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Topic Started: Dec 24 2008, 10:30 PM (136 Views)
WhiteSynthesis
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Name: Preferably, by my username, or Synthesis. Since, well, calling me white seems awkward, doesn't it?

Roleplaying Experience: Since August 2006, more or less.

Preferred Roleplay Style: Usually, I'm prone to fandom and role play rooms/forums revolving 'round pre-set universes from some sort of canon. (like, example; and Air Gear fan role play). Mostly because I, if a fan, would already know a bit from the universe and make a character accordingly. I don't mind anything else, or doing new things, but I usually like discussing the plot/story/setting beforehand and then free-write it from then on. I'm not much of a fan of fantasy, but I'm not much of a fan of sci-fi, but I adore some fantasy settings as well as healthy dose of cyberpunk. So yeah, I don't really have a preffered style, if anything. -- Though, I usually feel more comfortable in supernatural-esque role plays that push the borders of my characters concepts, making me forced int developing their growth.

Roleplaying Sample: [[For this post is taken from an rp I have with someone from deviantart, the setting was the other person's character singing in a bar; this was my response, and my sample post for this place]]


'Words were spilled from her lips like candle-wax over my skin. Her tongue was burning with a slow muse, I thought. She was fire, and I was helpless. Moving my finger in concert with her guitar's tempo, tapping my fingertips against the table in concert with her beat. And I whispered her lyrics too, underneath my breath, following her song as it escaped me. I reached out, tried to memorised the chords, tried to memorise her song... but I was lured into her like a pirate into a siren and I held her breath at the tip of my ear-lobe as it bounced off the cartilage and echoed into my ear, vibrated, and sound-waves were transfered into my head like-' --

As a furious poet scolding his own muses, one of 'the regulars', a girl named Liz, brushed her pen in strokes across her napkin in front of her. Un-revised free-writing manifested into three napkins, stretched-out and unfolded across the table. Light and cheap black ink (Bic, 99 cent pen) portrayed words as if they were strippers, selling them short of their worth, stripping them naked and bare across the paper stage. 'Liz' wrote, tried to write, about everything... but for once, she felt inspired, or seduced. She couldn't tell, she could only write. Dip and dab her pen into her own muses, into the depths of her abilities as a poet, and arrange verses carried with sorrow. She ran her hand across the napkins twice, pressing her fingertips down against the pen's tip, the tip against the napkin, the napkin against the table, and erased by censoring the last simile (or metaphor or however you call it ) with thick lines across it. Lips remained gape, eyebrows furrowed, and shoulders fell in symphony; three notes played the chord of a sorrowful sigh, she had given up. Liz arranged the napkins in order, one atop the other, pushed to the side, and went back to the beer and the song... letting them, both, drown her in their evanescent melodies. -Even when listening, she idly wrote;

'Bubbles roared underneath the fizz of the beer, but I heard her voice above it all'
Edited by WhiteSynthesis, Dec 24 2008, 10:31 PM.
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Silvermourn
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic

(Approved) Welcome to the site, and glad to have you with us. Feel free to post an intro and in the roleplays.
"I mourn that which may have been but will never be."

"Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp"

"An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity"

"Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit."

"You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it."

"Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty."
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