we should all get to have as much fun as possible where hobbies in our free time are concerned.
- I love a good cast of characters and I'm not opposed to NPCs naturally rising to the ranks of main characters. For my NPCs, all genders and sexualities are on the table.
- This is the big one: be over the age of 25. As a thirtysomething, anything less than that just feels awkward for me.
- Triggers: Again, I love conflict. I love a gritty world with dark themes and characters faced with impossible odds. For me, trials make coming out the other side all the more worthwhile. That being said, I will absolutely respect any/all triggers, so hit me with those any time. (I should also add that while I wouldn't classify this as a trigger for me, I will share that a personal irritant for me is being graphic for the sake of being graphic. Anything done solely to shock or awe that isn't genuinely adding to the story is a turn-off on my end.)
There were certainly worse taverns in Falmarch than the Spoon’s Rest, but not many. Two stories tall with walls that creaked with the wind and a hearth that stank of scrubbed vomit, the place stood watch over a dirt road and a village too small to warrant a name. It was perfect.
Somewhere on the other side of the world, the Reach was creeping closer to the brink of war. Raids were expanding. If local rumor was to be believed, greycloaks were everywhere, hunting magicks on the run, nabbing them in the least expected places to fight on the front lines.
Enver did her best to ignore the whispers. She hadn’t seen a real greycloak in weeks, not since Taler. Whatever stories the Marchers were telling around their fire was likely recycled gossip from traveling merchants, passing through the unnamed village on their way to somewhere more worth their while. There was nothing here for a greycloak.
Nothing except her.
“Not to yer liking, miss?”
Enver started, surprised to find the tavern master’s daughter standing in front of her table. “I’m sorry?” Her mind had wandered, drawn into the hushed whispers flickering like cinder around the putrid hearth. She hadn’t noticed the hawk-eyed girl until she was practically on top of the table, blinking at her with a pinched look.
“Yer stew,” the girl explained, nodding at the half-eaten bowl between them. “Has t’ve gone cold by now and ye’ve barely touched it.”
“Oh. No, it’s quite good.” The hawk-eyed girl arced an unconvinced brow. “Really,” Enver nodded, stomach rumbling as if to prove her point. “Just savoring it is all. See?” She lifted another spoonful to her mouth, disappointed to realize the girl was right—it had already gone cold.
It took two more bites to convince the girl to leave the bowl until she was finished. Cold or not, Enver couldn’t afford to squander the meal. With its chunks of barely seasoned meat and undercooked potatoes, it was already a luxury. She intended to eat the entire thing.
And—sooner or later—she’d have to pay for the meal.
The tavern master would probably accept the gloves from her pocket in trade. They were warm and made well enough. The wool was thick and only a little scratchy. Besides, she had only just pinched them from a drying line a few days ago, which meant she’d already survived weeks without them. There was no reason to feel so attached to them now.
Of course, if she lingered long enough, it was always possible the place would fill up enough for her to slip out unnoticed. It wouldn’t be the first time. Then again, skipping out on her tab meant there would be no bargaining for a spot of hay in the barn for the night. Enver was still weighing her options when the tavern door whipped open, slamming against an already creaky wall with a gust of wind and snow that elicited an outcry of “close the damn door!” and “yer lettin’ all the heat out!” from the party at the hearth.
By the time the door closed, Enver was slumped in her chair shivering under her worn-out excuse of a cloak. She wouldn’t survive a night like tonight in the open. She’d have to give up the gloves for the meal and, hopefully, the barn.
Somewhere on the other side of the world, the Reach was creeping closer to the brink of war. Raids were expanding. If local rumor was to be believed, greycloaks were everywhere, hunting magicks on the run, nabbing them in the least expected places to fight on the front lines.
Enver did her best to ignore the whispers. She hadn’t seen a real greycloak in weeks, not since Taler. Whatever stories the Marchers were telling around their fire was likely recycled gossip from traveling merchants, passing through the unnamed village on their way to somewhere more worth their while. There was nothing here for a greycloak.
Nothing except her.
“Not to yer liking, miss?”
Enver started, surprised to find the tavern master’s daughter standing in front of her table. “I’m sorry?” Her mind had wandered, drawn into the hushed whispers flickering like cinder around the putrid hearth. She hadn’t noticed the hawk-eyed girl until she was practically on top of the table, blinking at her with a pinched look.
“Yer stew,” the girl explained, nodding at the half-eaten bowl between them. “Has t’ve gone cold by now and ye’ve barely touched it.”
“Oh. No, it’s quite good.” The hawk-eyed girl arced an unconvinced brow. “Really,” Enver nodded, stomach rumbling as if to prove her point. “Just savoring it is all. See?” She lifted another spoonful to her mouth, disappointed to realize the girl was right—it had already gone cold.
It took two more bites to convince the girl to leave the bowl until she was finished. Cold or not, Enver couldn’t afford to squander the meal. With its chunks of barely seasoned meat and undercooked potatoes, it was already a luxury. She intended to eat the entire thing.
And—sooner or later—she’d have to pay for the meal.
The tavern master would probably accept the gloves from her pocket in trade. They were warm and made well enough. The wool was thick and only a little scratchy. Besides, she had only just pinched them from a drying line a few days ago, which meant she’d already survived weeks without them. There was no reason to feel so attached to them now.
Of course, if she lingered long enough, it was always possible the place would fill up enough for her to slip out unnoticed. It wouldn’t be the first time. Then again, skipping out on her tab meant there would be no bargaining for a spot of hay in the barn for the night. Enver was still weighing her options when the tavern door whipped open, slamming against an already creaky wall with a gust of wind and snow that elicited an outcry of “close the damn door!” and “yer lettin’ all the heat out!” from the party at the hearth.
By the time the door closed, Enver was slumped in her chair shivering under her worn-out excuse of a cloak. She wouldn’t survive a night like tonight in the open. She’d have to give up the gloves for the meal and, hopefully, the barn.
If you were intrigued by the writing sample/want to play in a half-baked world, I've thrown this together to whet your whistle. I'm by no means committed to either this world or these specific details. So if this sparks an interest but you have changes/drastically different possibilities to suggest, I'm game!
The Saadarian Empire’s so-called “Reach” spans the length of the northern half of the continent. Once three independent kingdoms, the north fell to imperial rule nearly a century ago. The kingdoms of Braxa, Hadar, and Cann exist now as vassal city-states within the Reach, their monarchs long-since deposed and replaced with stewards more sympathetic to the Saadarian Line.
Xerxes Saadar ascended the throne some fifteen years ago. Seeks to extend his father’s Reach by setting his sights on the southern kingdom of Falmarch. Xerxes is cunning, though. His father made the Reach palatable by offering protection: a way to control the “magicks” who threaten the realm. Magicks, born with the gift to manipulate elements, are dangerous. Although rare, it’s said that a single magick could level a town if provoked. To ensure the freedom and security of the citizens of the reach, Emperor Saadar has employed an army of “greycloaks”—soldiers in slate grey armor and pale grey cloaks, trained to siphon—even cancel entirely—magicks’ control of the elements. How exactly greycloaks are able to drain a magick’s power is a secret the Saadarian Empire maintains under lock and key. To the continent at large, all that matters is that greycloaks are capable of not only protecting the uncontrollable magicks, they are able to use the magicks’ power to maintain order. Magicks who surrender themselves to the Empire are trained at the Magisterium to use their gifts for the betterment and protection of the realm. Those who are captured undergo similar training, but do not enjoy the same freedoms as those who turn themselves in willingly.
Having finally conquered the whole of the north, the Reach has set its sights on the south. Border kingdoms have spent the past few years reinforcing their defenses and bolstering their ranks. Together, their numbers are greater than the whole of the north, but in-fighting and border skirmishes of their own have left the southern kingdoms fragmented and disjointed, unprepared for the united front needed to hold back the Reach.
A Continent on the Brink of War
The Saadarian Empire’s so-called “Reach” spans the length of the northern half of the continent. Once three independent kingdoms, the north fell to imperial rule nearly a century ago. The kingdoms of Braxa, Hadar, and Cann exist now as vassal city-states within the Reach, their monarchs long-since deposed and replaced with stewards more sympathetic to the Saadarian Line.
Xerxes Saadar ascended the throne some fifteen years ago. Seeks to extend his father’s Reach by setting his sights on the southern kingdom of Falmarch. Xerxes is cunning, though. His father made the Reach palatable by offering protection: a way to control the “magicks” who threaten the realm. Magicks, born with the gift to manipulate elements, are dangerous. Although rare, it’s said that a single magick could level a town if provoked. To ensure the freedom and security of the citizens of the reach, Emperor Saadar has employed an army of “greycloaks”—soldiers in slate grey armor and pale grey cloaks, trained to siphon—even cancel entirely—magicks’ control of the elements. How exactly greycloaks are able to drain a magick’s power is a secret the Saadarian Empire maintains under lock and key. To the continent at large, all that matters is that greycloaks are capable of not only protecting the uncontrollable magicks, they are able to use the magicks’ power to maintain order. Magicks who surrender themselves to the Empire are trained at the Magisterium to use their gifts for the betterment and protection of the realm. Those who are captured undergo similar training, but do not enjoy the same freedoms as those who turn themselves in willingly.
Having finally conquered the whole of the north, the Reach has set its sights on the south. Border kingdoms have spent the past few years reinforcing their defenses and bolstering their ranks. Together, their numbers are greater than the whole of the north, but in-fighting and border skirmishes of their own have left the southern kingdoms fragmented and disjointed, unprepared for the united front needed to hold back the Reach.
These are intended solely to get your gears turning if you like either the writing sample or world state. Please don't feel constrained to the archetypes listed here. If you have a character idea in mind and you're not entirely sure whether we can make it work, let me know. I'm happy to brainstorm!
- Greycloak assigned to track down and return Enver to the Empire
- Local revolutionary fighting to overthrow the Empire
- Unwitting local with no interest in politics who is eventually swept up in the brewing maelstrom
- Southern dignitary/soldier/citizen with no allegiance to the Empire who happens to be waylaid at the tavern by happenstance (horse threw a shoe, carriage broke a wheel, etc.)
Obviously, I'm not married to anything composed here. I'm happy to run in another direction entirely. So, if you're interested and having something alternative in mind, hit me with your sample/starter.
Genres I'd be up for include:
Genres I'd be up for include:
- Fantasy - usually in a more historical setting, but I can be persuaded to go modern for the right hook
- Sci-fi - think big sci-fi, space opera, aliens, spaceships, the nines
- Post-apocalyptic - probably my least favorite on the list but, again, for the right pitch, I could be game
- Fandoms - I almost hesitate to even include these as options (full disclosure: I've never done a fandom RP) but I'm admittedly intrigued so, once again, for the right pitch, I could potentially go for: Dragon Age (any timeline), Mass Effect, or BG3 (obviously feeling real video-gamey right about now)
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