you are shitoko, an obese mexican loser. you have put off your revenge on society for a long time, but with ICE closing in, you need to figure out something quick. you are banned from owning a gun, you don't have a driver's license, and you are too fucking fat and slow to carry out a mass stabbing. luckily for you, your farts are so fucking disgusting that they can knock out and even kill gringos. with that realization, you now have a concept of a plan, which is a good start. now you need to figure out the rest. >search for an enclosed space with lots of people >search for food that causes massive and horrendously malodorous flatulence >get a fucking job so that you have more money >read books to increase your IQ and plan better in the future >solve some puzzles to increase your IQ and plan better in the future >write in
You are a CANONICALLY HOMOSEXUAL wizard man. You have an EPIC STAFF and also a WITCH'S BROOMSTICK which feels PRETTY REDUNDANT you think. You were thinking of hitting up a REDBOX to pick up a straight-to-dvd BROOMSPELL which is something like a MOVIE (your broom doubles as a DVD player)
Long have you wanted to be reincarnated into another world, obtaining some cheat skill and getting a harem of beautiful women to pamper and get pampered by you.
After getting hit by a truck you got all that you wished for and more! Sort of. Well, after you discovered how <span class="mu-i">good</span> intimacy felt, mostly thanks to a certain goddess you brought down with you from heaven, you couldn't help but want more of it!
So you've decided to make the best life you could have in this cliched, steampunk world you now call your home...
Your name is John Doe, and you're just about ready to get married to a literal Goddess.
Good sirs and noble ladies, I know, I know, I should have been here in october but I am late like Charles de Valois when repaying his debts ! Such is life I would say, life is full of trials, more work, writer's block, a broken computer, heh, God puts trials on our way so we can overcome them in the most chivalric way. So ride on, let us go back on saddle and ride with Charles de Villeroi, our gallant hero, who has just left the capital to go to Tradnod, to give the duchess of these lands the locket that she has lost and that he has found after vanquishing awful men made of wood and other foul witchcraft. For those who are new in our crowd, worry not, for I have here all the links to the previous scrolls detailing the adventures of Lord Charles de Villeroi.
Welcome back to Our Brave Boys, a quest that is more about worldbuilding (or loredumping) but also a somewhat light RP setting. You are all young men of 20 years of age and are part of the Nation's Apprenticeship Required for Male Youths, otherwise known as ARMY. The Nation is one of many countries of the Empire, but after decades of suppressing Republican Revolutions, the Nation emerged as the leading faction championing the Monarchy, placing the late Princess of your Nation on the throne as Eternal Empress.
The quest essentially runs as a world event where you are all common soldiers who have little control over the progression of the war, but are nonetheless free to write bits of your characters' thoughts and even subtle actions to bring life to your characters.
The Nation has a mandatory conscription policy for all young men, who must serve for 5 years after conscription at 20 years of age. Nearly a year and a half has passed since the quest started, although new boys are welcome. You might want to skim through the archive to understand the lore.
<span class="mu-s">Summary</span> You are the junior brothers of Lexion XXI, 41st Artillery Cohort, Battery Green, Section 1.
The Empire has been ever watchful over Republican Revolutions in neighboring states. When the Southern Principality erupted into revolution, Legion XXI was commanded to establish a foothold to prepare the rest of the Imperial Army to land for invasion. You and your brothers had successfully assault and captured a small port town just outside the Ancient Capital, holding it for a few weeks. Just then, the rest of the Imperial Army arrived...
Welcome to the Kingdom of Pangria, the only home you've ever known. Ruled by our mighty King Elion we have long since snuffed out the mysterious dark forces that once plagued our lands. It's been sometime since a monster sighting has occurred, but the darkness that once was has not been forgotten. The Queen passed shortly after the great battle and for years now King Elios has remained a recluse.
-?- If you want to roll a character ----choose an animal -------choose a class ====== I will decide the rest====== -?-If I like your character -- You will receive art and the character will have a role to play in Pangria. -?-If you don't receive art -----there may already be an animal of that species in use in the story already. ---I will decide the protagonist, once a protagonist is chosen we can continue.
Today is October 12th, 2024. You are a normal person, living a normal life, remaining completely unremarkable among over 8 billion others just like you. Today, you are going to manifest psychic powers, and your life will very rapidly cease to be normal. Who are you?
> Jacob Porter, male, 25 years old. Works 2-3 shitty wagecuck jobs, splits rent with a tolerable roommate, almost exclusively engages with political media, thinks world is doomed.
> Rebecca Sims, female, 28 years old. Homeless, addicted to heroin, probably some sort of undiagnosed mental illness. Got fired from her acting job after years of mounting stress and misery, lost her apartment, got disowned, and was never able to pick herself back up.
> Casey Russo, nonbinary, 20. Junior in undergrad for computer science, participates in three clubs, in a sorority, has a part-time job and an internship with the campus. Uses amphetamines, sleep deprived, going to crash and burn.
> Pete Pruitt, male, 36. Lives with his parents, works a shitty wagecuck job, entire life consists of helping his elderly parents, working, watching escapist slop, playing vidya, or gooning. Definitely has some sort of depression.
> Thomas Duarte, male, 52. Lives alone, survives off social security and renting out some property he inherited. Alcoholic, stopped trying to quit over a decade ago, children and ex-wife hate or avoid him. Has pancreatic cancer that will kill him in ~8 months.
> Robert Writt, "male," 31 years old. Uses /lgbt/ and /pol/ consistently, chud, closeted trans woman, hates himself, moderately suicidal, keeps to himself, has a decent job and splits rent with two roommates.
> Gabriela Cabrera, female, 24. Always loved reading and writing stories, and was pressured into college. Has no long-term life plans, a knee-deep pile of debt, and a few months until she has a degree in literature. Deeply avoidant person, only thing keeping her sane is her girlfriend and some high school friends.
> Kurt Ortega, male, 18. Lifelong interest in sports, good enough to get scholarships. Plans on going to a trade school, partying with buddies, getting certification, and maybe locking down his hot high school sweetheart. Vaguely woke in a sort of uninvested way, has a growing issue with alcohol and speed, and his girlfriend is slowly realizing she's trans.
The world has another side, one with secret societies and hidden powers vying for control. But it is not merely humans, nay. For millennia, creatures which a modern man considers fables have been battling in the shadows, both within their own, and others. Only the Magical Girls can slay the demons of humanity's suffering, and clean up the supernatural messes along the way!
Following next, a magical girl begins her first training session.
- - - - -
On the last Episode, our Heroine, Magical girl SugarRush, has gotten her first introduction to magical girl society. Witnessing the dark land of the Shadow Market where she met an eccentric ‘apprentice’ E, and a non-combatant Sister of the Magical Girls, the troubled Angel. Now, she has arrived on the beach to train with her Magical Girl teammate, Jacky.
- - - - -
You shake off your troubles, compartmentalization always works, thought it feels like the more you lock away, the quicker you reach your limit. But this is important, you’re here to train with Jacky. She doesn’t seem like the sort to make it too harsh anyway.
So you nod at the short girl. Much like you, clad in bikini and flip-flops, though carrying a small purse. “Lead the way.”
Jacky widens her grin. “Attagirl!”
As you walk on the sand, you feel the gazes taking you in. You stare ahead, while Jacky waves. “I didn’t know when you were arriving, so I’ve been chatting for a while. There have increased drownings, it’s not part of our territory but it’s good to know, both for our own girls, and for the rest.”
You arrive at what might be generously called a bar, but it’s closer to a plastic shack in the middle of a beach, which just happens to have some booze on sale. A surfer dude is manning the counter, eagerly greeting your companion. “Welcome back babe! This the friend you mentioned?” He bears a grin as he scans you, one that falters when his eyes eventually reach your face. You have been told in the past that you have a resting bitch face, though you think you’re just honest with your emotions. “Y’ alright, dudette?” His question seems to carry a hint of genuine worry, but before you can answer, and probably tell him to fuck off, Jacky is already smoothing the situation. “She had a real rough few days. That’s why she’s here, the sun’s out, the water’s great, and some drinks will make that even better.”
The explanation calms him, grin returning and head bobbing with nods. “Yeah, the waves ‘ve been great.” He turns, opening a cooler and taking out four bottles, two of some tripe named cocktail drink, and two of watermelon vodka. “Can I count on you for the Luau?”
Jacky seems almost too smug. “Oh I wouldn't miss it.” She takes the bottles and turns, doing a slight flourish with her hips.
You remember primary school: running past metal doors and out into the recess playground, the teachers would always say "don't play rough." But inevitably someone would cross the line, and pushes and kicks and punches would be thrown over a crude joke or a prank, or for any one of a million stupid reasons.
You were never one of the offenders. But you do remember a close friends being a frequent troublemaker and an almost semi-permanent fixture inside the principal's office; on returning he would parody the principal's lecture in a faux serious voice—”propriety this, behavior that,” and other such things that kids liked to make fun of.
But at the end of whatever day he'd decided to make trouble, you would always spot him sitting on a chair inside a bereft classroom, looking downcast. Then you'd see his mother and the homeroom teacher deep in conversation, walking down the hallway and entering the room, closing the door behind them.
The following day he'd always return muted and solemn, and no roughhousing would occur for several days. You'd learn many years later that at dinner, when his father would ask "How was everyone's day," his mother would report on her son's mischief. Sometimes his father would wait until after dinner to bring out his belt. Other times, right there and then, he would administer his displeasure.
It befuddled you. Education at the point of the sword—a paradox if ever you saw one. But it wasn't something you ever personally experienced growing up, getting "disciplined" in that manner.
Your father…
>wasn’t around much >wasn't around at all >wasn’t prone to violence
