Minorikawa

Fairy Dust

Duck Tales

Modern and fantasy are a bit self-explanatory in regards to the kinds of content you can expect, but did you have anything in mind for sci-fi to be consistent? Or is that generally up to the players to explore and decide on their own since it's open-ended? So you can have some players with characters in space, others in a post-apocalypse, and others in cyberpunk?

Nut busters

LFP > Female I actually missed this thread and already went and put up an introductory post. Not seeking anything too complex. Perhaps something public yet discrete, hidden around a corner or under a table. I tend to write in paragraphs and prefer a partner that can match. Light bondage elements are fine.

Ghost busters!

Newfound glory

Poker night

Dino rider!

Beer tap

"Knob Creek, three fingers, a splash of water," Marcus leisurely ordered from the female bartender, one of many on staff. Clad in a red t-shirt and jeans, a leather jacket wrapped about his strong arms and concealing his holster firearm, his eyes watched as the bubbly little employee executed the simple order with the expected finesse. He placed a twenty on the counter, winking and nodding. "Thanks, sweety," he said, raising the glass and taking a sip, though his eyes were primarily on her breasts. They jiggled with every slight motion, no doubt intended to draw as much attention as possible to encourage the largest of tippers. He wasn't about to stick around and flirt, though. Not with the bartender, at least. Everyone hit on the bartenders. If you wanted a chance to score with one you either had to be top tier handsome with the charisma to match, or you needed to play the long game. Though Marcus was certainly on the photogenic side, he certainly wasn't quite good looking or charming enough to nab the bartender on the first night. He wasn't sure he was up for the long game yet, either. Even if he was coming back, he didn't know if he'd come back with fun in mind. Stepping away from the bar, he allowed his eyes to roam the dimly lit environment. The owner certainly favored dark, soothing colors. It was very much a kind of lounge, exclusive in style, not a club intended for rowdy College students or high school kids with fake IDs to come overdrink, dance until they were sick, and then dispose of their booze in the back alley. This was a location intended for adults, or those of a more... quiet nature. Introverted or conversational, it was designed to tickle the mind... though, given some of the activities occurring in the darker corners, it wasn't just the mind being tickled. For now, though, Marcus was intending to watch. Observe. Maybe strike up a conversation with a regular, or perhaps get to know another fresh face to the establishment. How did your average patron come to discover this place, after all? Finding an empty, semi-circular booth capable of seating maybe four or five, he slid himself between the table and purple cushions, taking another sip of his drink, wrapped one arm around the back of his seat – always careful not to reveal his holster as he did so – and began to watch and observe. His expression was a mask, an amused smile and eyes darting about as if in wonder, almost as if he was deciding what he should do first. Or who he should do first. Though... well, that was always lingering somewhere in his mind. He couldn't lie about that.

I realized it might help to give this thread a "bump" so it's not so buried. I edited its contents earlier so it's all fresh. If bumping is bad protocol then I apologize.

Invisible Touch

Tainted love

True north

Go north

Go Bots

Character's Name: Marcus Miller Character's Age: 34 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Height: 6'0" Weight: 205 lbs. Current Job Occupation: Former detective turned Private/Paranormal Investigator ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━ PERSONALITY ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━ General Traits: Seemingly a bit of a goofball with a weakness for whiskey and women, Marcus is one that keeps his cards close to his chest and would rather no one know what's really happening inside his mind. Of course, he certainly does love to laugh, and he does love the company of women, and is perhaps a bit too thirsty for the hard booze, but beneath the laid back, smiling demeanor is a man that always took his investigations seriously. Of course, those investigations are part of why he needs that facade of a smiling man. Good Traits: Polite, tries to share the spotlight with anyone around him, insightful, intelligent, in shape, a good sense of humor, a firm sense of good and justice Bad Traits: Keeps his true thoughts to himself, never lets anyone get too close, a borderline alcoholic, sometimes a bit too obsessive about chasing justice Likes: Sensual women, Knob Creek, classic rock and jazz, comfortable chairs, sultry songs Dislikes: Murderers, rapists, sadists, and the depths of depravity he's witness his fellow man come to. Teases, gold diggers, people with an easy life crying about how hard their minor inconveniences are Hobbies: Ice skating and roller blading, watching football and hockey, urban exploration, sex (well, he considers it a hobby) ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━ SEXUALITY ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━ Preferred Role: Switch if Not Applicable is not permitted Preferred Position: Switch Favorite Position: Cowgirl, doggy-style, missionary with her legs over his shoulders or folded back TOP 5 Favored Kinks: Exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming on breasts, voyeurism, multiple partners TOP 5 Limits: Pain, sadism, toilet play, chains/leashes on piercings, full-bore male submission ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━ BACKSTORY ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━ Marcus had quite the successful career as a detective, though he was always careful to avoid the limelight. He wasn't much a fan of people knowing who he was or what he worked on. There were practical reasons, of course, such as criminals on the street not always knowing your face on sight. However, he also wanted to keep himself grounded. It wasn't about him, it was about justice for the families that lost loved ones. Unfortunately, this path caused him to see the dark, terrible side of humanity, and that prevented him from being able to trust anyone else. Yet such loneliness inevitably led to his desire for women. Strip-joints, hookers, escorts, or simply flashing his badge at a pretty little thing at the bar interested in an older guy in uniform, anything that got him the distraction of pleasure and the warmth of the feminine embrace. One day, however, one case, things seemed... off. Nothing so Hollywood as finding fang marks in the neck of some blonde in an alleyway. No, this was a bit more like Pickman's Model, the Lovecraftian short story of witnessing something unsettling, unnerving in the darkness that no one else saw. In fact, he wasn't sure he believed it himself, but he began to notice more and more signs and indications. He took an extended leave from his job, but that extended leave has lasted months now as he's sought answers. What was he seeing? Was it evil? Was it hostile? While it may not have been his target, it led him, one day, to a club. One smack dab in the city he worked in for years, in alleyways and past streets he'd been walking day in and day out. How had he not seen it before? How had he not noticed it? Tonight was the night he entered, curious to see if he simply hadn't looked at it until now, or if maybe, perhaps, there was something strange afoot... ━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━__________________________________________________________________________________━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━

Hello everyone, just dropping a greetings that I've joined. I'll be looking around a bit more before creating a character to see what might be most suitable.

A Promise of Power There was something oddly soothing about the rain falling upon her face. She hadn't realized how hot the flames had been, nor was she aware of the soot now washing from her face as she slumped back against the rocky crag behind her. She was one of the lucky few that had managed to flee, though even flight gave no guarantee of survival. She had run towards the river, cresting over the drop down to water. To those unfamiliar it looked like anyone that slipped over the grassy ledge would plunge into the rapidly running waters, carried away and perhaps even submerged into a cold death, but she knew just where to descend. A small patch of sand that she could sit upon, pressing into the stone wall, hidden from view of any that would seek to find her. Aside from her fiery red-hair, darkened and dirtied by ash and mud, she was of rather plain attribute. A bit lanky of build without child-bearing hips, small breasts that no bodice could enhance, the only other attribute capable of charming another were her bright green eyes. She had buried her jealousy of the other women of the village, many of them having already played "milk maid" with the young farmers before even being matched for marriage, while she remained alone. Cursed to friendship, impossible to be made a match. Yet when the bandits rode in it was those curvaceous women that were first target. It's what allowed her to escape. She closed her eyes, tears blending in with the falling rain, her heart contorted in pain as she monstrously felt a hint of glee that those women would suffer for the beauty they took for granted. Come to me... Eyes flashed open, ears twitching, jaw set. Slowly, her head tilted, shifted, looked around. Above she saw no one, no torchlight against darkened clouds and the pouring rain. All sound was drowned by the running river. Even if there were any bandits above chattering away, it was unlikely she'd be able to hear them. Come to me, Anessa... She stood up. She didn't intend to. It was an impulse, the same fright-filled instinct that had her flee the destruction of her village. The voice knew her name, and it was unfamiliar. Yet there was something soothing. It was masculine, firm, commanding, but also not demanding. It promised safety, protection. Come to me, Anessa... She turned to her left. Though the voice had no concrete origin, seeming to come from within rather than without, she could tell that it was beckoning her from downstream. There wasn't much room, so she clung back against the rock wall, sliding against it, her bare and aching feet stepping along the damp sand on the edge of the river. She avoided stepping on rocks as best as she could, careful not to slip or she might crack her head upon the stony wall behind, or slip into the river and be lost forever. The voice would occasionally call, almost like a parent encouraging their baby taking their first steps. Soon time began to slip away, her mind focused purely on this task, shutting out the trauma she had fled, ignoring the horrific fates of friends and rivals and family, even the knowledge that she had no more home to go to. She even ignored every aching muscle and objecting bone, stepping onward and onward as she sought out the source of that voice. So long had she traveled that the sun had clearly set below the gray clouds, her vision obscured, seeing almost nothing. Her hand outstretched, she froze, nearly jumped, as her hand slipped from rock and over the lip of a cavern. She kept still, comfortable with her journey of just sliding along the rocky wall with the river. Now there was change. Something new. Something unknown. She was growing tired of the unknown. She simply sought comfort. Come hither, Anessa, and find me in here... Shivering, only now beginning to feel the biting cold of the rain and falling night, she slowly peered around the corner and into the cave. She could faintly see a glimmer within, almost like the light of a fire. Not the same, harsh, all consuming fire that had lit her home and village fields up, however. No, this was the comfort of a camp fire, promising warmth and safety from the terrors of the cold night. Sick of hesitation she kept to the wall, but stepped gingerly around the cavern entrance and inside. Immediately she felt relief from the pelting droplets that had been descending on her since shortly after she'd taken flight, and the cold sting of the passing river was now gone, replaced by the musty stillness of the cavern's stagnant air. Her glimmering green eyes latched onto that flicker, however, and hypnotically stepped forward. Slowly her feet padded at first, but the more she looked upon it the more she hurried. It was almost as if her exhaustion was melting away, her slow walk becoming a jog, only to then become a full bore sprint. Suddenly the glimmer became a burst of light, her arms lifting up to shield her eyes from its blinding brilliance. Yet the light was warm, truly warm, and it lit up the alcove like noon day sun. As she adjusted to the new conditions, her arms lowered, revealing a gorgeous looking bracelet upon an alter. Why would something like this be outside of her village? How had it remained hidden for so long? And how- Time, child. Time has passed since I had been placed here. A temple collapsed and destroyed only for a humble hamlet to be built upon its acres of land. Elements collapsing the entrance to my alter only for river and rain to finally sweep the blocking dirt and debris away. Now, in this space long forgotten, you have come. You have come, for you were called. "I don't..." Anessa began, but she could speak no further. Her throat had become raw and dry from thirst and she never realized it. Speaking was difficult, and her voice came out a rasp. You are strong, Anessa. Stronger than you know, yet the world has left you beaten and feeling weak. Take me! Take me, and wear me upon your wrist, and gain all that you had desired. There was no hesitation. Anessa didn't know if she believed what this thing said of inner strength, and somewhere in her mind was a rational woman crying out not to trust strange pieces of metal speaking into your head. Yet right now, in this moment, she'd believe anything that promised not just survival, but true strength and power. So she clasped the golden bracelet over her wrist. It was immediate. She felt herself nearly flung back, arms and legs outstretched. She cried, her whole body suddenly in pain. Her clothes tore to shreds, only to be replaced by leather, chainmail, and steel. That lanky body suddenly grew with muscle, but also developed a curvaceous form. Her back arched in a more serpentine fashion, she grew those child bearing hips she once lacked, her posterior now barely able to remain concealed by skimpy leather pants clinging to the shape of her cheeks. Her bosom developed, unable to be restrained by the leather cups lifting them up and together, guarded by a steel breastplate conforming ridiculously to the shape of her enlarged breasts. All of the change caused her to scream loudly, echoing through the walls as her body ached, stung, and groaned in agony, until finally it stopped. She dropped onto one knee, panting heavily, hand pressed to the dirt beneath her. When she finally stood, however, it was accompanied not by pain or exhaustion. No, she felt invigorated. Energized. She looked down upon herself, and while she felt more exposed than ever, she also, for the first time, loved what she saw. She didn't even need a mirror. She felt strong, sexy, powerful. The alter before her began to rumble, quaking, her eyes lifting to observe as it split apart. Each segmented fragment descended, revealing a slim longsword plunged into the ground, hidden and concealed. Her lips curved into a smirk. "Time for some revenge," she said, her voice seasoned with sultriness. Her fingers clasped the sword. It was time to slaughter some bandits.

An android in the style of a kitsune or nekomimi would actually make a lot of sense as well. Regardless, I appreciate the thought you put into the setting itself. I've yet to play Va-1-hall-a or however the letters are arranged, but I think I recall seeing something about a talking dog in it. Game's on my "to play" list.

Apologies, everyone. I've learned to be cold-hearted in certain circumstances. I've been a part of and have run too many games that end up having problem players, even if they seem well-meaning at first. I run ensemble stories, which means there's no room for anyone to hog the spotlight. If I see someone that sets off the red flags that they'll try to be the latter, well... I will respond in kind. Nonetheless, I'm always willing to be proven wrong. It seems Mega chose not to or found himself incapable of proving me wrong. Now then. This is something where I'm willing to let there be some semblance of creative freedom. So, while Chiyako's character got her nekomimi traits from genetic experiments, any others could be from commercially-available cybernetic implants, or the genetic experiments that gave her character her traits are now widely available as body modification on the market (so, effectively, her character was the test run before it got approved for widespread use in the past few years). In terms of more furry characters, as I mentioned with scales, certain traits can be present such as fur along the back of the neck, down the spine of the back and shoulders, or along the arm, but still retain that human appearance. Granted, I'm not a furry so I may be missing other traits that carry the appeal of such a character, such as the form the genitals take or something else. I suppose it depends on what you want to do. You can always PM me if you're curious about certain specifics.

And to what extent is a character with a tail and wings not going to be disruptive to the actual purpose of this setting? What need does a character have for dimension-hopping in a setting whose whole hook is simple and yet direct? I have attempted to allow certain freedoms for a variety of physical character types, but the real draw is a very specific sort of experience. You already made a bad impression on me in another club when you literally told me how my character thinks about your character in a post. That's a red flag. Now you're arguing that the very same character should be able to exist in a completely different setting regardless of the purpose of that setting. The red flag you're now flying is that you cannot actually write compelling characters, but are only able to write one over-powered munchkin character for the sake of self-insert power fantasy. And sure, a setting such as this is intended for some degree of self-insert fantasy given its nature, but that doesn't mean you can't write a unique character with their own background, motivation, and goals directly tied to that setting. I recognize I have limited tastes in certain things, but asking someone not to bring some dimension-tearing dragon god into a setting or scenario where these concepts serve no purpose and have no place is not unreasonable. If you find them to be so, then please leave. I want more players, but I'm not that desperate.

It's breaking the nature of the theme and allows further potential breakage of it. You can have a character that would maybe have genetic modifications so they have some scales on their body, like the back of their neck and temples and such, but nothing too crazy. It's sci-fi, not fantasy, so I'd say work on a new original character with the setting in mind.

Hrm. Well, I don't really have any reasonable reason to veto it completely, just my perspective listed earlier, so if you want it in there you can keep it in. I guess part of the problem is I'm trying to visualize it and struggling to do so, so maybe seeing it in action will help. I am, too! I am starting to wonder if there's a way to try and recruit more folks in without being annoying, though. Guess I'll just have to hope more people notice that it's not so quiet and stuff is happening?