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DoctorRed
Moon
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2011
Have a seat, let's take your temperature.
Hey there. I'm DoctorRed, if you didn't notice, and I would love to collect more and more role-plays, obviously. There are things that I love very much and, unfortunately, there are things that I very much do not love, as with all people but as I'm rubbish at both Request Threads and at figuring out what I want completely, I'll try not to waste your time too much. This is really just mindless prattle. The list down there is what you're looking for, if you haven't already scrolled past this. I don't blame you, I do it all the time.
Say 'Ahhhhhhh~'
Things that I will probably be all for.
-I like new and different things, There's nothing I won't try once, and nothing I'm going to absolutely dismissed if it's detrimental to being a partner to someone. I'll try to give some leeway but I expect that it be done for me as well.
-I enjoy romance,and the squishy, messy parts, and I'm not going to fuss that something seems unrealistic or out of place. I'll let you have your fun, but if we make a plot, keep to it, don't discard it for sexy-time. It will ruin my opinion of you, completely. I'd rather have a smut role-play alongside a literate and coherent one to placate someone than derail a role-play for something like that.
-Science Fiction stuff is a guilty pleasure of mine, I really do enjoy that. But seriously.
-If you have something you want to play and you haven't been able to find someone to fulfill; Ask me. I'm sure I'll consider it, so long as it's not something I find uninteresting, and the worst I can say is 'no'. And I rarely do that, either. I'm much more likely to try and convince you to modify it and play it with you, so don't worry too much about it. Honestly, just ask.
Don't Put That In Your Mouth
Seriously. Stop that Shit.
-One-Liners-Dropping without saying anything. Seriously, I'd tell you.
-I don't really get interested in much of the fan-bases. This is something I'm willing to budge on, but you'd have to really get my jimmies rustled for it. I'm just not nuts about that kind of thing, to be honest.
"Take Two of These ...And Call Me Next Week."
In conclusion, just ask. I'd be delighted to hear it, and if I know someone who would fit the bill better, I'll let you and that person know. If I want it, you'll be the first to know, and we'll talk more about it. Message away, I'm never too busy to talk even if it's about little things. I'm up for anything and looking for everything. When you do message me, which, if you've read this far and not skipped to the samples below, you must be considering, try to save yourself a message; Link me to a sample you want me to see. I'm certainly going to look for them, in your post history, which I wholly expect to see from you as well. Please and thank-you~. <3
AS A REMINDER
These samples below are just favorites, they're not my regular/average posts at all. Don't be intimidated by the length or anything, it's not the standard I want to set, it's just some samples of writing. Some of them aren't even posts, so, yeah!
Please contact me, if you're interested, I'm really easygoing. <3
I'll add some samples and some things I'm looking for in a moment~! <3
Wake up,
Live again, and Discover, Captain Aeron
The dead man stuttered back to life, and it was one of the most painful acts he had ever forced upon his body, more painful ever than there had been, greater than the loss of his left eye and arm, and more so than he could have fathomed the mechanized implants had ever cost his psyche. The man felt his heart shiver with electricity as probes lit the thing up, causing it to quiver and thunder in his ears. Blood started to work, and his lungs, previously empty gasped for air, pulling it down greedily from the fixture over his mouth and nose. The nodes that connected to his body rolled about, their whirring mechanisms working to activate his muscles and body, rousing him from his slumber, bringing his dead body back to life. He opened his right eye to the watery coffin that he'd slept in for what must have been a few years, at least. He never knew. There were ways of knowing, to calculate how old, chronologically, his body truly was, but what did it matter? The world, System, Galaxy and Universe were what you made of them, right?
The fluid in the clear prison he'd placed himself in was draining to his feet, the water He shivered, the newly flowing blood and steady stream of nutrients he was being fed chilled him, but this wasn't his first time, and it wouldn't be the last. He was just going to have to endure it, and learn to handle it. He eyed the console before him blearily in the dark, his eye adjusting slowly to read. He looked at the planet patiently, reading across the description and noting different facts about it. It could have passed for a drunkenly rendered Earth, as far as he could have told anyone, since he'd never seen it, but he supposed it must be similar. Green brown and blue. Whitish clouds. The climates seemed akin to earth in ways, but it was hotter, to some degree. It was good that things were measured in relative ratings as a sidebar, but sometimes he pondered the wisdom in that. Most of the humans had never seen earth when they were awake. Returning meant little, as there was nothing left to be seen. What purpose was there in going to an empty spot in a forgotten solar system? It was just a heap of crust left, the bread gone for centuries.
Their home, long discarded, the humans had taken everything they could, which amounted to a considerable achievement. When the world ended, billions of humans entered into the mass exodus from their home and sought refuge in the stars, their planet dying under their feet rapidly. So they had formed a new system, a method of finding new homes by telescopes and sending the Seeds out to attempt to analyze and cultivate land far away. It took many years, but the human race had a confidence that few could deny in their theories and philosophies. By using the Theory of Relativity, they were able to assume that somewhere out there, the conditions existed/could be created/ would one day occur to make a second earth, another Terra where they could live freely as before.
Seeds were ships designed to begin a new world. A colonies worth of near-inexhaustible, easily amassed energy that would make the trip out to vast reaches, though time often stood in the way of expedited discoveries. As far as the man knew, the Seed was to accomplish his mission, and nothing could be a more sure sign to him than the lone planet he could see, with it's multiple moons circling lazily around it.
Discover.
Explore.
Sample.
Analyze.
Peace.
Cultivate.
Plant Seeds.
Grow.
Seven simple steps. He hardly needed implants to bear them in mind, or know that they were his ture objective, in everything he did. The mission remained the same, no matter where or when he woke up. A tingling at the base of the skull rose and he felt his eye and left arm flicker to life. He'd lost both of them before becoming a Seed. He'd been working on a space station in the early days, before the Seeds or the Cultvating, and some machinery had gone haywire and ground the arm to dust. Hunks of it had spattered him, coating his body in gore and bone. Some reflexes simply weren't enough. He'd managed to more or less gouge out his own eye in the altercation. Trifling, these days, with modern medicine and prosthetic, it was possible to regrow his eye, but the function had been gone to him. He'd had it replaced with a less-natural but mufti-functioning cyborg eye.
The thing flickered in and out, before emitting a more steady, faint light. It passively set about measuring and analyzing everything he looked upon. With this he was able to access more data than the regular implants that most of his people were now born with. Not that too damn many of them were being born. It was rare to see the population growing, as each of the Seed ship was filled to the brim, carrying a thousand opaque pods. Each one would activate in turn if he should be slain, or if he should find a place to call their home. Time was a luxury for some, but why wait? The hibernating humans they traveled around were what was needed to start society and they had them in abundance.
The man flexed slowly, running his body through a series of self-administered tests to assess his physical condition and ponder if he really felt like he'd been asleep more than a few hours. It always felt more like blinking than sleep, and he never felt fully rested, but at least he didn't feel like he'd died and come back to life by some technological marvel. He loathed it, but it was better to use his youth to his advantage than spend the long years grating through as an old man, simply riding a ship through the vast blackness of space. At least, that would be what he imagined. Who would want to live that way? Some of his trips took fifty years. Could he honestly say that he'd want to spend fifty years waiting only to find that he'd grown old and feeble for a failed opportunity, or a rotten planet?
The man stood now, all six-feet of fit male human, sans one eye and one arm, at age thirty two. He had shaved his head bald and had the hair lazered from his body to keep from wasting his time awake maintaining it. He missed it sometimes, but never regretted it. At his age, time was something he couldn't afford to wast dallying about, right? Probably. Some would say that it was time he start looking to move up, and become a Fruit captain, one of the floating hulks that traveled from Tree with the Seeds, trying to spread them carefully through the universe. It would certainly garner him better implants, but it would be a prison. Even maimed, the captain was more interested in adventure and discovery than he'd ever been in power or authority. Sure, he was his own boss in the sense that he was responsible for his own productivity, but what more was there out here?
The captain of his own ship, and in unfamiliar territory, he left the pod before it finished drying his body and stood before a case, before selecting one of the suits he wore. The only type of garment he owned, not that there was something better. Fitted to his body, the suit fit like a glove and protected him more thoroughly than any sort of thing he'd worn before. The only thing that came off as more durable was the metallic left arm that got suited up anyways. With all the gadgets and tools that the suit came with, it was hard to deny it's careful design and well-made ability to be used as a defense and more importantly, it made his work go more smoothly.
Need to hide? Change color. Need to jump? Trust the suit and your implants, it'll work out. Need some food? There was even some supply in it, nutrients he could take from to retain his energy and press on, when his body would have normally failed him. In the ship, and on 'safe mode' the bald man stood carefully into soft boots and felt the whole suit flex and churn slightly around him as it was plugged into his brain and interfaced with him. He shuddered once, and then felt himself grow more comfortable, as if he'd put on an extra skin, one that would be more useful than the tissue he wore beforehand. It was something he was used to, it made him feel...complete. Secure.
The helmet of the suit folded down, to cover the back and sides of his neck, while the rest of his body was encased in what looked to be hard plates mixed with mesh and other substances. It was the best defense, and standard-issue. He found himself flexing in it, marveling at the miraculous thing as he often did before he left the Sleeping Room and stood in the bridge of his ship. He looked down on the planet from space and drew his breath slowly before whistling at it slowly, letting the note fall as he pressed a gloved fingertip to the screen with a clink. Turning, he moved to the walls and looked over the product he was trying so very hard to deliver. Scores of men and women. All of them his allies and friends, his kin. The people he was trying to give a home to. The future hung on his walls, and gazed upon him through their opaque cases, waiting for him to put them where they belonged. To plant.
The ship had already analyzed the planet for a full rotation and mapped out some civilization on the face of it, taken a once-over to the moons it could find from it's position. It seemed interesting and promising. From here he was shown a handful of the indigenous species, creatures who lived there already. He perused the files and catalog, waving his fingers in carefully rehearsed gestures as his eye and implants worked together to show them in his vision, rather than on screens while he read the facts the systems were able to analyze. Only so much the machines would do, else they'd have been able to do all of they're work in probes and drones, but it was... too impersonal. Too methodical. It was a blight, to be caught 'Automating'. What a deplorable act, as having a planet monitored and judged in such a fashion...
Aeron stood on the platform as it lowered him into the bowels of the Seed, to the where his smaller, more versatile ship waited, sitting patiently like a good dog. Whatever those were. He assumed it must be as it was meant to be as he pulled himself up into the ship, using the neuro connectors on his suit to jack in and find himself leaving the main ship and moving to the planet at a measured pace, moving to avoid an orbiting moon with an easy grace before he punched it, his ship hurtling towards the planet with abandon, his excitement getting the better of him, his eyes dancing mentally, thrilled. He made no effort to especially mask his approach, as such a thing would be nothing more than a streak of light across the sky, no more interesting than a shooting star to what he figured were probably primitive creatures regardless.
Maybe they were still the primitive sort who believed that it would be a sign for change, and a new era. They would be right, Aeron thought as he landed his ship in a wooded clearing, before removing his connectors and settling himself into the earth once, before waving it away. The ship took off, leaving him there, alone on an alien planet, watching the ship flicker in the sky past the moon, waiting for his next order. It would come, after a few more steps. No sense leaving a hulking evidence of his presence here until he was ready to make himself known. He stood and stretched in the clearing, letting the helmet fall back over his face and head, obscuring his vision less than it enhanced his sense, drawing in the sweet smells of grass and trees, listening patiently as he rolled his vision along the forest, thrill rising in his heart, causing it to pound as the suit shifted slowly into the dark greens to match, obscuring him from any onlookers at least a bit in the darkness.
For a what seemed thousand years, the spider had slept. It's conception had been in their domain, on the mossy floors of the jungle where the gods had turned their eyes away, letting the terror of life run amok. Arachnid families warred in their trapping and hunting among tribes. Most had died out since those times, but their memories were burned into the eyes of any who had witnessed them.
The slumbering spider in question was one of a bastards' birth. He'd been part of a swarm born out of their tribe had been cast out. Their growth augmented and they became more powerful, but were forced to try and carve out life as their own tribe. Members of the specie that were born into the wild and didn't make it were devoured.
Powers seeped in and when the spiders had matured, fewer of them remained. With their numbers down to eight, they set out to rip apart the brood mother that had dispatched them as young-lings. They struck down their mother and when the clans had formed an alliance to attack the lot of them, they'd fled, centuries past into the human world, where they would encounter fewer of their brothers.
A clean, new world, something new to defile. A young creature to devour.
Many years past and eight of the spiders set out. At first, they were together, but more often they would overlap on one another and it would cause minor conflict and strife. With an agreement to convene every now and again and share the build up of power and new developments, they set out, striking out on their own and finally, the monsters of another world were given the chance to develop individually. Each of them plotting to devour the others when they would finally return. The deception of a spider is rivaled only by their cunning and patience. So they would wait, and prepare to destroy one another.
The first time they met, eight arrived, and eight departed. This would be the final time. The time apart had changed the monsters into different reflections of the same thing. In the same way their ancestors had, they were becoming so different and so alike, they remained largely the same, but distinctly changed. Like monsters, their shape and form was malleable, something to be changed on a whim. They evolved and changed, flourished and withered as though they were a race unto themselves each. They hunted one another in the shadows and in a only a few days, the four weakest were devoured. Four spiders remained, the four most cunning and powerful, they spread even farther away from one another.
The years were long, but the spider who had recently awoken rose to a world where man had ruled, the creatures that were the gods' playthings. He studied them from afar, carefully moving along their boundaries, straying seldom into view and walking along the edges of their civilization. In time the physical body he'd accrued had become massive, an epic monstrosity, but the humans seemed to have become adept at finding him. He had to start casting off some of his mass and reduce a bit of his physical size, the size falling down to a human size. It was at this size, the first time a human was lost at the time that he'd had a wonderful idea.
Watching other tribes as a young critter, he'd seen other spiders adopt the skin of others. It was bizarre and grotesque. A demeaning and pride less act of devouring the innards of another creatures and taking on its' persona and skin in a way that would cause many to lose themselves in the falsity. It was awkward at first, rather than shed a skin he was adhering it to his own carapace, He'd placed the face where it should go. His body contorted and stretched until he'd finally fit; it'd taken a few tries and the skin had torn a few times, but finally, the spider was a man, at least on the outside.
He lived for a long time, devouring and becoming new people, rising in ranks and stepping back to obscure the trail of bodies that he devoured and became. It was centuries before one of his brothers found him again and recognized him early on, lashing out during a weak point. They wounded one another, the humans around them dead or dismembered by their battle as the monsters fought and struggled, the larger one full of power but clumsy,the smaller nimble, but weakened by his slightness and lack of size. The two were at odds before the larger cast the other down into a pit, where he stole the skin of a king and stood above the bleeding brother.
With their last gazes, a newborn king with devils hearts beneath sealed his brother in a vault below, where for a thousand years, no one would happen upon, where the spider would become smaller, more frail as it devoured the small creature that would come. But even the rodents and refuse would become fewer and fewer still, as time passed. He was a monster, but it was hard for him to do much with only a hunk of his power and strength remaining to him. He wept and wailed, raged and roared against his earthen cage, but to no avail. Slowly, he turned inside himself and rested, his body diminishing to the size he'd been born to, no more than a hand to a body as he waited, and bided his time. He plotted his revenge, killing the insects and rodents in a lethargic manner, waiting to be released, so he could return to his rampage and claim vengeance on his brother.
He sat patiently, reared up on his tail as he watched the darkness, his long tongue flicking out to smell there air patiently, watching for the elevator. Sometimes when it shivered down it's housing it came here, to him and he was able to see one of the few people who came to visit him and care for him. The man-snake was a curious creature and often found himself watching the elevator when he had copious amounts of free time and found himself tired of his normal activities.
In his 'den' he had the comforts that might have been found in the outer world. Lately he'd taken very much to stretching out his long and cool body against the delicious warmth of the electric blankets and reading from the shelves that he worked through every day, studying different sciences and even some fiction as he enjoyed his time alone. Loneliness was nothing new to him and he filled the time with studying and learning, just as his father had instructed him, setting him to the task of learning more and more about medical supplies and techniques, and even some biology. He was a creature who fed largely on knowledge and even more largely on the hunks of meat that he was given once a month to digest. He often found himself relishing them and even studying the meat before he ate it, but hunger often stole that away from him.
His den was a large room away from the place where the elevator led to the floor, the only real access he had to the outside world. Two doctors often checked on him every other day, one early and one late. One tucked him in and the other woke him up gently to have him given a sense of time. Currently it was night, but he'd been pacing about, thinking over what he'd learned before he had curled up over his crimson tail to ponder the thing he'd learned. Did all humans hate deformities, like his? He wanted to ask, to find the answers. But no one had been around since then and it was irksome to wait. He hated waiting more than anything else. He tugged at the shirt he wore, a flimsy cotton thing that covered his waist and had special holes to be cut in for his second set of arms. They were warm things, but sometimes felt kind of restrictive.
The creature was a marvel to behold, his body mostly a length of tail, the red and yellow scales glistening to the light whenever they were touched by it and the rest of his body was that of a man, though for some reason when he'd been born he'd had four arms instead of two. While the pair that joined his natural shoulders were larger than the others, a second set of shoulders were below and gave him a set of slightly smaller arms, and shorter, their length taking them to the tips of his other hands, where they ended, if both arms were hung limply. The effect gave him a soft of second pair of biceps and his shoulder blades seemed to be divided between the pairs of shoulders. His body looked strange to most, but the top half seemed mostly human, save for the eyes.
A red pair of eyes leered through thick locks of yellow and gold hair, peering out upon the elevator shaft as it opened. He was fair despite his terrifying appearance, the pale skin that never had known the kiss of the sun so it remained pale like a corpse and crossed with scars of needles and burns, different medical treatments seemed to have been used on his pale flesh and skin as his lips curled into a curious frown as he looked upon the woman who approached in the darkness. Her silhouette outlined before the elevator snapped shut, he tilted his hair, his darker tongue kissing the air in a swift motion as he smelled her from there, his pupils widening to leer at her while his eyes narrowed to scrutinize her.
He'd raised his head when she'd entered and felt his tail lash about, his body unfurling a little to get extended and then coiling a bit under him as his torso rose to the average human height, leering into the dark with an affable look on his lips. He'd learned it by imitating the doctors who visited him, though his bore no pain like the doctors who usually looked upon him did.
Terror. Panic flooded the man as he finally emerged from the dirt, clawing his way up and sinking to the earth exhausted. His mouth was full of dirt, but he didn't even notice the taste now. The man found himself only half-awake, his body on the cold earth. He'd dug himself up from the ground, leering at the night sky for a few moments. He was dead. Of that there was no arguing. He'd been a man trying to split up three drunks in an alleyway one night and the last had lost his cool and knifed him. He'd laid just like this as his blood pooled around him, and filled his mouth.
So why was he blinking and drawing breath again? He'd felt the blades cut him open, gutting him so... so long ago. His mind reeled and his hands rose, to hold it, though only one answered the call. But he was awake now. Wasn't he? When he saw his hand reaching out, he didn't recognize it. Pale and bloated, the thing was like a claw, gripping at his head, and when he reeled away from it, his slow reflexes not responding well, tufts of hair and rotting flesh came away, to fall on the ground. A horrified moan erupted from his throat, and soon the chorus of his monstrous howling song came roaring back all around him.
The corpses surrounded him, their bodies limping and compensating slowly for their lack of many parts and their addled brains. He licked his lips to look upon them, his new abominations. The zombies stank awfully, but it had been a great and long time since the smell had made his gut twist about and cause him to retch. He was no longer the apprentice, bringing his poor pet back to life, only to be maimed by the creature.
Years ago, in a cellar, he'd had to beat the mad dog down with the human skull he'd used to summon the infernal thing. He still remembered the eyes that seemed so loving in life, turning to burning pits of rage as they turned upon him. He'd walked a long road since then, and worked hard. Now he was a master, and his finger replaced. The skin wasn't the same, and the bones under it were a bit bigger than the rest, wider and darker, but the fingers worked, no matter how fearsome they were. They were hardly the only parts of his body he'd modified with his wicked ways.
Standing among the limping creatures he'd breathed unlife into int he last few hours, the man stood tall. A briefcase lay open at his feet, illuminating his features, reflecting in his darkened eyes. The deep browns glowed eerily as he leered out among the thriving legion that was slowly making its way to him, their bodies broken, his army not so far from him. He was milky pale, his hair curls of light brown that hung about his shoulders, framing the flesh that looked like it spent it's life in the shadows. His body was thin and emaciated, but the frame was clad in thin silken shirts and slacks that clung to his seemingly frail body. He looked as though he might be handsome if he had simply eaten more, or drank in sunlight more often, but it didn't seem to bother him.
On his fingers there were many bones that he'd carved into rings, their runes and inscriptions a myriad of symbols and each finger enjoying the grasp of a unique one, though the strangest attire he wore were the skulls he held in each hand.
The case at his feet shone green and bright in the darkness, the ingredients amassed there as they gave off their hideous spell to the creatures, before he slammed it closed with a boot heel. He raised his voice after a while, the darkness that chased the receding light descending upon his new slaves as they groaned out their displeasure, turning their hungry and hateful eyes upon him, but never moving within the circle of bodies he'd laid out. The groundskeeper, the gravedigger, the priest and the whores he'd taken from the town nearby. Their bodies were mangled, their eyes lifeless as their naked bodies shuddered and tried to rise, then fell again. 'Such is the price of true abhorrence,' he reminded himself as he turned his gaze upon the closest structures, where he knew more of the humans lived.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he held in his palms were the pair of skulls, both of which bore a thousand different little engravings as they leered out over the corpses, glaring a bit as they cackled in his fingers. They spoke a bit, a jarring language of dusty vowels and mumbled consonants, but the sounds brought a laugh and a smile to his lips, pulling them back from his teeth. It wasn't long as they conversed amongst the three of them, before he bade the legion of the graveyard to approach the city, their march moving out well past midnight, across fields and yards, smashing and crushing the small obstacles and climbing over what they could, their eyes leering lazily, but their bodies full of hatred and vengeance.
Sitting among the tombstones, the man set about calling those who couldn't move well for themselves or respond well to his commands and pulling them apart patiently, sorting and organizing, leaving the working chunks in a pile and discarding the rest, casting them into an open grave, where he'd shoved the bodies he'd paid for this travesty with. Soon they'd be ripping apart the community of the city to the north, their ravaging unhindered by the autumn wind that blew, the leaves masking their shuffling a bit. A cackle rose up among the ones who could still talk, though many moaned along, or tried to, the monsters hungry for more of the dish they knew best; Death.
War had been declared this night, and soon all the humans nearby would know it, but not for long. Not if the Necromancer could help it. And he was going to, with every ounce of his power, make sure that he cleansed the area of their presence.