Four RP's that are looking for rejuvenation right here on Roleplay Gateway
All right.
Hi. I am Tyro. The plan is simple: take your pick.
What we have here is a selection of some of my favourite RP's, three of the four I created and one I have attempted to keep going because I liked the concept so much. Now, all of these RP's have featured on the Roleplay Gateway in some fashion before but here you are allowed to suggest changes and ideas to mould them into something we can all enjoy. They're track records (with the exception of the second RP here) clearly show that none have never gotten off the ground here. I hope to show case their premises and inflame some excitement maybe so that anyone interested may collaborate on getting them started off.
There will be a poll where I'll ask for your vote and, until about Monday, you may vote on which ever RP you think should be created in the new, sparkly interface here.
Out first is the longest here and, arguably, my favourite out of the bunch. I give you...
Three Fantastic Toys
The RP about the three ultimate forms of 'cosmetic' surgery.
The best laid plans of mice and men, often derail in the most spectacular fashion.
Once upon a time, in a place your unlikely to have heard of, money appeared to be pouring out of everything. Those who gained the increasing wealth used it to float away from the masses below in their simplicity and dirt. They built to the clouds and made their own heavens on their top floors. Their civilization had reached its golden era, those lucky few peered down every so often. Sometimes to spit, or maybe to throw away left-overs.
But then these heavenly people realised that their forms let them down. Noses too long, face too wide or something sagging too much. Sound familiar? Vanity is, sadly, universal. Now, this became a market that a particular company could enter to exploit the elite of the sky. The profit gained would raise the companies shareholders above everyone else.They could build several towers into the sky. A monumental dream of these people, despite the trouble of building then filling just one skyscraper full of decoration and furniture. The company had to go big, setting their brightest minds to create ways of going past mere 'cosmetic surgery'.
Eventually, three monoliths of science, technology and achievement were designed and put into production.
The First was dubbed 'The Right To Beauty'. Sometimes referred to as 'the surgeon-o-matic'. This was cosmetic surgery far further developed than that of simple cutting. This machine was able to sculpt flesh, cartilage and bone. Molten marrow could be made into a statue of The Virgin Mary at prayer if you wanted. It could create limbs, weld skin and put most creation deities to shame. For a fee, of course.
The Second was dubbed 'The Right To Clean Thought'. It seems that the first machine was changed into that of a neurosurgeon because everything else is easy in comparison to a brain, it appears. Phobias, habits, nightmares and terrible memories can be purged from the client. New languages, knowledge, social graces, confidence and even new skills could be hard-wired in. It was thought to be very popular.
The Third was dubbed 'The Right To A Good Life'. The device was thought of to be the most dangerous and so had the highest of prices. It was planned to be put in the highest security that could be afforded for the device was a surgeon of history. A bizarre machine that wasn't fully understood: they knew it would work, they didn't know how entirely. This was marketed as a way of swapping lives with another. The two customers would be transplanted into each others' lives, sometimes causing changes in the events simply for being a different person. This was the most feared machine. People were to be hired to investigate the client's entire life and hypothesise how the second person would live that life and its consequences. Finally, a machine for the jealous to take what they covet.
The next part of the story is simple: Revolution. Their equivalent of Marxism spread through the billions on the surface. They took the towers in the sky with their forceful numbers, declaring them their new home, kicking the elite from their perches to become a smear on the ground rather than a dot in the sky.
The company moved their almost complete machines to a new location. They new that the greed and vanity they wanted to take advantage of will grow again in the new order of things. So they finished their machines. These three machines, from scrap and springs and sharp things. Their creatures of vanity's salvation were built with half glittering shine and half rusted blotchy scarlet.
"The history lesson is fascinating but I don't understand what it has to do with us?" Pads made dull thuds as they stormed in front of the prisoners. The occasional sweep of black, white-tipped brushes on the cool floor.
"Sarcasm and no hint of picking up where I'm leading. Rather stupid, aren't we? Have you no sense of narrative? No idea what a lead-up is?" He said without actually looking towards his captives. Its an intimidation thing...
"Be quiet! Our top men have been alerted! They will hunt you down within the hour. You cannot get away with this." The squat, red-faced man looked like he'd blow his top. His large cheeks wobbled as he shock his head.
"No. The correct answer is 'Yes, we are, My Lord'." His flat tone showed his distaste. They all passed through sliding glass doors. The prisoners were made to halt before the mangled majesty of three machines. Axels, pistons, gear levers, wheel hubs, metal scraps all sat in awkward juxtaposition with brand new, just blown glass domes or tubes with state-of-the-art terminals or polished chrome panels. Their computing brains chimed together in random melodies as his men continued to check, tinker and maintain these bizarre machines. They stood like looming monsters watching ants fiddle with them as the low-lying sun glowed like pyres to obscure the machine's twisted faces.
"What in all of creation are these?" Piped up the self-appointed leader of the captives. At least we was still up to talking. He thought it was stupidity or bravery coming through. Its a fine line.
"A fairy tale of business. Each machine is a way of changing oneself." His metal plated hand gestures towards the machine to his left. "His first machine that was intended to revolutionise cosmetic surgery operations. It is a marvel of engineering and your modern surgery techniques. It is part robotic surgeon, part Deity as it carves and remakes your body a-new."
The hand moves to in front of him to what looks like the worlds most frightening dentist chair. Something resembling a metal spider, needles attached to each leg, twitched over where the patient was expected to place their head.
"Von Damm, one of the minds that built this said it was an attempt at curing personality traits the owners found unsavoury, ladies and gentlemen. A Neural mechanic that can isolate the part of your tiny little psyches and remove it. Forgetfulness, Jealousy, Wrathfulness, Sloth can all be pulled out of your little heads, never to be worried about again. We can even put traits back. New ones that we might find useful, like Wrathfulness, Obedience, Depression, Insomnia, Paranoia or even another personality altogether. "
"But," He paused for the dramatic effect. Intimidation is a show, after all. "These are nothing but complicated pairs of scissors in the complexity of -"
The lead up was larger than he liked but his heavy and swift rush towards the final machine would have to do. Three tubes, one with a console inside with a constantly throbbing grill, pumping energy round the pipes of the machine like a heart within a heath. He beams at his captives.
"This! This is a machine that will surgically transplant your time-line to someone else while placing you in there's. One past is replaced slowly with another, causing simple ripples though your own time-line. Sometimes nothing major happens but you need the right pair, or so I'm told. This hasn't been tested yet. I'm sure you'll help. It was sold eventually after a long while. It was being sold as a way of making an alternate universe to physicists."
"Your, your 'toys' don't scare us!" The short, fat one was getting to be rather good fun. He put up a little fight at least.
"Maybe my toys will when we send you through the first of my machines and stop it halfway." The grin slit across his face like it had cut open his lips. The black paws took strong steps towards the little man. The ebony-furred, metal plated hand grabbed at his scruff and dragged him off his feet.
"Wha...what are you doing?" The man said.
"Intimidation by demonstration if you must know. Your not the greatest wit of your world but we have the means to change that..." The in-take of breath was followed by the desperate hammering and tugging and clawing so that he might be let go. The man's fists never dented the perfectly fitting, silver armour. Neither did the nails. Nor did his fingers manage to rip him away from the grip that dragged his sweating body towards the 'Right To A Clean Mind'. He was hoisted to his feet before slammed into the chair by his neck.
"I want some discipline cut into this one." The Black Fox said to the machine's operator. "By 10:30, I want a new servant in a cocktail dress. Do I make myself clear?"
The needles twitch into life.
In the air outside, you can hear the over-throw. Each punch equals each gun-discharge that brightens the sides of buildings like intermittent fairy lights. Velice's downfall is played out by the last of its mean being overwhelmed and a machines gentle humming.
Velice is the technological centre of centres, if that makes sence. Its constantly kept in a pretective shield that filters air, making things clean and safe. Machine slaves build more machines, all made with some level of sense. It would be stupid to waste full blown AI on everything, even though its always readily availiable. An uprising is not needed at all. Everything is reasonably peacful. Most jobs are rarely anything too manual, usually something simple behind a desk. The 'flying car' is common place and so, to a lesser extent at least, are robots.
However, Velice has been invaded and appears to have been invade by an army of myth and legend this society ignores as gibberish. A purple flag flutters in the breeze in Nevolio Technologies: a resonable machinery company that has been turned into the invaders' HQ. The Council of Velice has either died or sits at the summit of the HQ building after being tested on.
A band of shop keepers have bravely sent a message of help after a mass excecution, in public, after Halfis Hardwares refused to make weapons for the inavders. It was the second of four that was meant to send a message of compliance with problems areas.
Obviously, you've answered and are willing to help.
This RP has a lot of potential for a lot of things. Effectively, each machine is a dangerous asset to the Villian's and so much be recovered. They can also result in bizarre alterations to characters, especially if their not careful.
Our next was originally by Essa of Canada back in 2009 when soon after I first arrived here. I enjoy the simple premise of switching the focus of characters as well as a chance to stretch Kyrios' legs. So, this is a alternative and updated version of...
Your Invited
Let our your inner Villian.
"I want an army that doesn?t respond to pain...An army that is fearless, vile, and cruel."
Lord Kyrios is also, often known as The Black Fox, is looking for the exceptional of the exceptional to join his already vast ranks in the highest position possible within Kyrios' army of purple armour: A General. These are strange, powerful and often dangerous individuals. The best of the best and often the rarest of the rare. A kind of monster expected to act as a queen commanding pawns. They are loyal to their men and Kyrios, or he deal with the man personally.
So, who are you in this tale? A regular townsfolk lured by the promise of money, power and that cushy seat? Or perhaps a fighter from a world Kyrios controls and has decided to join ranks when you cannot beat them? A mage that was promised knowledge beyond that of a commoner, or even an elder from hundreds of civilisations kept in library after library? Twisted monster or curious oddity to valuable not to be added to the ranks? A heartless creature that was hired by the Lord to push these people that was unfortunate enough to fall for the trickery? A demon to watch over things?
He awaits your reply in the Invitation to the estate where he intends to meet with you. From there, it's not known what happens.
Don't we have a lot of heroes on this site? We have plenty of warriors that will fight for the good in the world. I find it refreshing occasionally to act as a total and utter git.
The RP has always centred around the idea of just "Moogles in a Tank". It's silly, I know, but I hope I justified such a odd image in...
Final Fantasy: The Moogle Front
Because Moogles haven't been given enough spot light. Also, they get to build a tank to get around in; what's not to like?
Winter has been unusually harsh to Rabanastre, victimising the city rather than anywhere else. Its long outstayed its welcome and hit the city far too hard for rational explanation. Its left its snow with regular blizzards, its made it difficult to walk through the streets, its rendered many bed ridden with everything to simple colds to Pneumonia. Many citizens are finding that keeping fires going isn't quite enough. Many sources of heat like steam vents, heaters, even just a warm room are swamped or turned into a sort of business where access to warmth has to be brought. The Arcadians are being blamed.
The Arcadian ruler is displeased with the fact that he has to make regular pleas to other cities for clothing scraps or fuel for fires. Judges in thick hides, furs and boots chase leads to the cause of the snow. Spring is reported to be a month late for Rabanastre but no-where else so suspicions are high.
Many Hunter clans within the city are also conducting their investigations. Due to the strange weather hitting the indigenous species hard and making most forms of travel near impossible, their lively-hood appears to be at stake. A group of frustrated hunters exacerbates things. Guilds of clothing in the city are having a huge boon in business, but only as long as material arrives regularly from donations. Hunting for skins and fur from animals that are nearly wiped out wouldn't help anyone at this point.
One such group, however, is planning a cunning way of escaping to find help past the Eastersands. The Moogle Front is a group that back up moogles in trouble. If they don't have legal representation for instance, The Front will provide. Help on starting a buisness, The Front will point to an expert. If a thick layer of snow is able to render a city mostly paralysed then that's bad for every Moogle's business. Drops in temperature could kill of customers and its their civic duty. So the plam was to build a machine that could escape the snow through the Eastersands to eventually evacuate or bring more aid to Rabanastre. One snag: it has be built from whatever can be begged, borrowed or taken from within the city's walls.
Plans about using an old mining machine was being spread. Effectively, the Moogle's would be creating an ice-tank. A few mechanics have been modifying welding equipment to throw fire. Other's have been working on a heating system that runs on a rechargeable energy source. Rumour may be becoming truth...
Moogles tend to get side-lined a lot. There's very few works that attempt to make them, one of the smallest parts of this world, the centre of a story. Of course, the city name is really only a place-holder until something better can be thought of.
And lastly, my attempt at seeing if you could drag a Kingdom Hearts RP away from the typical ideas that are created. There are hundreds, I'm sure, of RP's that deal with some incarnation of an organisation. While I enjoy that style of RP as much as the next fox, I wondered about dragging it back to a new, mounting threat that was poised to swamp entire worlds in darkness and decay. I would even see if I could tempt people away from a keyblade but I am, as of yet, clueless how.
So finally...
Kingdom Hearts: Luna's Gambit
Because sometimes there needs to be another legend underneath the over-hanging one...
This one requires a little bit of info about it. It's an attempt at creating something new from the Kingdom Hearts Universe that I enjoy so much. The worlds have been used for mainly trying to add to the cannon by making a bespoke version of the yet-to-be-released Kingdom Hearts III. I hope to create a side-line to the tail of a boy in red shorts trying to fight monsters with a giant key. So I create this: An RP where other types of character are encouraged. Key-barers are allowed but I hope for other, more unique characters to appear.
Lastly, to set the tone of this RP intro: !Please listen to this!
Worlds build themselves up with legends. Places grab a little piece of some fantastical truth and retell it, over and over and over. Thousands, like myself, will dig through what has been added to freshen the legend up to keep it at its most exciting and wondrous. The pursuit of what really happened becomes rather important. What caused this to happen? Is it actually possible that it did? Or possibly didn't? Sometimes, I have to ask whether is actually matters. The truth, I mean. Is it so important to know all the facts? Legends fall apart when scrutinised, I've found. The amazing steps that count more going up then coming down, for example.
There is one that I can't refute.
They say that the moon has siblings. Brothers or sisters floating around worlds out there that are remote but connected if you know how. They say that these moons talk. They watch over the people below, living their lives while apparently unaware of anything outside of their own, personal world. This bubble is easily shattered or moved into. Anyone can move into your bubble. Luna, as I have found, is the only creature I have ever heard of that will move in without you realising. She will simply emerge like you've known her for years. I cannot understand how or why, but we would talk for hours about my other close friends and relatives without me ever having to explain anything. She knew.
Her intentions are delivered in a blunt manner however. After what felt like a day, she explained that I had strayed from my destiny, at the end of the week. That's what she came for. She sees what your heart has gone through, feels what is to be done to it later, convincing you that this is what should always have been. And how can you say 'no' to such wide, deep blue eyes? I am expected to make a supreme sacrifice. A darkness is being manipulated, she said, one that will bring a chill to our worlds that promises to wipe them clean. For payment! Of all things, payment is what boils my blood as en excuse for destruction. Luna told me they had the heartless onside. She said they were the source of power for whatever was fuelling this charge.
Luna is gambling with more than just me. I must use my life to bring warriors here. On the top of the tower above the station. I will drop this letter into the winds in the hope that someone reads this. Then I give myself to the endless back and hope that I am to save the worlds. Its plural. Luna has opened my eyes and I wouldn't open my heart for anyone else.
Dr. Jiles George Finton Meyansol
Now you know why there's a monstrous dragon coiled around the station clock.
Now that you've read this far, go! Go and think! Ponder and explore ideas for characters. From the noble warriors of fate or misfortune to the disgusting creature of sin and villainy you may become. Any questions? Please let me know! Nothing's made sense or you've spotted a mistake or you'd like to know more,let me know. All ideas welcomed.
Thanks for reading.
Tyro
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