A Call To Reason (and Roleplay) - Now with plot/writing sample

[MrBurke]

I find this distasteful.

This Request business. I don't like it, and I don't like the typical format. I feel like a whore, bellowing dockside at passing sailors, making empty promises of ecstasy and eye-opening orgasmic revelations with a gravelly voice and deep bags under my eyes. You could well picture me there, shivering in the moonlight with a long french cigarette, brightly colored skin-tight clothes not unlike that of a bird of paradise. Dockside-prostitute-me would have just enough swagger and sway to catch your attention, already knowing the most divergent, beastly aspects of who you are inside and comfortably pandering to each erotic depth with a shrewd eye and seasoned savoir-faire.

I guess I am that, in a few ways, if less funny an image. I've been at this for fully eleven years now. I'm sure none of you are impressed by the number, but know that I feel the wear of experience. Behold! The very mouth of time is addressing you, the ancient playground of the original ayenee arisen from its crooked and premature grave. I know this game inside and out, with the total exception of your new-age hentai/anime lingo, and I do not feel shame in relaying to you, my dear reader, that I am an above-average player. It doesn't feel pretentious to say, but I have been made to understand that very sentiment as a prerequisite for true pretentiousness, so I leave judgment in your hands.

I have been shackled in this life with an urgent need to please, and that is likely the most succinct phrasing I could use to describe my style. I am by no means submissive, but I am very flexible, and my preferences move and twist with my partners. I am possessed of range, and I am attracted to partners and scenarios more than a specific list of must-haves. Know that you cannot shock me, and that my capacity to carry off the taboo and demented runs deep, but the notions in and of themselves are not sufficient nor necessary to motivate me.

As a roleplay partner, you will find me kind, obliging, respectful and communicative to a fault. You will never know me, and I will never know you, but our discourse (removed utterly from the sanctity of our story, of course) is comparable to a chatty date who talks through the movie. I am aware of the drawback and do my best to curb it.

Every character is unique, but we all trend: I like to play very controlling, very dominant men. I am an aggressive person by nature and it comes across as clear as a bell in my stories. Sexuality flows into my writing through not just simple rutting, but the manner in which the male avatars I act through speak, hold themselves, interact with their metaphysical worlds... I do not understand or espouse roleplay that seeks to minimalize sexual conduct within itself and I avoid it with something very near exclusivity. It is true that some of the best stories you will write in your life will present long breaks in such conduct and revolve around interaction and plot beyond the physical act of coitus, but that is not to say that sex and worthwhile story are on opposing ends of some hypothetical stick. A plotline must be more complex than that; sex does not kill plot, it distracts conservative people.

What would Titus Andronicus have been without sex, flawed as it was? Is the stripped-down public release version of Baby Face somehow enriched by heavy censorship, or marred irreparably to the point of incongruousness? Do people really never have blood-boiling aberrant ongoing sexual infatuations with one-another, and form deep, complex relationships around that desperate animal need, or is it more that romantic comedies make a purer kind of sense, from a formulaic standpoint? The best lover is one who isn't struck astonished and greedy with overexcitement in the moment of debauchery, and the best roleplayer is one who can see past the immediate circumstances and continuously capture a person. In assuming our partners incapable of this we rob ourselves of a potential best case scenario.

On the issue of noncon: I have a difficult time with the notion of out-and-out rape as a basis for continuing roleplay. As a plot device it can work wonders, but the gratuitous grind of hard, unwanted sexual abuse leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth. Far greater, to me, is the story that places your character in a difficult situation, and forces a choice you'd rather not make. I don't gain anything from just taking from a body. That's like smut without plot. The other player's/character's engagement is what compels me. I need for you to have outs and not take them, even if the reasoning behind it is morally shady. It could be that your attraction is just so strong you can't turn it. A woman who hates the sex isn't satisfying long-term, but a woman who hates that she loves the sex? Now that's something else.

For all you force-fans, I can always offer alternatives. The blackmail tape that precipitates another, and yet another, the appetizing, desperate prospect of just one more degrading sex act on film and then you're out spiraling down into a pattern, digging yourself deeper and deeper until an ongoing relationship based around that exploration surfaces and leaving is hardly the point anymore. Maybe it's an opportunity you can't stand to pass up: an incredible amount of money/status, or the exponentially fading affection of a loved one, and desperate times call for desperate measures... Someone you care about is on the brink of odious doom, and you sacrifice yourself for their benefit, laying yourself at the feet of somebody brutal in both heroic gesture and soul-shocking self-admission of want you never even entertained as a fantasy – the list goes on, but if your ideal scenario is kidnapping and then repetitive rape until fail, I don't think I can help. If I can give you any limit, it's that.

The most sexually compelling things in the world, for me, are as follows, in no particular order:

1)Being wanted/needed/worshiped by a woman
2)A woman who uncontrollably craves something sexually deviant
3)A woman with real strength, intelligence and character
4)Sexual tension/anticipation
5)Asserting myself in position of dominance (physical and/or situational)
6)Imposing fear and intimidation


I find any of these things satisfying, and if you know how to give even one of them to people, please PM me. I am a heterosexual male more than capable of carrying off genres from post-apocalypse to modern to fantasy, vampire/supernatural, canon comic book, television series, all that and more - lets just talk, yeah? I'm looking for PM and thread play, and I insist on literacy and cordiality. I can play as many as seven characters to your one effectively, and I do not need to play a human. You'll find I have an interpretive knack for addressing fetish and I write at length when a story compels me. I should note that I absolutely wilt for a woman willing to play doubles or triples for me, and I always extend the same courtesy/option to my partners.

It takes me two pages to say hello, as you can see. Some people call that a boon, others can't stand it. If you're still reading this and you like what I have to offer, I'd love to hear from you.

"Give me your tired, your poor/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free/The wretched refuse of your teeming shore/Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me/I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

I'm not sure this is exactly what Lazarus had in mind, but it fits here nicely. My door is always open, and I'm always looking for good people.

See below for plots and writing samples.

 

[MrBurke]

Admittedly, these will be very elemental and familiar stories. These basics are classic for a reason, I suppose, and stand in here as essentials meant to be varied and shifted for the benefit of individuals. Do not mistake these as cravings: if I've learned anything, it's that roleplayers want Romeo and Juliet, and they want it over and over again – and there's nothing wrong with that, in case it wasn't clear. Nothing seems to catch the public's collective eye better, and there's no use reinventing the wheel for so simple an introduction. My first rule of roleplay is that everything is disposable. Take these outlines as gestures, meant to indicate my typical leanings and overall style.

Plot Synopsis:

A vampire, worn thin by time and experience, struggles with his position in the world and disconnect from humanity. A chance encounter with a beautiful, strong-willed and intelligent young woman makes him question his outlook and patterns of behavior. Over time the notion of a relationship surfaces, something he'd long refused himself the fantasy of, and he pursues the burgeoning relationship in earnest. His personality quirks, after so long feeding from and discarding humans, make for a bizarre social dynamic, in addition to the restrictions imposed by his state of being (re: vampire). The two, bound by mutual interest or his bewitching supernatural power, struggle to make it in a work in a world not designed for their union.


Writing Sample:

Two walls, a dumpster, a dead body, discarded refuse, and a vampire.

Still, all. None moved. Not for a long time.

The darkness made no nevermind to him. The pool was the same in any light. The pattern was always different, unique, varying on the person's size and how much he drank. But it was always the same. The thick stuff, the dark blood, it was like the end of a bottle of wine. Too thick to enjoy. Not fit for consumption.

Always the same.

Her beautiful face was frozen in shock, a touch of pleasant surprise around the corners of her mouth and eyes. The venom that beaded from the lining of his gums responded with the human body alone, brought about an immediate release of endorphins akin to that familiar post-orgasmic haze that makes one tired and pleased. The agony of want replaced with its soothing absence, so very close to the sudden pain of his bite numbed with tranquilizing effluvium.

A brilliant madman once wrote, “Perhaps all pleasure is only relief.”

He was writing about opiates, of course, but need is need. Standing there, regarding her mix of pain and pleasure, he searched for something. Deep in the chest of a killer something swirls, ebbs, nags. It's beyond touching, something they're not meant to see, but it existence cannot be denied. The truth is, human beings were not meant to kill each other. It's counter-productive, evolutionarily speaking. We are meant to adapt to our environment, not the social reality formed by groups. That particular tier of 'survival of the fittest' is self-imposed and a crime against nature.

It's why we develop post-traumatic stress disorder, or any other level of trauma or dementia, remain scarred for life upon severe genocide, or participating in the taking of life to any degree. Unless trained to be that way virtually from adolescence or even birth, human beings respond with violent physical and mental illness to the act of snuffing out essence. If it were intended to be that way, this word would be much different. Less than half a percent of the population can kill, truly kill, without remorse or afterthought. These are psychotics. They are anomalies, and society roots them out and ends their lives by reciprocal murder, drug-educed comas or lifetime imprisonment. People like that are, as previously stated, counter-productive to the furtherance of the species.

When two bears struggle for territory or mating rights, it is extremely rare that either die, and in those few cases it is almost always accidental. In a wolf pack, the established Beta is merely relegated to a lower position of authority. Animals do not kill each other as a rule, not within their own species. They posture and tangle until a superior is cemented, and the group or adversaries adapt accordingly. So it is with people, most of the time. It is the beast of civilization that creates the greatest atrocity. The orders of kings and generals and presidents alone facilitate murder in the thousands. Civilization is as unnatural as the act of murder itself, but has proven itself an inevitability in our numbers, we are so many.

So as the vampire stood over the fallen young woman, the thing inside his once-human brain struggled with the pattern he needed to follow, largely muted through the re-wiring of his person post-transformation. The thing he was now, the demon, it needed to feed, and it overruled the primordial, natural impulses to the contrary.

Yet, there they were, yanking at his insides, begging for respite inasmuch as they could.

Hours passed, until a passerby couldn't help but notice him, recognize the scene. It was the vampire's un-motion that drew the stranger's attention, the stillness reserved for things dead or at least inanimate within the otherwise human form that registered as bizarre with the caveman inside him. Fear and defensive arousal brought the man's shoulders back and ears up, and he called out on reflex.

“What's going on in there?” He called, finding in the dark alley a second motionless body.

The vampire did not turn to face him. “Call an ambulance!” The inflection was dead-on, a worried, well-meaning man in a state of alarm, but emotionless nonetheless, and that emptiness rang clear just as his too-still petrified stance did. His mouth was still sticky with her blood.

Seconds after the stranger vanished, so too did the vampire.

Hideous waste, that girl.

Always the same.

Over rooftops he moved, kicking loose gravel and peering over edges to observe the comings and goings of humanity. On nights like tonight they do a beautiful, colorful dance in the city streets, howling and clamoring from nightclub to bar in pursuit of a story, a memory, a connection. People relate to this as depressing in the abstract, but in truth it's anything but. A testament to the human need to experience life on an altered plane, inspiring, if somewhat misguided. Their gravitation not unlike flocking birds, several would seem to turn on a dime, alerted to changes and danger all at once.

He would wade into such places with an air of pleased, detached interest. They were unique, each and every one, but patterns inevitably emerge and impending couplings became obvious.

He liked the way they danced.

The courting, the flirting, the intoxication, the arguments and fights... The recidivist nature of man lends itself to this sort of yearning. He'd pick one, by and by, seduce and allure, befriend and ally, promise opportunity or money or friendship or sex... For a time they'd taste of his offerings, a warm gesture and a little money spent. It wasn't hard to know a human, truly know them, in a very short time. He'd look into who they were and learn their hopes and values.

The people he liked lived on.

Whomsoever he disapproved of, not so much.

Now, this moment, his eyes were all for one girl. He could find individuals like a bloodhound finds a hare. There was an edge to her, a darkness... It is a tenant of the universe that victims are statically more likely to victimize, and those with haunted looks or faraway eyes brought him near without a thought. She looked like she'd seen things. She looked harder, stronger, experienced without age. It wasn't a good combination. Broken people hurt each other. Was their cruelty in this girl?

He had to know.

 

[Solas Dorchadas]

I just wanted to say that I enjoyed reading your posts They are wonderfully written with such beautiful imagery. I wish you luck in finding a partner.

 

[Silvamoon]

Free bump <3