Discord is my preferred platform for OOC chatter with comfort taking the writing just about anywhere. A content warning ahead of time for stories about characters fighting against fascism, for fascist-like governments, main characters of dubious morality, explicitly evil main characters who are not intended to be redeemed even if they have positive character traits, genocide, slavery, occultism, horror elements, and a long list of other adult content material. It is never my intent to make these appear as being justifiable or things that should be accepted on any basis.
I apologize ahead of time for any regurgitated information between prompts. There will be a great deal of redundancy.
A consistent theme of my prompts is that an intimate knowledge of setting lore is considered nonessential and often as much an obstacle as it is a benefit when taken to the extreme of viewing source material as sacrosanct. If someone is reading this and is worried about potential gaps in their knowledge, that isn't a worry for myself.
Our main character(s) encountering obstacles in life beyond them and meeting pitiable failure is to be expected and not shied away from in spite of my preference for stories about good ultimately overcoming evil - on that note, especially when it comes to ASOIAF and WH40K, glorification and sensationalizeation of violence doesn't interest me. Any attempts to educate me on how GRRM's eighth-grade understanding of violence and the status of women in the Middle Ages will be ignored.
Anywho. Onward.
Glory to Kyros.
... FOR OVER FOUR-HUNDRED YEARS, THE ARMIES OF KYROS THE OVERLORD HAVE SWEPT ACROSS THE KNOWN WORLD.
ALL WHO STOOD AGAINST THEM FELL BEFORE THEIR MIGHT.
Howdy.
I'm looking for someone interested in a creative reimagination of Obsidian Entertainment's Tyranny RPG and/or a similar enough story whether it be original or otherwise. More than anything else I'm looking for a story that focuses on themes of the unyielding advance of uncivilized civilization, police states in nonmodern time periods, and the interplay between different communities of people beneath the purview of a distant, faraway imperial metropole managed through a 'warrior-scholar.'
Uncivilized civilization refers to any number of horrifying and abominable empires throughout history that have put on airs of dignified culture and society bringing the light of enlightenment whilst only truly bringing death and foreign chains. Erosion of cultural norms, language, religious worship, genocide, etc.
Police states refer to Octavian (Augustus) levels of surveillance and violence against dissidence, secret police, civic services such as policing and firefighters being a masquerade for militarized security forces to put down unrest.
Community interplay and our warrior-scholar refer to the diverse peoples who inhabit the Tiers, their respective beliefs, histories, and respective personalities, and how they react to the presence of our main character, the Fatebinder, how they would use this powerful individual to try and survive or become powerlenders in their own right whilst also being used to advance the will of Kyros and her Empire.
I'd like to explore the 'boring' aspects of building an empire and what makes them interesting - managing the interests of different 'tribes' of people whether they be urban professionals, laborers in the fields, decentralized peoples considered barbarians even by other natives; maybe even things like finances and trade if my GM is into that.
Lore adherence is not virtue I hold strongly. I value narration more than anything else. My currently running idea for our main character is that they are a former slave given freedom so that they might serve as a Fatebinder due to their cleverness being wasted in a tin mine. I expect them to initially be a sycophantic bootlicker at the start of our story, someone with a great deal to learn about the world around them; not stupid, only inexperienced but eager to do their job well and to learn.
Heaven Is That Way. (Oathbreakers; long-term heroic Dark Fantasy.)
"You will burn away faster than most."
Their Master had not quibbled words with them when they asked to follow in his path, one moment they were carving wood together into masks to keep themselves busy on a long night, each of them taking turns spotting animals in the woods and cutting their faces into wood, and the next they found the courage to ask him to teach them how to be like they were. They didn't even remember the words that left their mouth, only the soft urgency behind them and the way their throat held tight afterwards, Master's eyes not even so much as lifting from their mask in the long seconds that pass before they answer.
"Burn," he repeated, stopping his cutting, though whether it was because they were satisfied with their creation or so that they could lift their gaze and watch them with sad pride they knew not. "It will be painful. And lonely. There is always someone in the world that needs you, and you can't be there. It is Hell, of a sorts."
Master spoke of Hell often, and his place in it, though they could never understand why. By their own witnessing he had saved dozens of men and women without expectation of anything in return, though thanks were plentiful; always words, but often whatever valuables they could spare, food, lodging. A bed he would accept, food on occasion, but never coin. 'It is poison' he warned them once. 'Gold and silver. Accept it even once, and all compassion flees you. It is the Great Destroyer. Do not shame me by considering accepting it. I would prefer you a craven or a murderer.'
They didn't think that was true, but they did believe Master believed in Hell.
'Heaven Is That Way'
It was scrawled across the old man's shield as the last remains of their old life, whatever it had been, and it was that shield he used as his place of prayer come morning each day whether they be held up in some haunted fortress, moat, rank cave, battlefield, or a stable.
"I want to be like you," they said, this time remembering the words, and putting every bit of stubbornness they could muster. "I want to help people."
Reaching for an old crone's eye that hung off their neck, Master put the mask up to their face, watching them through the holes they'd cut, and it's only now that they hear the fox that'd been watching them leap into the woods, its face now staring at them from across the fire betwixt them, its face twisted with curiosity.
"Very well," he says, voice muffled.
Blinking, they swallow, trying hard not to appear too pleased. Master would be happy to see them excited, but only when it was tempered, and never -
"But first-" Master tossed the mask behind him, already bored by it, and lifted the eye off his neck. It'd been there for ten years, a sort of mucus or... honey perhaps, lathered over it to preserve its condition. They saw fear in it, they thought, likely the last thing they felt as their master tore it out. The man holds it out towards them now, letting the fire lick its bottom.
"I need you to eat this."
...
Hiya.
I'm looking for a GM interested in a Dark Fantasy story surrounding the adventures of an Oathbreaker, raised into the station by their old mentor who adopted them early into their life, eventually agreeing to help them enter the ranks of his peerage.
In my imagination our MC is someone altruistic and willing to go to great, often disgusting lengths to protect the innocent and weak; forging weapons out of the organs of magical beasts, consuming foul potions, fighting magnificent but terror-inducing monstrosities - etc... and even going as far as to fight against institutional evils such as corrupt lawmen, tax collectors and lords, cruel landlords, so on.
There's little in the way of hard rules for me here. I'm mostly looking for a vibe, and especially looking to play a stable-minded hero of any gender taking the tools of their enemies and turning them against them; I'd be happy to see them butt heads against conventional authorities such as monastic orders and militias, cooperating when possible but coming into conflict inevitably.
Keywords include SPLATTERPUNK elements, violence, unusual but ultimately still good and honorable people, complex morality, politicking, clever thinking, and 'real' risks. I'm very comfortable seeing our main character struggle, fail, and face debilitating setbacks, injuries, and other forms of harm (that DO NOT include sexual assault.)
It's perfectly fine if this roleplay involves sensitive material such as slavery, inhuman treatment, state-mandated violence, and other crimes against goodness, so long as they are not fetishized and treated with the maturity and sensitivity they warrant.
And Who Are You? (ASOIAF; multiple timeline possibilities, both strict and heavily divergent canon adherency acceptable - recently fixated on a progressive, democratic Night's Watch in its glory days.)
When her heart first beats, it is nearly his last.
Before their heart began to beat, there was nothing but darkness and silence. It was not unpleasant, but rather a deep and dreamless sleep from which an eternity had sprawled in every direction, formless. Without shape he had drifted, without thought she had been. Perhaps he remembered something of fire, of existence and possibility. But these things became no more than dreams within eternity. Until he was born. And she drew breath.
No air fills their lungs. Instead, water as cold as ice floods his mouth, his throat, his lungs, devouring her breath and casting away the last vestiges of his slumber. What dust from sleep that had remained is now gone. Now, he’s drowning in existence. The noise of thundering water fills his ears, and the taste of salt saturates in his tongue. A dull, throbbing ache spreads from his lungs, a cold, numb horror which threatens to overwhelm her breath-starved body.
He doesn't know anything but the terror of drowning. But that doesn’t mean he is alone, born to die. Around them, the world indeed exists, though she knows nothing of it. His ignorance is nearly fatal. A worldly traveler would have known to swim to the moon, to the only light in a sea of darkness, but they do not.
All she does is drown.
...
Howdy.
I'm a ASOIAF superfan who likes getting a lot of milage from the universe whether it be something placed squarely on the modern timeline or if it be kicked all the way back to First Night with the text up above acting as an introduction to place a yet unnamed, genderless individual on any point in the universe my partner and I see fit.
There's a laundry list of ideas I've toyed with over the years, some disregarding the above text and others fully embracing it; examples of the latter being the story of an emancipated slave plucked out of the flaming wreck of a galley during the Ninepenny King War, or during the Greyjoy Uprising, brought back to Westeros as a freedman / freedwoman. Opposite to that would be a story taking place on the Dothraki Sea and exploring the perspective of a slave in service of an aging Khal and their attempts to both navigate the horrific cruelty of the world around them and the disregard for life whilst trying to make gradual, unacceptably slow reforms from within as their geriatric master grows closer to death by the day, putting their favored slave at risk. Something First Night related would also be entirely acceptable, a more grand and traditionally 'epic' journey about heroes fighting back an enroaching apocalypse acting as a thin allegory for climate change. I've recently started toying around with the idea of a Night's Watch-centric storyline of a Flea Bottom woman passing themselves off as a man volunteering for the Wall after committing murder during a time when the Watch was in one of its more glorious forms, the castles fully maintained and garrisoned.
My intentions with most ASOIAF-adjacent stories is to get into the pines and needles of what the setting is known for; interpersonal conflict and meaningful decision-making between characters with long-lasting effects that can only be felt far into the future. Ideally this would pull in elements of finances and warfare as the story escalates, but I understand if trade deficits and grain yields aren't up most people's alley.
Some notes for this RP is that although I love the books GRRM wrote, I find many grievances with the world he built up to and including a fetishization of violence and sexual assault that are not rooted in any form of reality as well as a neglect for nonstate power structures; democratic institutions of both aristocrats and peasants, guilds, corporations, etc. If my partner is sufficiently interested I'd really like to explore a world full of people other than royals and aristocrats with their own agency and pull. There's a lot of things I like about ASOIAF, but its representation of a living world with things going on behind the curtains is not one of them. This extends to topics like LGBTQ characters, social justice, emancipation, and NOBLEDARK storytelling with a focus on collaborating to make the world a better place and pulling away from 'Great People' mythology.
[Warhammer 40,000][Rogue Trader] THE EMPEROR MUST DIE!
This prompt is not beholden to Owlcat's CRPG nor to strong authenticity of canon lore. I view everything through whatever serves to tell a quality story as well as the Rule of Fun and Rule of Cool. It is my presumption that this story will follow the Rogue Trader (2023) plot to some extent, but I really don't care if somebody completely unfamiliar with the game reached out to do this prompt. Unless I tell you no, the answer is probably yes.
Although the content material down below is meant to both implicitly and explicitly disturbing and sad, the universe is a big place, and sometimes darkness can make moments of happiness even more beautiful and precious.
Content warning; genocide, trauma, indoctrination, potential references to topics of survivalism including non-fetishized cannibalism. While I can appreciate elements of GRIMDERPNESS, it is my intention to have us ground the universe of 40K in something resembling seriousness with actual discussions of philosophy and morality. People with wishy-washy, chud opinions need not apply.
A summary of the plot below to clarify any obfuscation - a survivor of Exterminatus is granted clemency thanks to her blood and given the chance to be brutally reeducated so that she can one day rejoin her 'true' family.
HOMEWORLD
Primitive World
Whether they be worlds that were outside the reach of the Great Crusade or lost to bureaucracy, the Imperium is not as great a monolith of mankind as it would care to admit. The inhabitants of some of these worlds will pray to a half-remembered human god with rituals that would be unrecognizable to any branch of dogma, while others never knew of the Emperor or his empire.
ORIGIN
THE LUCKY CASTAWAYS
The Time of Strife was not kind to sentient life no matter its species. Nonhuman empires thrived in the chaos, bringing ruin to lives that only sought peace - but more often than they reaped souls, they stole them, lifting them away as cargo on their ships so that they could perform the labor their masters hid from. One such ship belonged to your ancestors, but unlike many others, this ship crashed on a habitable world, and the survivors worked together to build a new home for one another and their children.
TRIUMPH
LOST TO THE WARP
You survived where all others perished in the bowels of a space hulk lost to the Warp after a terrorist destroyed himself and the Gellar Field.
DARKEST HOUR
XENOS LOVER
Although none speak the words, all know of your childhood spent amongst Xenos and their human slaves and lovers. It was only your blood and youth that saved you from the virus bombs that consumed the world you grew up on.
ARCHETYPE
SLEEPER AGENT
Do not believe the Emperor and His monster's lies. All sentient life carries within it the capacity to love and be loved. You were happy, once. Your people were happy. The Imperium and its dogs burnt away the only hope left in the galaxy, and all debts must be paid. You are a master of obfuscation, hiding your most deep of thoughts and most deep of needs whilst knowing the worst things about people with only a glance. Precious years of necessary education and training were denied to you that others take for granted, but you are uniquely suited to interact with nonhumans.
. . .
Emperor: The deity and secular ruler of Mankind, and the one who tore you from your family and then disintegrated them from orbit. He must die. He. Must. Die.
The Imperium of Man: A staggering amount of worlds whose singular unifying feature is their loyalty to the Emperor on Terra. Any attempt to imagine the number of worlds alone makes your head ache.
Xenos: The word for nonhuman lifeforms that proliferate the galaxy, branded onto them by the brainwashed fanatics of the Imperium.
The Final Sovereign. (...The Last Sovereign RPG-inspired.)
Hey there.
If you aren't familiar with The Last Sovereign then you needn't worry as this is a story that's meant to be plagiarizing the notes of the game, not the setting itself. If, however, you'd enjoy 18+ content bundled inside a free 200+ hour long experience that's mostly a finances simulator, maybe go give it a look. It's comparable in my mind to any of the classic greats like Planescape: Torment and Knights of the Old Republic 2 or Elysium.
The premise of my prompt is straightforward and highly mutable. If you, my hypothetical partner, dislike anything that follows this but enjoy the broad strokes, then I encourage you to reach out regardless. If we can cut away the parts you don't vibe with and replace them with things that make us both happy or come up with a new prompt altogether... it'll all satisfy the itch on my brain anyways.
Ahem.
A creature known as the INCUBUS KING rises suddenly and rapidly in a fantasy setting (capped at the 15th century in technology; anything prior is aces, Bronze Age included) at the head of a horde of Orcs and Succubi, their tactics wild and uncoordinated but successful thanks to the sheer abruptness of their invasion, the personal might of the Incubus King, and the occasional curdles of talent that bubble to the surface. In time his armies are driven back by a united international effort, but not at great personal and spiritual cost to the defenders... and those left under the thumb of the Incubus King. Their lives are exaggeratedly terrible and cutthroat even by the standards of the time period of anyone subjected to state-mandated violence, the Incubus King barely resembling a petty warlord with a mustache that twirls so quickly it risks flying off his face.
Our main character is, in my imagination, one of many thousands of slaves who bulk under the arbitrary and horrific rule imposed upon them, politically radicalized and deciding that death is the superior option to a second longer spent toiling away. A slave revolt is launched during a gala, government officials are murdered and a measure of self-governance established, and everyone begins the attempts to make it a 'permanent' affair whilst pretending like they aren't all waiting to be slaughtered once a proper military response is launched; and it is. And they are, indeed, almost all killed.
Until the Fellowship arrives.
In the original game the 'CHOSEN ONE' is a punchline to a joke about the inherent comedy of leaving the fate of the world to one naive, inexperienced idiot, and in our version of events I'd like to turn 'the CHOSEN ONE' into 'the Fellowship,' a gang of would-be heroes attempting to dislodge the Incubus King and his servants with real, grassroot efforts. Wannabe John Browns essentially. They hear of the slave revolt that's going down and decide to intervene, assisting with the withdrawal of those involved to safety and recruiting the main character in the process into their ranks.
The RP begins roughly along this point in time; the Fellowship lacks the resources of kingdoms and empires to permanently wound the Incubus King's regime, and, unbeknowst to them, are in the process of walking into a trap that will see the main character taken aside and planted with a kernel of power that will, in time, sprout, and give them the power to challenge the Incubus King themselves. Using this power, they take the first steps of building up the political clout and momentum to defeat the Incubus King at least (and probably other petty tyrants in the process, making a better world for everyone.)
If it seems like I'm requesting a highly specific vision with no room for my partner's input... don't worry. Like I said, I don't care if we abandon the vast majority of what I said here.
My priorities are this.
Pre-modern setting.
Practical politics in a surreal fantasy setting, government management, surreal worlds with boring problems.
An 'underpowered adventurer becomes a significant political figure, facing significant hurdles, setbacks, and failures in the process.'
Good writing.
That's it. I won't be unhappy of course if we stick largely to The Last Sovereign's broadstrokes, but if we don't, there won't be any complaints from me, and I actually look forward to seeing changes to my ideas that make it stronger.
Hell Hath Risen Again. (Original fantasy, political thriller.)
CONSIDER THIS.
A PEBBLE THROWN TODAY IS A MOUNTAINSLIDE COME THE MORNING.
- ORDER AND PROGRESS, 19:17.
It's one of those 'The end after the end' type of stories, one where the BigBadEvilGuy is defeated and cast back into the abyss only to return decades later - but this time she's been invited, the door to Hell opened once again by those that had defeated her.
While this prompt is highly mutable and I encourage my partners to lean in with their own creative preferences and while I appreciate the ultimate decision-making that comes with sitting in the GM chair; the intact vision in my head goes as such.
A world populated by a myriad of fantastical races and cultures is put to siege by armies from Hell; a place known for matter-of-fact to exist and to contain within it not only demons but many nation-states, now united by an especially talented stateswoman by the name of Ilya who had signaled peace and cooperation . . . until her armies were stepping foot into the realm of mortals.
It does not go well for mortakind, and although both sides suffer from incompetency and failures, even the arrival of a Fellowship of heroines is not enough to stop what seems to be inevitable defeat.
And then 'something' happens.
I've gone back and forth on what it is exactly, but I've mostly leaned towards some form of treachery on behalf of the Fellowship. A feigned surrender where their true intentions were to weave a spell that would cast Ilya into the nonexistence.
In this version of events Ilya was indeed usurped, but that did not in fact spell the defeat of the empire she had built.
Not so easily toppled and dysfunctional without her, although the war was stalled, demonkind was still scandalized by the betrayal and made multiple attempts at political reform in light of their leader's disappearance, to realign themselves in a new order that would let them continue the fight - and they failed. Mostly. It's only decades after the fact when loyalists assemble to bring Ilya back to the world in an attempt to end the decades of warring and unrest that have strangled the world. I'm aiming for this to be an underdog story.
Without getting too lost in the sauce here the bottomline is that Ilya is brought back at the behest of the world that had rejected her, summoned by mortal loyalists decades after her defeat at a time when the wars had never truly ended, when the breadbaskets of the world still burned and armies and bandits plagued the roads as new kingdoms and empires and republics have tried to reassert themselves into the vacuum that was made. Essentially, the world is a mess, and some of her fanboys and fangirls decided they'd do a Hail Mary and bring her back in hopes of fixing things.
This RP is meant to be a lot of statecraft, finances, army leadership and responsibilities, bill-making; a slowburn in short. Really slow with lots of interpersonal conflict and cooperation, very personality-driven content where one person is never responsible for 'building' a nation.
I don't have a post frequency expectation. I expect this RP to be slow-going no matter what. I've got writing samples and would appreciate my partners having the same.
Dragon Age: Like Dogs.
"Very well. Maybe your friend here will be more reasonable."
Sylvan sees the way he has to force himself to look at her. Enough of his friends' blood is covering her to fill a tub, and the small, wistful smile on her face makes him regret his choice of word instantly.
"You owe these people nothing. I tried to negotiate - you saw it! You'll have a full guarantee of safety within the walls, I promise you. Surely you must know how valuable that is to an apostate. No templars. No guards. I will instruct them to always look the other way."
"Truly?" Sylvan asks, voice soft.
Encouraged, he nods, taking a step forward to enunciate his words.
"You've my word."
She hums in thought, letting him enjoy the little bits of hope he has left, rolling her eyes up towards the ceiling.
"Unfortunately my Lord," she sighs sadly, bringing him back into focus. "I think I'd much rather drink your blood."
His face shakes with rage. And fear.
"Kill these freaks!"
--=--
The man she'd stormed the castle with wasn't moving - still standing, only frozen to his spot in the loft they'd just slaughtered the Arl's child in, staring at the flayed corpse that would greet his father come morning as patrols exchanged duties. When Sylvan came closer to him she could hear his voice slip through the iron clap his lips were formed into.
'we had to do it'
'we didn't have a choice'
'we had to help
'they were going to hurt them'
'we had to do it'
Her focus wasn't on him though. The pretty redhead she'd met the night before was sat down in the floor, breathing hard, doing her best to retake control of herself without falling into the Hell of dried husks of corpses that surrounded her. It's hard for Sylvan not to stare at the way rivulets of blood had begin forming around the other elf, sinking in through the stone around her until a pool had begun to form.
Shianni does her best not to notice it, but Sylvan can't help it, heart fluttering at the sight.
"You killed them?" Shianni asks, breaking her gaze away from her near-rapist's corpse to take in the apostate that had helped her, refusing to let the sight of them frighten her. "They're dead?"
Voice piqued with happy pride, Sylvan nods, kneeling down beside them and reaching out to push a strand of that ginger hair back into place. "Like dogs."
"Good."
...
Origins retelling without any expectation of strong canon coherency. I'm welcoming to both experiences of the original story told via narration or a great many additions, headcanons, retcons, etc - it is my intention to have the story roughly follow the events of a City Elf from an outsider's perspective, starting roughly upon their arrival.
Our MC is an political radical fleeing slavery in Tevinter who has, for reasons of her own, found her way in to Ferelden to fight for Elven rights and liberation before being dragged into the events of the original game.