Atrevida wrote:
I started roleplaying back as a kid. "Roleplaying" for me, when I was probably 6 or 7, was just playing pretend at first. I met my (then) best friend in kindergarten, and we would get together almost every day. Sometimes, it was playing with stuffed animals, where all of them had names, personalities, histories, relationships...other times, it was us taking on those character types and stories. We would pretend we were horses (we loved Black Beauty, lol), or wolves, or lions (thank you, Lion King), and in the pool, we would pretend to be dolphins or whales, whatever. It was great. We would go at it for hours, outside or indoors -- we would go as far as even building "homes" and walking on all fours -- sometimes the plots we imagined were so dramatic and Shakespearean, lol. I really miss it, actually. It was so cool sharing that in person with somebody, so I guess it was kind of like little kid LARPing? Lol.
I used to do that too. In preschool, there was one incident that I remember clearly. It was where my friend was Tigris from Kung Fu Panda and I was....Barbie.
So apparently we had to run around in a circle on the cement to get places, which, in hindsight, wasn't a good idea. Because even when you're four you still don't have the best coordination. Yeah, so basically I fell and scraped my forehead on the cement. YAY FUN.One time I got yelled at in the pool for pretending to drown, and my friend had to save me.
Once again, not a good idea, but it sounded fun at the time.Oh and whenever we got into a fight, we'd both walk away and begin to sing songs, because we live in a musical.
Edit: I also had stuffed animals who had names/personalities, and such. I played with them when I couldn't sleep.
Bunny wrote:
I started roleplaying on Furcadia I believe (I can't seem to remember anything earlier than Furcadia that I'd count as RP) so I learned to post by starting with a colon and writing in third person novel format. All of my OOC was in brackets or parentheses. This probably sounds standard, but... My number one problem? I had no concept of setting/lore limitations. No matter what dream I walked into, I was always the same character. It didn't matter if that place didn't have magic, if it was only for ferals, or if it conformed to strict Furcadian lore.
My dumb little preteen self somehow got her hands on a Kitterwing, so I was gonna roleplay as a Kitterwing and no one could stop me. I wasn't just any Kitter either, I assumed they were like cat-people-fairies that controlled plants, had floaty Tinkerbell fairy dust, and could shrink things. I'd see a pack of wolves doing whatever wolves do and jump in like "Who wants to float!?"
I think a lot of people assumed I was a crack RPer or something of the sort. Maybe I was, but I just let my imagination flow. Sometimes I was happy-go-lucky and played out pure silliness, and other times I'd see that it's snowing in the dream and I'd decide: OH NO, I'M TRAPPED IN A BLIZZARD AND DYING BECAUSE MY STUPID FAIRY SELF ONLY WEARS A LOINCLOTH AND A TUBETOP!
I was also the kind of roleplayer that would try to roleplay as a wolf like everyone else, but I'd still make flower crowns and do backflips.
My dumb little preteen self somehow got her hands on a Kitterwing, so I was gonna roleplay as a Kitterwing and no one could stop me. I wasn't just any Kitter either, I assumed they were like cat-people-fairies that controlled plants, had floaty Tinkerbell fairy dust, and could shrink things. I'd see a pack of wolves doing whatever wolves do and jump in like "Who wants to float!?"
I think a lot of people assumed I was a crack RPer or something of the sort. Maybe I was, but I just let my imagination flow. Sometimes I was happy-go-lucky and played out pure silliness, and other times I'd see that it's snowing in the dream and I'd decide: OH NO, I'M TRAPPED IN A BLIZZARD AND DYING BECAUSE MY STUPID FAIRY SELF ONLY WEARS A LOINCLOTH AND A TUBETOP!
I was also the kind of roleplayer that would try to roleplay as a wolf like everyone else, but I'd still make flower crowns and do backflips.
This is so funny. I love that so much.
I also remember one time when I must've been super annoying to two other RPers on forums, because they were literally like having a moment and then I walk in and like bleed from the head and whine about it.
I started RPing by doing "comics" in a sketchbook with my best friend. We'd draw the characters' expressions or actions and jot down their speech next to it. We'd pass it back and forth all day in middle school. It reached a point where we had a following, and we'd loan out completed books for people to read. Eventually I moved to instant messenger RP when I made a friend at summer camp with whom I wanted to continue the plot of our comics. From there, I stuck with AIM RP for a while before discovering Furcadia in high school. Recently, I've moved on from that game to mostly using Discord and RPR PMs. I still draw my characters and RP scenes a lot, though!
i've been at about it for about five or six years. started on WoW with *emotes* and casual back-and-forth, but eventually moved onto deviantart where i started doing the ~BIG BOY~ writing. thanks for giving me the uncontrollable urge to crack open my seven year old deviantart account. i wanted to cry.
not too shabby, but i sure did like my ellipses and adverbs. moving on! this one's from last year, from right around this time. i had just joined RPR.
and now we reach the current day. i guess it's okay. ;^)
oh goodness - approximately three or four years ago
As they neared those sprawling lands far below them, Sakkormu gradually ceased flapping his wings and instead took on a steady glide, using the roaring currents of wind to his advantage and almost effortlessly soaring. Nearly the entire time they were airborne, he had futilely been trying to think of a way to land safely with his injured paw...it was nigh impossible, he decided, as most of the shock would usually be taken in his hind legs. Attempting to place it on his front half would likely result in him getting a mouthful of dirt and falling, thus crushing his passengers.
"I will do the best I can, but I suggest you hold on tightly. If anything goes awry, Ithariel can catch you," he quietly hummed, immense features furrowing in concentration as he began to drift downwards, pulling back simultaneously to reduce his speed. Yet, as the earth quickly came into view, coming closer with each passing second, he had to admit he was starting to rethink this. If nothing else, he was going to end up plowing straight through the stone structures!
Prepare for worst and hope for the best, as he had always told himself.
It did not take long for him to painfully meet the ground with his forelegs, doing exactly what he had predicted himself to do. He tumbled some fair distance, skidding and rolling onto his side, nearly smashing both of his companions and all but demolishing a good portion of the courtyard that had been laid out. The dragon grimaced at that brutal impact, but immediately glanced back at Ithariel and Seth to ensure they were still wholly alive and not too dead.
"Are you well? Were you injured?" he worriedly asked, fighting back his own hurts that had resulted from his collision for now- they weren't that important. He could take a crash far better than they could, as it was but pure luck that they hadn't been reduced to a bloody stain by his gracefulness!
The angel had been clinging on for dear life, his hands still tightly gripping Sakkormu's scales as he stared, bewildered at him. Gods, they had nearly died! What was going through that senile worm's head when he got the idea to fly when he couldn't even land properly with his current health? Oh, he wasn't going to hear the end of this for a long time, he would make sure of that.
"You're asking us if we are fine, but you're the one who just smashed into the countryside," Ithariel grumbled, "I think we'll manage, seeing as neither of us have had every bone broken in our body."
"I will do the best I can, but I suggest you hold on tightly. If anything goes awry, Ithariel can catch you," he quietly hummed, immense features furrowing in concentration as he began to drift downwards, pulling back simultaneously to reduce his speed. Yet, as the earth quickly came into view, coming closer with each passing second, he had to admit he was starting to rethink this. If nothing else, he was going to end up plowing straight through the stone structures!
Prepare for worst and hope for the best, as he had always told himself.
It did not take long for him to painfully meet the ground with his forelegs, doing exactly what he had predicted himself to do. He tumbled some fair distance, skidding and rolling onto his side, nearly smashing both of his companions and all but demolishing a good portion of the courtyard that had been laid out. The dragon grimaced at that brutal impact, but immediately glanced back at Ithariel and Seth to ensure they were still wholly alive and not too dead.
"Are you well? Were you injured?" he worriedly asked, fighting back his own hurts that had resulted from his collision for now- they weren't that important. He could take a crash far better than they could, as it was but pure luck that they hadn't been reduced to a bloody stain by his gracefulness!
The angel had been clinging on for dear life, his hands still tightly gripping Sakkormu's scales as he stared, bewildered at him. Gods, they had nearly died! What was going through that senile worm's head when he got the idea to fly when he couldn't even land properly with his current health? Oh, he wasn't going to hear the end of this for a long time, he would make sure of that.
"You're asking us if we are fine, but you're the one who just smashed into the countryside," Ithariel grumbled, "I think we'll manage, seeing as neither of us have had every bone broken in our body."
not too shabby, but i sure did like my ellipses and adverbs. moving on! this one's from last year, from right around this time. i had just joined RPR.
getting there.
It was a rainy evening in Manhattan. An unrelenting torrent fell from the darkened clouds, casting a gloomy sort of spell over the ever bustling city. Even with unfortunate weather, the city remained busy; a deafening cacophony of horns and sirens blaring continued, throes of people still took to the crowded streets- even some determined club-goers stood in line under the downpour.
Life went on as usual.
Under the protection of an over-sized hoodie, a shady looking figure made her way down through some lesser known alleyways. A stuffed backpack laid heavy on her shoulders, filled to the brim with more than a few types of the 'good stuff,' as her boss had called it. Whatever the hell it was, it sure felt like she was carrying a bunch of damn bricks. She idly lit a cigarette as she thought about it, flicking a few strands of sopping green hair from her wet face.
She took a long drag from her smoke, pausing a moment to admire the rain. Some time ago, she might have liked it because of its beauty- but now it meant her job would go off without a hitch. Most cops were fat-asses who hated dealing with any form of physical activity as it was, and if you put a little bit of a storm in there too? Well, she knew all too well the pigs couldn't be bothered to chase down some junkie. If they could even catch her, she thought with a snort.
Her rosy eyes glanced at movement behind her, concern briefly appearing on her face. Her surprise went away with ease as she watched a plump cat emerge from the shelter of some trashcans, and she couldn't help but to let out a small laugh. ****, here she was, experienced street-roamer and badass who had gotten scared by a kitty? She had nothing to be scared of. She had her gun, could definitely kick some ass, and oh yeah, she was only like the best ****ing kick-boxer in the WORLD. Or so she thought, at least. She had won a tournament like once or twice.
She chuckled softly, letting down her guard as she knelt down to gesture the feline over. Sure, she was exposing her self to the damn world, but she hadn't seen a single damn soul on her way here. There was time in her tough life to pet some mother****ing kitties. It couldn't be all stabby-stabby and shooting people, after all.
"Here, kitty-kitty, don't you dare ****ing scratch me," she cooed, putting her full attention on the animal.
Life went on as usual.
Under the protection of an over-sized hoodie, a shady looking figure made her way down through some lesser known alleyways. A stuffed backpack laid heavy on her shoulders, filled to the brim with more than a few types of the 'good stuff,' as her boss had called it. Whatever the hell it was, it sure felt like she was carrying a bunch of damn bricks. She idly lit a cigarette as she thought about it, flicking a few strands of sopping green hair from her wet face.
She took a long drag from her smoke, pausing a moment to admire the rain. Some time ago, she might have liked it because of its beauty- but now it meant her job would go off without a hitch. Most cops were fat-asses who hated dealing with any form of physical activity as it was, and if you put a little bit of a storm in there too? Well, she knew all too well the pigs couldn't be bothered to chase down some junkie. If they could even catch her, she thought with a snort.
Her rosy eyes glanced at movement behind her, concern briefly appearing on her face. Her surprise went away with ease as she watched a plump cat emerge from the shelter of some trashcans, and she couldn't help but to let out a small laugh. ****, here she was, experienced street-roamer and badass who had gotten scared by a kitty? She had nothing to be scared of. She had her gun, could definitely kick some ass, and oh yeah, she was only like the best ****ing kick-boxer in the WORLD. Or so she thought, at least. She had won a tournament like once or twice.
She chuckled softly, letting down her guard as she knelt down to gesture the feline over. Sure, she was exposing her self to the damn world, but she hadn't seen a single damn soul on her way here. There was time in her tough life to pet some mother****ing kitties. It couldn't be all stabby-stabby and shooting people, after all.
"Here, kitty-kitty, don't you dare ****ing scratch me," she cooed, putting her full attention on the animal.
and now we reach the current day. i guess it's okay. ;^)
insert witty remark here
Alleria Vanhel did not believe in alchemists.
At least, not for the past several decades of her life. She had regarded them the same way she had any other 'special' tradesman who claimed that their product had magical or spiritual qualities: with complete disbelief and utter distaste. Heralding from a materialistic and labor-intensive society herself, she believed in the practicality of hard work and an honest disposition - not the incredible shams of a merchant trying to make a quick buck off of the ignorant and gullible fools who bought into the idea that a potion or trinket made of miscellaneous waste would bring them good in life.
That being said, Alleria was also not a stubborn mule when it came to taking part in a feast that readily presented itself. Mithril, as the rich folk in the trades district had called it; some sort of 'transmutable' ore that had twice the wicked bite of Elryian steel, but with all the airy weight of Lexumian quicksilver. A knowledgeable blacksmith and fine connoisseur of the ores and metals that the lands had to offer, she knew that this baffling myth spread by the oblivious bastards held no truth - but who was she to turn down such a profit? She could already taste the metallic twang of the weighted crowns on her tongue: a running price of fourteen hundred crowns for a single greatsword. That sort of gain could keep her afloat for half a season, and the demand was nothing short of overwhelming for this new type of blade.
Some may have found their heart heavy with guilt at the prospect of willingly conning the public, but Alleria faced no such internal quarrel. If the noblemen wanted to throw their pretty coin to the hungry abyss, then she would gladly be their ferryman.
This was how she had found herself in the middle of...absolutely nowhere.
A sweaty beast of a draft geldling in tow behind her, the lone dragoness had walked the worn trails of an overgrown forest for what was now two moons in a row. By the eve of the first day, she had left behind the familiar walls of the outskirts of the kingdom, and by the next dawn, she had made fair timing on her arrival to a secluded village. Most of the second day had been spent badgering the townsfolk for information, and she had quickly come to suspect that the given location had merely been bestowed upon her as a way to get her the **** out of their hair. This was fine. She was not here to make friends.
What was not fine, however, was the rising suspicion in the back of her head that she had been woefully misguided on purpose. It had been many hours since she had laid eyes upon a directional sign, let alone another soul. Her only company proved to be the small critters of the woods, and the goddamn pestering insects that incessantly tried to gnaw their way under her scales. It was around this point that she became grateful that she had allowed herself to be conned into renting the mangy horse behind her, if simply not because she would have been the one carrying a hundred pounds of weight on her shoulders without it. Her back ached bad enough as it was; her kind was not made for long travels in stupid, humid forests, for ****'s sake!
The fiery-orange sun had just started its slow, gradual descent below the horizon when she finally stumbled upon the first signs of civilization.
It wasn't impressive.
A shabby little wooden hut, huddled neatly in a worn bend of the dirt trail, inconspicuous and absolutely mundane. Mediocre architecture, equivalent to that of the rats. Funky smelling, like medicinal herbs and an acidic property that she could not quite identify. Not small, but not big; a few notches too short for her to be able to stand comfortably in. She didn't like it. Amateur craftsmanship all around.
Amateur, just like every other alchemist in the bloody realm.
There must have been some god looking down upon the poor alchemist inside, for it was truly a miracle that the wooden door did not splinter beneath the dragoness' heavy fist as she inconsiderately took to pounding on it.
"ALCHEMIST," she barked, her rough voice a booming thunder against the tranquil calm of the forest. "I REQUIRE YOUR SERVICES."
At least, not for the past several decades of her life. She had regarded them the same way she had any other 'special' tradesman who claimed that their product had magical or spiritual qualities: with complete disbelief and utter distaste. Heralding from a materialistic and labor-intensive society herself, she believed in the practicality of hard work and an honest disposition - not the incredible shams of a merchant trying to make a quick buck off of the ignorant and gullible fools who bought into the idea that a potion or trinket made of miscellaneous waste would bring them good in life.
That being said, Alleria was also not a stubborn mule when it came to taking part in a feast that readily presented itself. Mithril, as the rich folk in the trades district had called it; some sort of 'transmutable' ore that had twice the wicked bite of Elryian steel, but with all the airy weight of Lexumian quicksilver. A knowledgeable blacksmith and fine connoisseur of the ores and metals that the lands had to offer, she knew that this baffling myth spread by the oblivious bastards held no truth - but who was she to turn down such a profit? She could already taste the metallic twang of the weighted crowns on her tongue: a running price of fourteen hundred crowns for a single greatsword. That sort of gain could keep her afloat for half a season, and the demand was nothing short of overwhelming for this new type of blade.
Some may have found their heart heavy with guilt at the prospect of willingly conning the public, but Alleria faced no such internal quarrel. If the noblemen wanted to throw their pretty coin to the hungry abyss, then she would gladly be their ferryman.
This was how she had found herself in the middle of...absolutely nowhere.
A sweaty beast of a draft geldling in tow behind her, the lone dragoness had walked the worn trails of an overgrown forest for what was now two moons in a row. By the eve of the first day, she had left behind the familiar walls of the outskirts of the kingdom, and by the next dawn, she had made fair timing on her arrival to a secluded village. Most of the second day had been spent badgering the townsfolk for information, and she had quickly come to suspect that the given location had merely been bestowed upon her as a way to get her the **** out of their hair. This was fine. She was not here to make friends.
What was not fine, however, was the rising suspicion in the back of her head that she had been woefully misguided on purpose. It had been many hours since she had laid eyes upon a directional sign, let alone another soul. Her only company proved to be the small critters of the woods, and the goddamn pestering insects that incessantly tried to gnaw their way under her scales. It was around this point that she became grateful that she had allowed herself to be conned into renting the mangy horse behind her, if simply not because she would have been the one carrying a hundred pounds of weight on her shoulders without it. Her back ached bad enough as it was; her kind was not made for long travels in stupid, humid forests, for ****'s sake!
The fiery-orange sun had just started its slow, gradual descent below the horizon when she finally stumbled upon the first signs of civilization.
It wasn't impressive.
A shabby little wooden hut, huddled neatly in a worn bend of the dirt trail, inconspicuous and absolutely mundane. Mediocre architecture, equivalent to that of the rats. Funky smelling, like medicinal herbs and an acidic property that she could not quite identify. Not small, but not big; a few notches too short for her to be able to stand comfortably in. She didn't like it. Amateur craftsmanship all around.
Amateur, just like every other alchemist in the bloody realm.
There must have been some god looking down upon the poor alchemist inside, for it was truly a miracle that the wooden door did not splinter beneath the dragoness' heavy fist as she inconsiderately took to pounding on it.
"ALCHEMIST," she barked, her rough voice a booming thunder against the tranquil calm of the forest. "I REQUIRE YOUR SERVICES."
My origins... Dear god, looking back, I feel so embarrassed for my younger self. I started the same way everyone else did:
Lexi: *kicks down the door, walks into the bar* What's up, my homies?
But my "platform" of choice was text messages between two friends of mine. We had no particular plots or any direction; it was just me and one of them talking back and forth, using Kingdom Hearts characters and self-insert Mary Sue OCs until some semblance of a story was formed. I followed one of these friends like a religion after a while, and stumbled across DeviantArt and IMVU. My writing changed a bit as I settled in with a casual IMVU roleplay family, and joined an academy/school-based group on dA that my friend was also a part of. I had also started making original characters at this time that weren't self-inserts.
Things got hairy after that. I lost a lot of friends and acquaintances around 2012, including the one that I had followed up to that point. I ended up roleplaying on Google Hangouts with someone who's now my current friend. Things stayed the same for a while until I stumbled upon Facebook and their fandom roleplaying scene. I made a page as Yuna from FFX to attract some canon roleplay, but got no responses from anyone. However, I did stumble across a link to RPR while surfing through someone's character page. After joining, I got more into the paragraph style of writing as I connected with other roleplayers here, and became forever hooked into it. Now my writing is more like this:
I grew more verbose and descriptive, wanting to paint scenes with my words for people to immerse themselves in. I shelved playing as canon characters permanently while my original character/worldbuilding kick went into overdrive. I still have a long way to go, but I'm proud of the progress I've made so far!
Lexi: *kicks down the door, walks into the bar* What's up, my homies?
But my "platform" of choice was text messages between two friends of mine. We had no particular plots or any direction; it was just me and one of them talking back and forth, using Kingdom Hearts characters and self-insert Mary Sue OCs until some semblance of a story was formed. I followed one of these friends like a religion after a while, and stumbled across DeviantArt and IMVU. My writing changed a bit as I settled in with a casual IMVU roleplay family, and joined an academy/school-based group on dA that my friend was also a part of. I had also started making original characters at this time that weren't self-inserts.
Things got hairy after that. I lost a lot of friends and acquaintances around 2012, including the one that I had followed up to that point. I ended up roleplaying on Google Hangouts with someone who's now my current friend. Things stayed the same for a while until I stumbled upon Facebook and their fandom roleplaying scene. I made a page as Yuna from FFX to attract some canon roleplay, but got no responses from anyone. However, I did stumble across a link to RPR while surfing through someone's character page. After joining, I got more into the paragraph style of writing as I connected with other roleplayers here, and became forever hooked into it. Now my writing is more like this:
Very Long Text Ahead...
The bar was quiet, the peace homey and welcoming as various amounts of customers chattered away amongst their meals and drinks. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the tapping and clanking of utensils against plates made up the busy ambiance of the place, smoky wisps from cigarettes and cigars and the occasional cough lending a sort of seediness alongside it. The barkeep was keeping to his business, wiping down glasses with a towel and taking orders from the many barflies slurring their speech across the counter.
A bang echoed throughout the area, shattering the peace. Everyone fell into a stunned silence as they turned their heads to the front door. Another bang. The bartender put down his glass and towel, readying his hands to snatch up the nearby phone. The source of the banging then revealed itself as the door was slammed from its hinges, clattering to the floor with a rough thud.
A figure emerged from the now-open walkway, a cool uncaring swagger lending sway to their hips as they approached the bar. It was a woman. Dark skin, scruffy raven hair, red tank top and miniskirt paired with black thigh-high boots, one amber eye scanning the area while the other being hidden by a long bang... As the dim lighting illuminated the scars slashed against both of her arms, everything about her screamed danger.
All eyes were on her for various reasons, most of which was her causing a scene by kicking down the door. However, the bartender seemed to relax a little as she pressed her small chest against the bartop, leaning forward in a casual pose that contrasted with her violent entrance. As an after thought, she turned her head towards the crowd with an easy-going, sly smirk on her lips. Smoothing a stray strand back into her bang with a gloved hand, her almond-shaped eyes smiled at her cautious audience. "'Sup," she greeted them with a calloused, urban tenor. Her voice sounded deep, laced with the ravaged reminders of cigar smoke in her throat. "Don' mine me, jes lookin' fer someone."
A bang echoed throughout the area, shattering the peace. Everyone fell into a stunned silence as they turned their heads to the front door. Another bang. The bartender put down his glass and towel, readying his hands to snatch up the nearby phone. The source of the banging then revealed itself as the door was slammed from its hinges, clattering to the floor with a rough thud.
A figure emerged from the now-open walkway, a cool uncaring swagger lending sway to their hips as they approached the bar. It was a woman. Dark skin, scruffy raven hair, red tank top and miniskirt paired with black thigh-high boots, one amber eye scanning the area while the other being hidden by a long bang... As the dim lighting illuminated the scars slashed against both of her arms, everything about her screamed danger.
All eyes were on her for various reasons, most of which was her causing a scene by kicking down the door. However, the bartender seemed to relax a little as she pressed her small chest against the bartop, leaning forward in a casual pose that contrasted with her violent entrance. As an after thought, she turned her head towards the crowd with an easy-going, sly smirk on her lips. Smoothing a stray strand back into her bang with a gloved hand, her almond-shaped eyes smiled at her cautious audience. "'Sup," she greeted them with a calloused, urban tenor. Her voice sounded deep, laced with the ravaged reminders of cigar smoke in her throat. "Don' mine me, jes lookin' fer someone."
I grew more verbose and descriptive, wanting to paint scenes with my words for people to immerse themselves in. I shelved playing as canon characters permanently while my original character/worldbuilding kick went into overdrive. I still have a long way to go, but I'm proud of the progress I've made so far!
I'm new here but not at all new to roleplaying. Like some of you I started as a little kid playing with my sister. We had everything from Ship Cats, to a human spaceship crashing on a magic based elven planet, to our own multiverse. I'm not kidding on that last one, my sister was a fan of Sliders so we made a hall of infinite doors each of which lead to a different dimension and connected all of our settings through it.
After that I hung out on a now long defunct anime chatroom called JFan, then it was Neopets, DeviantArt, Gaia Online, and through most of those AIM, YIM, and MSN IM. Eventually I settled to Trillian Astra for just me and my partner which is where I typically am now.
Somewhere around the Neopets era I fell in with a more "advanced" group roleplay. I tried my hardest to match their standards and keep pace with them, but forcing out multiple dense paragraphs whether I really felt up to it or not just to maintain my status with them was a chore, not fun. Instant message roleplay was my speed, with short fast posts and back and forth sessions that could last for hours including frequent OOC check-ins to be sure we were on the same page or just swap funny links.
So then why am I here? Well for one thing AIM isn't around anymore, and none of the sites I used to frequent have the same roleplay culture that I loved them for. And my partner is going through a rough patch which means little energy or tolerance for role play. Which us brings us to now with me searching for a place to refind what I lost years ago, that special friendship that forms between people as they throw their characters through wild situations together.
After that I hung out on a now long defunct anime chatroom called JFan, then it was Neopets, DeviantArt, Gaia Online, and through most of those AIM, YIM, and MSN IM. Eventually I settled to Trillian Astra for just me and my partner which is where I typically am now.
Somewhere around the Neopets era I fell in with a more "advanced" group roleplay. I tried my hardest to match their standards and keep pace with them, but forcing out multiple dense paragraphs whether I really felt up to it or not just to maintain my status with them was a chore, not fun. Instant message roleplay was my speed, with short fast posts and back and forth sessions that could last for hours including frequent OOC check-ins to be sure we were on the same page or just swap funny links.
So then why am I here? Well for one thing AIM isn't around anymore, and none of the sites I used to frequent have the same roleplay culture that I loved them for. And my partner is going through a rough patch which means little energy or tolerance for role play. Which us brings us to now with me searching for a place to refind what I lost years ago, that special friendship that forms between people as they throw their characters through wild situations together.
oof. I started role-playing when I was 2-3(not just pretending to be animal like all kids do, I've been told of make up worlds and act them out for days)
But I first started doing text rp at 12 and omg
1. I had no spelling skills
2. I could not for the life of me make my posts flow or connect to plots and other posts.
3. half of my posts were made up of cringey comments and an unholy number of evil emojis
4. o m g the chars I made were like trying so hard to be edgy and dark and all sorts of mysterious. their personalities also clashed so hard "trats: dark, misteryus, super sweet nd frindly to aynone, open, onest"(actual quote) like what the heck is that lmao. now I tend to write paragraphs as personalities for my characters.
we had a computer that has a screensaver that looked like you were space traveling(stars zooming past on the screen) and I'd turn those rolling office chars upside down, and pretend the legs(?) were a steering wheel and I'd be an astronaut trying to land the ship. I'd then always crash and turn into a green space lady the could make tornadoes and fly. I had so much fun with that and did it every frigging day for months when I was little(like 7). good times
But I first started doing text rp at 12 and omg
1. I had no spelling skills
2. I could not for the life of me make my posts flow or connect to plots and other posts.
3. half of my posts were made up of cringey comments and an unholy number of evil emojis
4. o m g the chars I made were like trying so hard to be edgy and dark and all sorts of mysterious. their personalities also clashed so hard "trats: dark, misteryus, super sweet nd frindly to aynone, open, onest"(actual quote) like what the heck is that lmao. now I tend to write paragraphs as personalities for my characters.
we had a computer that has a screensaver that looked like you were space traveling(stars zooming past on the screen) and I'd turn those rolling office chars upside down, and pretend the legs(?) were a steering wheel and I'd be an astronaut trying to land the ship. I'd then always crash and turn into a green space lady the could make tornadoes and fly. I had so much fun with that and did it every frigging day for months when I was little(like 7). good times
I first started to roleplay in middle school, in the AOL chat rooms. In one of those, I heard about Furcadia and decided to try it out. I rped on Furc, off and on, for many years. I made a profile on here and then started to explore the site more, having always thought forum roleplay would be too slow paced to keep my interests. Now I'll be sticking with RPR, and sometimes I think of going back to Furc but I always resist.
Oof, I have to say I started really roleplaying back in 2012-13ish. I remember using this one site that a friend of mine had gotten me onto called RPC, or Roleplay Chat. It was a cacophony or threads and dms, lots of trolls, with hardly any management. I also used Wattpad as well, through pm mostly. It was't until about 2013 or 14 that the same friend that had gotten me on RPC and wattpad introduced me to rpr and I signed up. Never looked back sense. I will say that my style has now become more flexible than it used to be, and I have learned a lot more words that work better when writing long posts.
Oh boy I think looking back i was probably 13 when i started Role playing. IMVU was my go to platform. Back then i would aim for 3 to 5 sentences but some people lack imagination. Posting examples from back then would be too embarrassing. They were not awful but they defiantly were not great. Depending on my RP partner i post up to 4 paragraphs at a time. So pretty much a high school essay
I began roleplaying when I was 18. I started out with tabletop games, like DnD. After that, I found roleplay in LOTRO, but I didn't get very far with that (I didn't find much outside of The Prancing Pony). But then ESO dropped and I hopped on that. RP took root rather quickly in that game and I roleplayed as I do now.
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