#pcrp intro

[saltfoxadventures]

A Rude Awakening

Fox lets out a long yawn as he’d stretch his arms, looks like he ended up falling asleep doing paperwork last night again. His vision was still blurry and he didn’t even realize that he wasn’t on his ship but a five star resort hotel. 

He still felt exhausted so maybe some more shut eye wouldn’t hurt. Suddenly he felt the chair move, so he’s being carried off somewhere? Weird. Fox was still half asleep so he wasn’t completely aware of his surroundings and what was happening now. 

He assumed it was his crew, were they trying to prank him? Or.. maybe his crew are finally showing Fox some thanks and did something nice for once, maybe cook him some breakfast?

“What’re you guys doing? Y’ know you could just wake me up next time, I’m not that deep of a sleeper.”

The vulpine then fully wakes up as he feels himself and the chair he was sitting on go airborn. 

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!”

Turns out a bunch of strange looking creatures with stupid looking hats carried him off and decided to just toss him like trash. Looks like Fox, one way or another is going into that pit. 

[climaxjump-blog]

Alright, fate of the world. That’s normal. Trade in Den-O? That’s questionable. But he gets a new power in exchange, so that’s fine. But it’s the mention of a wish that gets him. There’s a lot of things one could wish for. And a real wish, not like the ones he’s supposed to grant. So he signs a sloppy RYUTAROS on the page with little hesitation, and away he goes.

Headphones on, belt and pass stashed in his coat (hah, maybe they forgot to take them!), blue key in pocket, some of his drawings up on the wall, he walks out of the room at a jaunty bounce.

And everyone loses their fucking shit. A mess of creatures that he presumes to be be more imagin like him (Mr. Coat would have benefited from explaining the concept of "demons” beforehand) throng around him, yelling something about those Personas as he’s roughly drag-pushed along out of the building and into the streets.

He notices a couple humans in similar situations, and even some running of their own free will, but he’s a little preoccupied by a... horse, a snowman, and a butterfly...? making him hurry to somewhere and not answering his questions. A couple other figures of varying types seem concerned but are too concerned by the general chaos to do anything about it. So he’s promptly led along with a couple cries of “Hey, watch the ponytail!” to what looks like a boiling pot of coffee. If that pot was boiled for a couple days too long, and was in the ground, and gigantic, and had masks in it.

By this point the chaos is at a maximum, and he couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to (which he did). The ones shoving him run off, replaced immediately by a throng of chaos. A couple point and yell things to him which he can’t hear over the din beyond generally assuming it’s directed at him, and when he returns a look of confusion to someone running closer and telling him to do something he receives a boot in the behind from someone else, and before he know it unidentified hands and limbs- some of them warm, some of them slimy-cold- seize him and drop him into the pit without so much as a how-do-you-do.

The gut feeling of falling sucks. No matter how many times you do it, it’s never fun. It lasts just long enough to remind him that he wasn’t on the ground before he comes to a stop. A stop in the form of catching his legs on some hanging vines- he notes that vines are not usually found in shadowy holes- and getting quickly entangled, his ponytail and headphones dangling from his head as he hangs upside-down, trying to process this situation.

“I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet today.”

[youroldpalhancock]

What’s this? What’s this?

"Well, I'll be damned."

The droplet of water rolled off of the pitted skin of his hand as he watched, and he stuck his arm out from beneath the awning again. Another of the little white flakes he'd assumed were ash landed on it, and did its miraculous transformation from white fluff into water.

Snow, supplied a little voice in his head that sounded vaguely like Nora. Frozen rain.

On impulse he stepped out into the courtyard completely. The snow immediately bombarded him, tiny impacts like shrapnel but with a twinge of cold instead of heat. Painless.

He laughed, and when a flake landed in his mouth, he opened it wider and stuck out his tongue to catch more.

Hancock had no idea what chems he'd taken to hallucinate snow, but this was without a doubt the best trip he's ever had.

[nobodytoucheshispreciousnan-blog]

A New Journey

“What a strange place...” Narukami stood outside of the lodge, glancing down the main streets of the new town he’d found himself in. Judging by the mountains in the distance, the chilly climate, and the all-around different atmosphere, Yu felt like he was in a different region altogether, almost like the Midnight Channel. The only difference was, there was no entry or exit point for this world.

“...” He stood silently, pressing his thumb to his lip in thought. First things first, he had to find out if any of his friends had also been transported to this strange place with him. Any familiar faces he could find could prove invaluable to figuring out this dilemma.

[digitaldevilsummoner-blog]

Thousands of years into the future, historians still debate where the phrase “really went full Nakajima on that one” truly originated.

That is, assuming the human race even survives that long in the face of the inevitable demonic onslaught brought about by the Demon Summoning Program.

Akemi Nakajima was not having a good day. It wasn’t a particularly good month for him either. Well, maybe a couple months prior had been pretty bad as well. But today was probably the worst of all. Fighting demons and exploring dungeons weren’t exactly life skills Nakajima had been prepared to use ever, let alone all in one day for hours on end. So he felt so, so justified in collapsing the first moment the possibility of rest while not being susceptible to murder made itself available.

He even for the moment humored dreaming of a strange blue room, regardless of the fact he never could remember dreams this vivid.

It was probably rude to show up to anything covered in blood and beaten brutally by a demon hours before. That being said, Nakajima hadn’t exactly been given a moment to shower and change. Idly he wondered why he would dream himself like this, but he supposed it was symbolic. Being introduced to those inside he figured was doubly so.

The contract set in front of him baffled him greatly. Forcible strength? Inner strength? The second paragraph, the one about defending, at least made sense. It was something for the hero of a town to sign. But Nakajima wasn’t exactly a hero- hell, he’d really been doing nothing but harm for everybody even when he wasn’t trying. He did one good deed preceded by a hundred bad ones, and the good one wasn’t even on par with the bad ones.

He was ready to push the paper back with a return to sender immediately when the mysterious figure spoke something about a wish.

“Anything you desire” was painfully vague. But something told him there may have been an element of truth in that. His reason told him that it was likely just an empty promise, but his inquisitiveness told him that after everything that had happened today, he may as well give it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

…Possibly not the best question to be asking when you had just accidentally led to the deaths of dozens of people, but that didn’t lessen his curiosity. He wanted to advance the plot of this dream anyway.

Eventually he gave in. The way the contract was worded, it didn’t ask for perfection. It asked only for his help and the fact he remain somewhere. While he was a busy man, with any wish he wanted, he could make up for whatever amount of time he needed. He went ahead and signed the contract, despite how strangely vague and archaic it sounded. It seemed far too simple to be selling his soul to Lucifer or something. He’d burn that bridge when he got there.

The rest of the conversation was more literal, he would at least give it that. Unfortunately it also told him that he would have to be fighting more things, which he had figured when he’d heard he would be defending something. Still, he was not all that jazzed up about fighting after having recently suffered a split open head and a dead… spiritual girlfriend? girlfriend-tensei? Come to think of it, he’d never really worked out what his relationship with Yumiko was supposed to be before she’d died.

He’d gotten so caught up in considering how awkward it would be to breach that topic that he zoned out completely during some part about working together. But Nakajima just smiled and nodded (well, more like continued to pout and didn’t make any gestures to exhibit confusion) at it all. So he would have allies. How much explanation could that need anyway? Besides, it would be embarrassing to ask the dream narrator to repeat themselves at this point. Better to just not cry over spilled milk and accidentally skipped tutorials.

At what seemed like a rushed farewell, the edges of the dream slipped from his grasp, and he fell back into uninteresting sleep.

He awoke in a room. It wasn’t his room, and it definitely wasn’t where he’d fallen asleep. His head still hurt, but it felt like a dull ringing ache more than sharp pain now. Once he felt like his head wasn’t about to explode, he pulled himself out of bed to investigate the rest of the room, along with the box. He noted that his laptop was there, but he figured he’d whip out that bad boy later, so he simply set it aside. The note was more important. So this was like a safe zone, huh. Well, he’d better check out everything here before heading out then.

He peered into a small side room off of the main room. A bathroom, thankfully. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. Immediate wince. Not only were he and his uniform covered in dirt, they were also covered in crusty, dry blood- most of which wasn’t even his, especially not the purple stuff. He looked terrible, even though he felt like most of his actual injuries were healed up already.

His priorities quickly shifted to begin with a thorough shower and attempt at washing his clothes.

[fourthshot]

What a strange place.

He was not one unfamiliar with impossible spaces, tales of the Void and the stars above detailed so meticulously through plays living him with a vivid enough image of it that he could assume that that room-- that blue void-- was not far from his expectations of those places.

Perhaps less utterly alien. Perhaps a bit too... human. The room had lost its charm after far too short a while and left him wanting more, something to keep his interest, let his mind work to unravel what it all was. But alas. His sole source of stimulation quickly became the prattling of the figure in front of him. Such fancies they spoke of-- contracts that could grant wishes, as if this was some twisted storybook, some tale of caution to those young and impressionable. But Jhin, for once in his life, humored the poor fool. He patiently waited, humming and hawing at their careful explanations of how this all worked; these Shadows he was to destroy, fantastical powers granted by a Persona, and oh, the fate of the universe’s untimely end rests upon you--

What a strange place.

Still.

As much as Jhin loathed to admit it, said untimely demise of the world would put a rather abrupt end to his performance. And that just wouldn’t do. He still had so much to do, so much to show the world; not a single creation he could yet call his masterpiece.

And if the claim of wish fulfillment was more than just empty lies to draw in daydreaming fools? Oh, wouldn’t that be just a dream. Of course, an artist’s struggle was part of their art, but if the leash put on him could be dissolved with such a small thing? If he would be let go without having to do much more than keep performing, grandiose show after grandiose show, until those shadows had all become part of his piece?

His fingers itched to get to work, a stroke of inspiration spurring him on from the moment he’d awoken. They trembled and shook, a wave of heat coming over the artist as he paced about the room, rhythmical noises of metal scraping against wood with every step he took-- a symphony in itself, weight on the fourth step as he turned on his heel. He needed to calm himself. Contain those emotions, treasure the inspiration, as much as he loathed to restrict his own passion the opportunity he had was too grand to ruin with a simple impulse.

That was for fools.

No, he needed a mask. Someone who wouldn’t draw attention, a simple man; interesting enough for some to approach, but not so much that there was any suspicion cast, that people would talk-- no, not talk, whisper and murmur and look twice, thrice, how strange; what is that; someone dangerous?

He would be perfect.

[adnunttheherald-blog]

The Wish

Adnunt wouldn’t think of simply abandoning Certa’s cause for no good reason. He knew how much it mattered to her, and how much she truly cared for those of her own race. And he knew the stakes better than any Cuniculator, besides her. 

Which was why he was admittedly anxious to find himself in the Velvet Room. Still, if the others there wished to meet with him, he’d at least give them the courtesy of hearing them out before leaving. As it was explained what was going on, Adnunt found himself very conflicted about which cause he should help. This other choice just felt like it was the right thing to do, but could he really just abandon the rebellion? The mention of a wish quickly decided that, as the deep desire of: ‘I just want to be normal’ ran through Adnunt’s head and flowed through his emotions. As much as he wanted to help out with the rebellion, he knew Certa was more than capable of handling it herself. He just hoped she could forgive him, as he signed the contract. 

Adnunt was still used to going to sleep, but waking up in a bed was unusual in its normalcy to him. He smiled a bit as he noted the lush accommodations, already glad for some semblance of normalcy. He did a brief check of his systems and was relieved to see nearly everything worked, and he could definitely work without active camouflage or technological mind control. The intrusive thought of suddenly not having his communications backpack caused him to shudder, and he quickly pushed that thought and the question of ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t be too normal’ to the back of his mind. He figured he might as well find out what he needed to do here, and meet some new people along the way. 

He decided to start with a general ping to any wireless devices in the area. His heart sank a bit as he detected Certa amongst the devices he pinged. ‘Should I tell her?’ Unfortunately, the ping already did, and after hearing the indignant response over the radio, he responded, <I just wanted to be normal... I was hoping you’d be the one to stay.> He was definitely relieved at her calmer response, but he couldn’t help but ask, <Do you forgive me?> The response was both disappointing and a bit relieving, and he was comfortable ending that conversation there. 

At least there were a bunch of cellular devices he could use his comms backpack with. 

[certacyborgleader-blog]

The Contract

Certa’s calculations for how likely her rebellion was to succeed were still at 99.9% when she came across the Velvet Room. Sure there were immense difficulties, but she was very certain that she could recoup her losses and find one way or another to overcome Contractus Incorporated, and because of this it was her foremost priority. 

Until she came upon the velvet room. She had no desire to help out with another undoubtedly massive endeavor to save the world, and thus sat through the whole speech disinterestedly. She almost left before this man even stopped talking, but the mention of one wish being granted at the end of it caught her interest. With one wish, she could boost her rebellion’s chances of success up to 100%, and Adnunt would be there to direct them in her absence. (Or so she thought.) Awakening this inner strength and helping out with this cataclysm was simply the cherry on top. And so she signed her name on the dotted line. 

Waking up was not something Certa was used to, and yet she didn’t even remember passing out. But when she awoke from her first sleep in a century, she found herself in a luxurious hotel room, which she thought was massively excessive. As she flung herself out of bed, she immediately noted her bodily cybernetics weren’t functioning as well as they were designed to, but they were around the peak of human capabilities. That was acceptable, although a quick self-test showed she lost the functionality of the majority of her other cybernetics. She was resignedly bitter about that, but figured it was bound to happen. At least her tesla projector and communications device were still working. 

Now it was a matter of aiding in the defense of this place--and finding out how. But before she could start she got a ping from a very familiar source, and frustration welled up inside of her at the realization Adnunt had come too. She reassured herself that the wish would still allow her to singlehandedly win that war, but that didn’t stop her from voicelessly snapping off at him, <Why did you come here too?> She grimaced at Adnunt’s reply, shaking her head, before grumbling, <We’re both here now. Let’s make the most of it.> She couldn’t think of a good thing to say to Adnunt’s next question, so she just told the truth. <No but I don’t hate you for it.> She was glad the conversation ended there, and set out to find out more about this situation. 

[diamondbosozoku-blog]

     Welcome to the Velvet Room.

Hell is bathed in blues and visual noise. He doesn’t think he expected that, but he won’t question the devil. It’s not something that matters, anyway, not when he’s here to face his sentence. He’s had his trial, his execution, and now it’s time whatever’s left faces what he’s done. Not just to his brother, but to that kid too--that kid who looked up to every lie he’s told.

It’s funny, though. He doesn’t feel dead. He doesn’t feel like some kind of ghost, a piece of flotsam left to face further punishment for all the crimes he’s committed. He should be dead. If he isn’t, though, what the fuck does that mean...?

This Velvet Room can’t speak, not for itself, at least, but it still feels like it whispers answers. If he was some kind of ghost, a hitodama flame, then he wouldn’t feel his weight in the chair where he now sits. If he was dead, he wouldn’t feel a table beneath his fingertips, as he considers whether to shove to his feet and make demands, because he doesn’t know what’s going on.

Someone drones on and, while he half-listens, he catches words of a request that makes him feel uncertain and indignant. He’s a beast, a monster, and these people ripped him from a death he deserved to request he plays hero, as though he deserves that redemption? If they have that power, why not save the rest trapped within that nightmare school?

These demands sit heavy on his tongue, but Mondo speaks none of them. He doesn’t think he’ll receive answers--at least, not the kind he cares to hear. Besides, their suits and contract remind him of people like Togami, so, he doesn’t expect them to care. He expects them to do what they like for their own benefit.

     Sign the contract?

     ➢ N--

It’s an answer that would have thrown him back into death where he belongs, but he snaps his mouth shut when a promise registers a second almost too late. Whoever these people are, they promise a wish and while Mondo might have scoffed at that before, this blue electric hell gives him reason to pause. If they can bring him here in the first place, then maybe they can correct an old mistake. Maybe they can make it that his brother was too slow to save him from that truck.

     Sign the contract?

     ➢ Yes

[gurabitii-old-blog]

“Until we meet again.”

She wakes and thinks she’s made a mistake.

How could she not? Even in a world full of heroes and villains and superpowers, where saving “the world” was a common happening, this is enough to cause her head to spin. As far as she knows she’s alone in this place, her classmates still safe back home – or as safe as they can be, considering the current circumstances.

Can she really be of any use here...?

But no – that’s not how a hero should think, should act.

She shakes her head, rolls out of bed, and trips over the box sitting next to it.

“Ouch.” She rubs her aching side and pushes the box away, frowning at the envelope that slides off of it. She picks it up and opens it, skimming the letter inside.

“You are in a place known as “The Cataclysm”. It is a place safe from The Shadows and it shall be your haven despite the gravity of its name. Inside of the envelope is a key which you can use to visit the Velvet Room at any time. Once you step outside, your journey beings. Good luck.

– Teagan

She flips the envelope over and shakes it until the key falls out. It’s a vivid blue, stark against the lightness of the carpet, and cold to the touch. She pockets it and stands, smoothing down her skirt and giving the box a motivated look.

She may as well open it – maybe there’ll be something useful in it, like the key from the envelope. 

After all, she’s Uraraka Ochako, hero-in-training, and heroes never give up.

[mulberryfield-blog]

There’s a prickle up his spine like pins and needles, a whisper against his ear and sensations Kazuma is more than familiar with, because he’s sensed the spiritual somethings since he was a young kid, clutching at his sister’s hand. There’s something off about this, however. Anyone could tell that, but it’s not what he sees that makes him bristle. What’s disconcerting is how he can’t feel whether there’s dangers that lurk in the corners of this Velvet Room; his perception feels fuzzy, like static over a radio.

So, frustration burrows beneath his skin and makes itself at home inside his bones, while he listens to words and stares down at fine print, a contract, a promise to do a thing, though he doesn’t fail to notice he isn’t told exactly what--not by the person who sits across from him or the sheet of paper that sits between them, pretending it’s somehow innocent. Crisis isn’t a friendly word, however. Neither is Cataclysm.

It’s defence in printed black ink that makes his fingers twitch towards the pen, however, because he assumes that means something is in danger, that there’s something on the attack, shadows that lurk and threaten something that needs help. Something like that is all he needs to decide, to pull the contract closer and shift how the pen sits in his hand. He doesn’t need a bribe.

     Sign the conratct?

     ➢ Yes

Hopefully they don’t mind Japanese script.

[koushuken-blog]

OOC ;;

tag dump | copy pasted straight from Persona Cataclysm’s Taglist

#PCRP Open: A tag for in-character, multi-paragraph open posts.

#PCRP Mini: Short-format open posts (2 small paragraphs or less) can go in this tag.

#PCRP Intro: A tag for introductory opens or drabbles from new characters in the group.

#PCRP Drabble: Use this for closed one-shot in-character posts or short stories.

#PCRP Social Link: The tag through which character upgrades are submitted.

#PCRP Memes: The tag for “Meme Saturday” posts.

#PCRP OOC: Out-of-character posts related to the group.

#PCRP Event: Posts relating to any ongoing major events.

(just ignore me while I get my blog together)

[adarknessawaits-blog]

hello everyone!

i guess it’s time for my own little introduction! my name is patrick and i am your terra! i’m currently 19 (will be 20 in about 2 months). this isn’t my first time rping this giant teddy bear of a man, i’m happy to be rping one of my favourite characters once again! anyway, in regards to threads, i do love to plot things out, so if you’re ever interested in starting a thread with bara dad terra, you can always shoot me a message here or you can hmu on my twitter, ultimacannon!

so in case you guys don’t know much about terra, he’s roughly 32 years of age, but looks like he’s about 20. he is a keyblade wielder who was set to become a master along with his friend aqua, but failed to do so bc darkness because his master is a lightfucker. basically around 12 years prior to his current canon point, he mcfucked up badly which lead to his body being possessed by an old bald man obsessed with darkness for a while, now he just wants to be with his friends, let giant teddy bear man be happy

[wayfoundwarrior-blog]

hello everyone!

my name is shannon and i’m your resident aqua rper! you may know me from rping her elsewhere, but if you don’t, it’s nice to meet you! i’m 23 years old and a graduate student so i tend to be a little busy and slow on replies, just so you guys know.

i’m also horribly bad at starters and it’s because of this that i really prefer to plot super generally before starting a thread, just so we can get a general direction of where it’s gonna go! spontaneous stuff is also okay, but in my rp career it makes me sad when threads just kind of go nowhere bc something was started w/ no idea of where it should go/limited knowledge about the other character involved. so feel free to shoot me a message on here OR message me at my twitter, lightblooms. i can also give you my skype if you ask me for it! you have to say who you are when you add me tho, or i will think you’re a spambot, and that’s sad.

for those who dont know anything about kingdom hearts, well, im very sorry bc its hard to explain, but aqua’s likely in her early 30s but she looks to be around 20 because of weird time passing shenanigans. she’s the successor of the land of departure and is a keyblade master, meaning whenever they pull her out of the hell dimension, she will be head honcho of the sacred ground for keybearers. she doesnt give much thought to that tho, she’s just lookin for her friends terra and ven. she misses them. she hasnt seen them in 12 years. she also hasnt seen the sun in 12 years.

be nice to her.