For the sake of simplicity, I'm going to exclude personal details about myself and get down to the nitty gritty: my search for roleplays. Stories, to be exact; a chronicle with unique characters, a solid plot and conflict. Although I'm picky when it comes to the screening process for partners, I guarantee that ultimately, it's for everyone's benefit. Anyway, before I go on, here are 3 big things you should know about me as a writer:
➀ My character preferences (among others) vary from story to story. Although my main character will largely be female, if asked, I'm more than happy to play a male. Multiple characters injected into the story are a must, though! The very same applies to sexuality and genders.
➁ My availability can be very dodgy. I work full time and I'm also a student. Sometimes posts will take 30 minutes, others they will take a week or more. Regardless, I will always be in contact with you and give you habitual updates ~
➂ I need stimulation. In addition to having a fetish for environmental details, dynamism in a roleplay is crucial. That means that there needs to be a constant flux and flow, and that we each contribute to plot movement so nothing remains stagnant.
Current Roleplays
_______________________Dragon Age ◈ Joon ◈ started o4.o8.16 ◈ google docs ◈ their post _______________________Werewolves ◈ Dogged ◈ started 12.30.14 ◈ threads ◈ hiatus _______________________Dark Souls ◈ Kaziersosar ◈ started o4.25.16 ◈ threads ◈ hiatus _______________________Jurassic World ◈ Tune Mizu ◈ started o4.24.16 ◈ threads ◈ their post _______________________Fallout 4 ◈ Raisinbiscuit ◈ started o4.24.16 ◈ email ◈ my post _______________________Atlantis ◈ Victor Kane ◈ started o2.16.16 ◈ threads ◈ my post
Want to know what aspects of stories I find especially entertaining? If yes, I'd recommend giving this a quick once over. While it isn't mandatory, it will definitely give you a leg up on other candidates.
DOM vs SUB Unless we're describing an aspect of our character's personality or talking about the biology of someone's genes, I will not staple my characters with these titles. Why? A character can be physically dominant but emotionally submissive. Alternatively, they can be physically submissive and emotionally dominant. If we throw in mentality, spirituality, etc, we've just created a massive spectrum of potential dominant/submissive traits.
SMUT vs EROTICA I enjoy the later more. The user DIG explained my outlook on this quite eloquently: "Honestly I get really bored when sex is approached immediately, I like when characters bait each other, or cock block, taunt and seduce. It's all about the menu and the dinner - if you jump straight to desert then you'll be full for a while but wanting more." In summation, to me, smut is quick and dirty, but erotica is significantly sexier ~
PREDESTINATION vs AD-LIB Actively plot with me; take turns scheming surprises and fuck-ups. I like it when people wedge a wrench in my gears. I do not like when things are so heavily predetermined that I feel like I'm reading a script. Although planning a few preemptive scenes here and there is totally acceptable, let's do so reasonably.
Here are some snippets of my writing. If you aren't confident in your writing abilities or find that you don't write in a similar descriptive manner, I would advise rethinking me as a partner.
Whatever remained was usurped by Pandora’s gravitational pull. The remnants of smashed shrapnel circled aimlessly about in the vacuum called space, occasionally making impact with its bigger counterparts. The resulting explosion was soundless, like watching a black and white silent film on the big screen. If sound was present, it would have been enough to wrest Jack from his death throes, but something else beat the jettisoned space junk to the punch. In his dreams he likened it to a wraith; the omnipresent shadow of a woman lurching over his corpse when all he could see were geysers of red erupting around him. After escaping with the star-map, Lillith, Roland and the other vault hunters left Jack for dead. With the Destroyer subdued, the vault collapsed on itself, erasing the existence of Hyperion tech and the intellectual riches stored in the bedrock.
When the magma rose high enough, his angel collected him in her arms and vanished. He recalled, briefly, the feeling of warm water enveloping him. The white hot, lance of pure pain painted on his now twisted face was altogether absent and, ultimately, he was stirred to life with a quick stab of electricity. He jerked upright, like one of Zed’s zombie experiments, except all of his intestines were safely fastened inside his viscera.
Fortunately, where he awoke was well off considering the status of the rest of the station. The walls were eked out in a gaudy, canary yellow, splashed with the low hanging buzz of swaying light fixtures. He couldn’t tell which was more yellow—the lights, or the paint. Regardless, he instinctively touched his face, flinching when the memories flooded back. He was convinced he should be feeling agony when in retrospect, he felt nothing but the gloved pads of his fingertips. He caught his reflection on a fragment of shattered glass—he was handsome. Handsome-er, even. “This isn’t right.” He threw his weight from what appeared to be a table, flat, but humming with life, depicting a detailed map of Hyperion’s research facility.
Much to his chagrin, there was no cognitive AI chronicling the events on Pandora; he couldn’t just ask a haphazard fixit loader what had transpired. Theoretically he could, but it would just veer off on a tangent about the broken state of the station. Frazzled, Jack collected his wits and made his way to an adjacent exit. The lights flickered. Outside of the glass pane doors broken black wires, like electric eels, writhed and swayed in the misconstrued gravity. From the far edge of the corridor he could hear a sound. A voice. It reminded him of the angel that saved him, or rather, the one he saw in his dreams.
He closed the space between himself and the dimly-lit hallway, occasionally stealing a glance at Pandora. The locals thought it a gem but truthfully, it was a fetid hunk of sulfur wreaking of shit and slag.
“Hey!” he hollered. His voice was skewed, but only from thirst. His eyes were unable to adjust to the darkness, but he knew the sound of a female voice as well as he knew a mirror—very well, if it was up for discussion. “I need to know what the hell is going on here. Now. Start talking, lady.” The darkness was deceiving. “You know. Talking. That thing where you move your lips and generally unfavorable sounds fall out.”
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