Zhavi

You also, in the course of arranging rp, need to come up with an idea of a direction for the rp to go in. IE, something that is driving your character in the moment, that is going on in the surroundings, that provides other characters with drive and reason to keep interacting with your character. Jobs, research, mystery, interpersonal issues, spying/information gathering, needing aid/advice/mentorship, being lost, etc. If it is aimless, random, or focused on awkward conversation, it's likely going to fail.

"A'right, but I'll not have it said I let ye in on me own willin'. Go on, then. Fetch th' jacks." She stood there, smiling, almost friendly, and waited.

Here's the ugly truth about getting into your rp groove: it's networking. 1) You have to be in the right place at the right time for walk-up rp. That means attending events, and either having your character directly interacting with others or manipulating your surroundings to enable rp (utilizing objects, npcs, or actions that directly interact with multiple characters or encourage direct interaction -- for example I've had zhi have a coughing fit while drinking that sprayed alcohol all over someone). 2) OOC communication. No, you don't have to, but it dramatically increases your chances. This means talking to people about their characters, about plots, about their rp. Do not talk about your rp unless asked or you're trying to figure out an opening scene/plot. Why? Because if you want to engage someone, you need to show them that you are interested in their character. Plus, people like to talk about their creations. It makes people feel good to know someone is interested. "Hey, your character's [trait, backstory, whatever -- the more specific the better] is [positive thing]. I'd really like to rp with you sometime, would you be open to that? I can give you information about my character if you're interested" "Hey that rp you did [specifics] was [positive thing]! I'd love to rp with you sometime if you're available!" Keep in mind there are a good chunk of people who do have a lot of rp on their plate or are busy and have to schedule their rp -- don't be discouraged if they don't have time or it doesn't work out. Look for: new people. Making connections. Recent updates in the wiki (pm the player on the rpc if you like their page) People who say they wish they had more rp FCs or LSs that fit your style NOTE: not every character meshes, not every player meshes. Don't take it personally if the rp fizzles. Try again. Eventually you'll find rp partners or a rp group. I've had plenty of rejections when I've looked for rp, but I've also found some phenomenal people and had some phenomenal rp. I have a three-shot rule with people I don't know, too. If we are trying to schedule rp and it doesn't work out, or I send them a message and they don't reply, I try two more times. After that, I move on to someone else. Best!

As with any social situation, you have to be willing to face rejection in order to get interaction. Similarly, you have to be willing to try multiple things. I don't know of anyone who just fell into rp and has never had any bad experiences... all the people with regular rp had to put themselves out there at some point. If you need some tips on how to reach out to others or make contacts for rp, ask. But, remember, it's up to you to act.

Zhavi stiffened. "If yer wantin' inspection, ye'll need th' owner. Else yer breakin' yer own laws. Fancy me fetchin' a jack?" Her smile was a sharp edge aimed outwards.

Zhi thought quickly. "Shop's closed. Was an accident. Shop boy stuck hisself wi' his master's shears. Now I'm cleanin' up. Owner ain't here. Come back t'morrow." She stayed in front of the now closed door to the back room, unmoving.

Everything went quiet. Zhi looked up, hair plastered to her face, eyes wide. The shop had been closed. They'd all left, the owner, the merchant, the witless investor and his stupid, stupid bodyguards, their contacts, the apprentice -- Her hand came up off the brush and slid over the hilt of the dagger at her hip. The apprentice. Everyone had left out the alley when she'd gotten there, everyone but the tailor's apprentice. He'd left out the front. He was supposed to have locked the rutting store. Except he hadn't. Of course. Of course. She got to her feet, knees all creaky stiff. She was splattered in blood, it was soaked into her pants and artfully daubed into her shirt. Hems of sleeves were crusted with it. There was a spare change of clothing, but . . . no. There wasn't any time. She came to the edge of the backroom, looking out, a dim halo of light around her as she grabbed the handle of the door and shut it behind her. She was left in the body of the shop, a silhouette. She was full of hollows and shadows, bones jutting out under her skin to leave gaunt wraiths in their wake, a story of bad decisions and worse secrets. Her eyes were set dark and deep, tired smudges beneath them and framed by dank, limp hair. Beneath the hair, she smelled of sweat. Not the clean sort of sweat, no. Hers was the last resort of a body congested with the worst sorts of excess. It smelled nasty, beneath the blood. Her skin was a study of blemishes: clogged pores, scabs, and old scars. There was a fine tremor to her hands, one on the hilt of a hidden blade and the other pointing towards the intruder -- the kind of tremor that could be expected from a junky needing her next score. "Shop's closed," the streetrunner said, voice gruff and harsh with too many years of drink and smoke. "Get out."

torment: tides of numenara why, because oh my god why did I back it with so much money you IDIOT ...also because PATRICK ROTHFUSS and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT and STORY and RPG GOODNESS my expectations are too high, it'll probably suck.

Appreciated, friend! There's nothing like them folk for me; the jackmen and the blackguards, the amusers and the cleave-hounds, fellows with murder writ along their hearts, the ambit of their spines. Bewraithed in sin and bordering on feral, ecstasy there! If you're looking for further street connections, feel free to snag me in game! I'm curious: who are your writing influences? It tastes familiar but I can't quite place it.

Two candles were all that lit the innards of the tiny old tailoring shop, casting dim, forgiving light. They were set in the back room, leaving the shop darkened to all but the sharpest of eyes. The sun was setting, though it was hard to tell beneath the covering of clouds; the sky was all of a single shade. It'd been promising rain for the past week, but for a few fitful spurts of drizzle here and there, there'd been nothing. Sailors and Limsa's denizens alike were getting nervous and antsy. Not a few tempers had worn thin as they waited for the storm to burst. The air smelled of electricity, emptied bowels and blood. Zhi looked out of the doorway of the backroom, squinting out into the half-light. The windows had steamed from the surplus of hot water some no-name girl-child belonging to the shop owner had hauled in, and she couldn't see out from her position. Her hands stilled in their task, and she waited, listening, only her ears moving as she searched for some errant sound. Nothing. She spat down into the mess at her knees, a tangled effluvia of death and soap tainting the air. There were worse smells in the city, she reminded herself as she dipped her scrubbing-brush into one of the buckets. There were worse tasks. Unthinking, she lifted her hand to the ear-clasp that pierced her inner ear, perched fat and bloody like some old tick. She picked at it. The silence stretched but for the dim hissing of bubbles popping in one of the buckets. The girl-child had returned twice, setting fresh buckets in the lee of the rear alley-exit. There had been a lot of blood. The bodies, rolled up in old canvas and stacked neatly on a bit of ruined carpet, were a good reminder of why it was necessary that this task be properly finished. She'd been beholden to bond-holders before. With a sigh and a few rolls of her shoulders, she bent back to the task, finding a rhythm in both movement and sound of the hard-bristled brush against the wood and soapy water. After this would come the sweet rushes and incense. It would not do for a lawful tailor shop to smell of such unpleasantness. Just like it wouldn't do for her to bear the weight of unpleasantness that would fall upon her for doing poorly at such a menial job. Zhavi Streetrunner was not especially known for being thorough, but when set to a task with the stick-carrot of pain and coin, she could fulfill and exceed expectations. Time passed in that quiet susurrus of sound and smell. Her guard relaxed.

Frankly, it's too much effort to try to figure out appropriate word usage, so I toss words up in a blender and come out with a horrendous mess of insults and gobbledygook that's probably made at least one person wince right out of my rp with them. I write what I feel works for each character's perspective, sometimes using words I use, sometimes using words I look up that probably shouldn't/don't work (scut, churl, rut). The end.

Yummy, yummy formatting. Have a bump; I can't stay away from that good ol' classic scoundrel.

Bells had passed without Brindle's feet touching ground, and he stumbled, cursing. When he'd steadied, he skipped back a few paces out of Styrm's immediate reach. He was wary of the roe. The dull ache of his beating was settling into a more active stiffness, followed by sharp spikes of pain. "If yer Galleon's get, ye'll not have it," he spat, too tired to curb his tongue in the face of his uncertainty. He was backing up, preparing to run.

Here is a hug and a shoulder pat, and quiet encouragement. You can make it.

Shit is wayyyyy too expensive for what it is. Cute tho.

the small chunks of time I have to play are precious to me why squenix why

... I might have told you before, but I've always admired your character from afar. I see her as a good badass, the kind that doesn't rest on her badassery (some are just like 'this character is badass' but that's really all they have), but is instead compounded of numerous well-put together character traits.

The amount of talent in this place, considering how large it is, blows me out of the fucking water. I mean, before here, I had assumed that 90% of all mmo rp was shitty and just something I would dabble in here or there once every couple of years for a change of pace. And yet, here I find myself spending as much time as on my main forum rp places. Not only that, but a good portion of users are kind, witty, delightfully wicked, intelligent, and/or perfectly honest -- which is something I've been hard pressed to find in most communities. I like the way the site is run. I like the way people rp. I even like the way people go about their rp when it's not the sort of rp I like, mostly because there's no pressure for me to interact with it. Instead, people just do their own shit, and the only time I've seen it become an issue is when people feel like they're being forced to interact with something they don't like. Even when people are being critical of others' rps, I've always had a sense of "live and let live," which is how I personally go about rp. So, naturally, I greatly appreciate it. I dunno, man. I've made it a point to not be too socially invested in ff rp (I generally don't pursue friendships from ooc connections I make here or in game), but I think the community here is the shit. Also, I do believe that the moderation team behaves in a professional manner despite not being paid to do their jobs. Yeah, yeah, favoritism or whatever, but seriously, you guys, you don't know how fricking bad it gets on some forums (or muds or whatever) like this if you think this is the worst it can get. It's awesome here. Room for improvement? Sure. But that's everywhere you go -- people aren't perfect; you strive for perfection, but you're never going to find it. Good job, everyone. Thanks for being wicked cool.

Your signature is one of the prettiest I've seen. Great ss. I caught myself sitting and staring at it in another thread!

It's funny that people are weirded out by neck elongation but are okay with.. Scales Horns Tails Furry ears No eyebrows Oh well. Proud elf guy, here. The difference for me is that even way way back in FFXI, the Elves just have odd proportions. The neck is big part of it. But it's more than that. Their arms are too long, but that might be because their legs are too long as well. Then comes their stances and animations. They are just... well, this is all subjective. It's all my opinion. But I always felt that the stances and animations for Elezen males, especially how they run, are just a little too dainty for me to play one. There is also something I dislike about the different faces they let you pick from. I'm not sure how to describe it exactly, but the only Elezen male in the entire game with a decent looking face is Aymeric. They looks so snooty and angry all the time, and that would be fine. There is just something I can't quite explain about their faces that I dislike. They have some awesome hair options though. And thankfully I can just make a highlander male and use most of the Elezen hair I like on him instead, unlike back in 1.0 when Highlanders only had 4 types of hair, and one of them was just bald. Their proportions hit an uncanny valley for me. The others are all so unrealistic that it don't matter, but the elezen proportions are just slightly off, so I do a double take all the time. Makes me uncomfortable. AND THEIR HEADS ARE TOO SMALL.

I think maybe you meant to be tongue-in-cheek or flippant, but due to the nature of FC recruitment on balmung it turned out the wrong way. If it was the opposite, where FCs were starving for players, then it's likely it would have been taken better. As is, coming from a 'I've done this and this and I'm looking for an interest check because I'm having a hard time finding a group and need exposure' then followed by the 'this is a challenge! how can I make this work!' schtick woulda worked better. First step to selling yourself is knowing your audience. You didn't know enough, but now you do. You can always stick the original post in a spoiler and start over!

Eventually, the night wore out even the stoutest hearts of tavernskeeps, and they closed their doors. The places left open -- Keepers' delights -- they'd already canvassed. The roe had amassed a collection of tidbits: information and advice both, some of it conflicting. Brindle'd collected the same things, snatching the information deep into the heart of his memory. As soon as he got loose from the big lout, he'd be free with it, and free to find Zhio. "Can ye let me off now?" His voice was whiny and tired, just the timbre that always made Zhi's ears go back. Because as soon as he was free, he had places to go. Places that might have Zhi in them. ____________________ The shop owner of the smoke shop was not unused to seeing a strange parade of customers come in through his door. Nor was he unused to a steady stream of wheedling, threats, and questions. He kept his own counsel, and his wits about him. He summoned one of his runners. "Yeah, Eohric?" The lalafel lass' voice was cool and unruffled, same as always. "Take a message to Litha. The stakes have changed. Triple pay, or the deal's off." The lass stared at him, eyebrows raised as she waited for him to collect his thoughts. "Tell her I ain't gettin' meself shived for lack o' information. Her goods got a trail o' n'er-do-wells on it, and it ain't worth gettin' me store torched. You tell her that." ___________ They was after a book. One what was more'n just words strung together. One that the bint would be tryin' to offload. One that the doublecrossed buyer would be lookin' to get back... and could use some help, like as not, from a local Limsan runner. One who had some idea where their crook-tailed thief ran off to, at that. That was how he ended up waitin' in a hall waiting to talk to Litha, behind some other runner, his ear pressed up to the door. The smoke seller was playin' with weighted dice, was he? Might be someone who could use that information. Then he heard the name. Goodfellow. By the time the runner came out of the office, Solitaire was gone. He had a lalafel to find.

I don't get why it's not okay to not like someone's rp or think it's bad. As long as you're not harassing them or spewing hatred about them to everyone you meet, what's the issue? Anyways, on topic. There was a really well made character I used to play with who was completely blank to people he didn't know, to the point that my character actually nicknamed him "The Wall." Social niceties or entry conversations wouldn't work to push our characters into interacting, so I invented scenes that would force interaction. Big things, and little things. One such little thing was that during a short interaction, I had a group of children run by. They went into an alley, and next thing you knew, there was the sound of kids laughing and a dog crying out in pain. It drew both of our characters out into that alley, and into a point of conflict: the kids had killed the bitch's puppies, and both of our characters had very different ideas about what should happen next. Some characters are shit with initial conversation -- but in my experience they respond to things happening around them. So, if conversation doesn't work, I try action. If I try action and nothing, then either the other player will try to make it work or I just let it go. Maybe our characters don't mesh, maybe our writing doesn't mesh, maybe we don't like how the other writes! No matter what, it's okay. Sometimes the rp don't work. You do what you can and move forward.

Nah, I don't cry during rp. The process of writing and developing plot and characters is cathartic for me, though.

No matter where I go, there will always be writers where I'm like "Oh my god they do that thing so well I want to steal it from them" and then I slink up to them and am like "let me write with you" and then I absorb their writing methods so that I can do the thing better. Those people are my writing crushes. True story.