Role Playing - New York University: A Roleplaying Game for Original Characters - Page 5

degausser · 11-10-2014, 01:04 PM

I really like Interstellar Lipstain.

winter soldier · 11-10-2014, 01:06 PM

Hey. You're not in the band.

degausser · 11-10-2014, 01:11 PM

Way to rub it in.

Maybe they change their name frequently because they can never agree on a name?

winter soldier · 11-10-2014, 01:15 PM

I like that idea, too. As well as their musical style.

Captivating · 11-10-2014, 01:21 PM

I support this inconsistency in the band.

winter soldier · 11-10-2014, 01:23 PM

Pocket Full of Fail.

degausser · 11-10-2014, 01:34 PM

That's a fantastic name as well.

AtomicEmpress · 11-10-2014, 02:02 PM

Upon seeing the Taylor Swift video, I have a deep urge to make a character based on it.

Captivating · 11-10-2014, 02:33 PM

Do it. I'm so in love with that video/song.

degausser · 11-10-2014, 08:07 PM

OOC: And we’re starting.

The starting of this skip is very simple: The currently as-yet-to-be-settled-on-a-name band is performing at some hole in the wall little club in Greenwich Village. We’ll call it The Hole for convenience. Think of it as a very small, very dark, slightly run-down, may potentially have vagrants living in the bathroom kind of place … with a make-shift dance floor right in front of a dilapidated stage. Anyone with any relation to any of the band members were probably invited and encouraged to use some kind of social media networking site (like facebook) to pimp out the performance. That way anyone who is not associated with anyone in the band might have still heard of it.

Greenwich Village is also where NYU’s main campus and the associated dorms are located, so anyone getting out of class/living in the area could easily meander on into the little place by accident. You are all welcome to place your characters anywhere else in the city as well.

Lucas and Sydney are open if anyone wants them. I am not going to actively pimp them out right now, but feel free to tag them if the inspiration strikes. Lucas is probably there to attempt to show his support for Virginia, albeit unhappily. I could be persuaded to put Sydney there as well if someone has need of her. Just tag them if you want them. You don’t need to ask my permission.

Mallorie Gates
“I know that look,” Mallorie observed critically out loud as she and her sister approached the entrance to The Hole. It had taken a lot of pleading and poking and incessant prodding on her part to convince her sister to come out with her that evening. Amanda Gates was a stick in the mud after all. She generally avoided any and all things that sounded remotely fun. It took a great deal of, erm … how to put this tactfully … verbal distortion on her part to convince Amanda that this excursion would be worth it. Mallorie had promised they were going to enjoy an evening of fine music in an establishment of refinery and taste. It wasn’t a full on lie. There was going to be music, and the concept of what constituted as good taste really depended on the eye of the beholder.

Mallorie could tell by the look of utter abhorrence on her sister’s face that she was not pleased with their intended destination. At all. “That’s your ‘this place is filthy and uncouth and this night is going to suck’ look.” If Mallorie were to be completely honest with herself, even she would have to admit that the place looked a tad suspect. The hinges on the front door were bent and the paint was peeling. The sign above the door was missing a couple of letters as well. It looked less like the entrance to a club and more like the entrance to a building that had been condemned. Mallorie remained ever vigilant in her optimism and smiled brightly over her shoulder at Amanda. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks.” To her credit, none of the doubt she was beginning to feel managed to show in her tone. Extending an elbow out for her sister to link her arm into, Mallorie ~~dragged~~ guided Amanda in the direction of the entrance, observing the peeling paint and the rust on the hinges more closely as they approached.

Her smile fell, if only slightly, and she resisted the urge to turn up her nose in repugnance. “You probably should avoid touching anything on the way in though …”
TAG AMANDA

Christopher Graham
Christopher Graham could not help but wonder what his eighteen-year-old self would say of his present self at the moment: elbow deep in papers waiting to be graded with seemingly no relief in sight. Responsibility was not a word that had been utilized in his vocabulary at the time. In fact, Chris was fairly certain he may have been allergic to it, which might have explained the constant itch in his naval cavities. And yet here he was all the same. Unconsciously his fingers danced over the scar on his upper left abdomen, a memento from a time in his life when he had been dashing and brave and bold which were also synonyms for foolhardy and reckless and daft. Come to think of it, his eighteen-year-old self would probably be too drunk or strung out or a combination of the two to give much thought to what his present self was doing. It gave him some small measure of comfort to think about.

Inevitably though, the thoughts of his younger self immediately segued into thoughts of a certain brunette he had become enamored with in high school. Four months he had been living in the city and Chris had yet to reach out to her, though he had selected her number in his address book several times only to stop just before he hit the call button. He wasn’t sure what it was that kept him from getting in touch with her, though a voice in the back of his head sounding suspiciously like his ex-fiancé suggested it was because he was afraid. Afraid of what was anyone’s best guess.

Chris attempted to refocus, setting the thoughts of Celinda Garrett aside just long enough to return his attention to the paper in front of him. The letters all seemed to blend together though, his concentration effectively ruined by his suddenly restless state. An inner debate soon raged within, Chris suddenly confronted with the Shakespearean dilemma of action vs. inaction. He was on his feet before he knew it, papers shoved haphazardly into his book bag and suddenly his feet had hit the New York City pavement with renewed determination. A phone call to a mutual friend informed him that she was now dancing with the American Ballet Theater. It took three different subway trains and a four-block walk to get him to his intended destination. He paused briefly outside the building, wondering what exactly it was he planned to do once he found her.

Deciding he would just wing it, Chris made his way into the building, finding it somewhat odd that he had been able to meander about without anyone questioning his being there. After a significant amount of searching, he found himself in a fairly large room with a stage at the far end. The darkness obscured his presence, a fact for which he was grateful for as his stomach suddenly leaped into his throat upon recognizing a familiar figure upon the stage. It had been years since he had last seen her but even with her back turned to him he knew her body all too well having spent several hours memorizing it all those years ago. Maneuvering through a small group of spectators, Chris ducked into a private alcove along the far wall, watching as she and her partner moved carefully in time to the music.
TAG CELINDA

Shiri S · 11-10-2014, 08:35 PM

OOC: My tag ideas:

Kristina > Spencer.
Morris > Penny.
Randi > Band.
Shane > Open.

Captivating · 11-11-2014, 01:16 PM

OOC: I'm so excited for this!

Here is my TAG list (feel free to tag me first). I'm hoping to get posts out tonight and tomorrow.

Amanda > Mallorie
Spencer > Kristina
Deacon > Nick? Someone from the band.
Becks > Open?

sumiregusa · 11-11-2014, 02:52 PM

OOC: Eeeeee so excited, so excited. Noelle is open to be tagged if anyone has the impulse. Yes I'm still formulating Liam PB (he might be a culinary student) so keep your peepers open for a profile soon. Also no, none of my future posts will be anything like this in length. At all.

Celinda Garrett
When it came to her daily routine of dance with dance on top of dance and more dance on the side, Celinda Garrett had been accustomed to the concept of blind trust. Of course it would have been insulting if anyone might show up to an official performance rehearsal at American Ballet Theatre and not be a trained professional. Still, it followed that most of, if not all, of Celinda’s partnering and choreography meant that she would willingly balance all her weight on someone’s palm or fling herself through the air numerous times at great speed and believe that someone was going to catch her. One of the joys in a dancer’s life really. All implied sarcasm aside and despite having been dropped her fair share of times in earlier years, she found the loss of control rather thrilling. She hadn’t quite figured out how to link that affinity for the unknown with her actual life experiences though. Work in progress.

Celinda would be lying if she said she hadn’t ever thought about things left unfinished with certain people from her past. It had become something of a cycle, when high-school-aged and boyishly-handsome Christopher Graham would flash across her mind and she would remember how hard she’d fallen and how no one had ever compared. He had known plenty about her existence as a dancer and that meant she never set foot on a stage without rehashing his hands pulling at her tights or his arms around her leotarded waist. The idea comforted and annoyed her, since she had no knowledge of where he was or what he was doing with his life. Or if he cared at all.

Back in the present and surrounded by a sea of limbs, her fingertips articulated the end of a pose as her group finished the segment they had been working on for hours in the dimmed auditorium. Naturally they were all exhausted and heaving for oxygen but satisfied with the work put in, winding down in their own separate ways. Celinda did a quick check-in with her coach then went to laugh and joke around with everyone like she normally did in Contemporary as the lights came up in the room. Sometimes a friend or a random guy would be waiting in the audience and her attention flitted in that direction out of habit, not expecting to see anyone in particular. The pair of blue eyes staring back at her brown ones rooted her feet in place and she froze instantly. Her dance pals continued talking and goofing off, filtering around and in front of her, but she wasn’t seeing them. She thought she heard herself say “Chris” out loud but she might have imagined that, her feet moving on their own and carrying her off the stage toward him.

Silly her for believing she was above dramatic reactions to things, seeing life go by in slow motion and whatevertheflip. Feelings were gross and icky and came with germs. The closer she got to him, however, the less she cared about that. Celinda was in a trance that didn’t end even when she was standing directly in front of him, her vision now glazed over as she took him in. She felt in no way desirable, still out of breath with her clothes and hair clinging to the dampness of her skin. The impulse to burst into tears came on like a freight train but she literally swallowed it down and thought of something to say. “I….what’re you doing here?”

DreamOn777 · 11-11-2014, 03:04 PM

Mind if I join in, guys?

Going to try to knock profiles out.

Bringing back my NYU drug dealer (Aaron Paul) and I think either Leigha Lansing from GH: Next Gen with a new pb or an aged down Laurel from Daughters (Rooney Mara)

And maybe another girl or boy. If anyone needs anything, let me know?

Shiri S · 11-11-2014, 04:34 PM

Sarah I'm going to PM you


Fan Forum > Archived General Discussion > Role Playing > New York University: A Roleplaying Game for Original Characters