Reference RPG Introduction Service v2.0

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As walk down a side street in New York City you see a dark figure in front of you with pointed fangs gleaming in the night. You turn and see yet another and wonder if it is going to be the last night you see. You realize, almost in split second, that there is a dirty little secret that no one tells you, vampires and monsters exist. Fear clouds your judgment, you find it hard to move, and everything slows to crawl. Someone else appears almost as if by divine intervention, and attacks one of the vampires. You realize that heroes exist that they don?t tell you about either.
Which side will you choose?

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Slayers, Vampires, and other Monsters: The Rise of Darkness

BE AFRAID OF THE DARK
Coming Summer 2012

 

Infiltrate.

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Investigate.

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Educate.

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L U C I D I T Y

Term begins /Operations commence after the move...

 

1890

Whoever had named Brimstone had thought it an auspicious name for a burgeoning town.

They hadn't taken into consideration the eventual pilgrimage of a criminal element, for instance, or even the forges that would spring up and run the town's economy. They hadn't thought of the preachers who would spew forth the merits of morality backed with a fear of hellfire and its cousin, brimstone. They hadn't thought too much of the scorching Californian sun, either.

Ill-named as it was, though, Brimstone became a mecca for all sorts of people seeking the road less traveled, or just a road where one kept to one's own business, thank you very much and good day. These things, in the end, mattered little; Brimstone burned a spot all its own on the map and a place in history.

And it was here he would make his mark.

---

The sun beat down steadily in this land. He wasn't entirely sure if he liked that; London, after all, had been dreary and filled with grime and fog most days, and smoke from the chimneys when the fog actually cleared. He'd liked that, the anonymity, the seclusion it had offered him.

The privacy for his work.

He'd had to do away with many of his previous affectations with the blades. America was the land of the gun! The land of freedom, of opportunity!

The land of [i]steam[/i].

He felt like laughing as he thought that. The Empire had worked so hard at industrializing, only to be outstripped in a few short decades by American ingenuity. Who could have predicted that? Certainly not the English, but nor could the Americans. The land was being tamed by the great steam-powered engines and automatons of man, but there was much to be done.

For one, he was here.

The gun at his hip felt alien. He missed the cold steel of a good knife, but that would come, in time. In this land you could kill from a distance, and often. Much less mystery. That excited him.

California was waiting for someone like him. It needed someone to turn it on its head, to show just how barbarous the land truly was beneath that wild beauty.

He smiled again and began to hum.

This was where he'd paint his [i]masterpiece[/i].

[hr]
[b]S T E A M[/b]

 

"People think it's an obsession. A compulsion. It's never been like that. I chose this life. On any given day, I could stop."​

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"Today isn't that day."​

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---

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"When the mob and the press and the whole world tells you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth and tell the world: "​

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"No. You move."​

---

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"We can make the world a better place for everybody. Without the guns."​

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"D'you think we can stop bastards like us telling everybody how to live their lives - without killing them?"​

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"You just gotta make friends with 'em. Make friends with 'em until they beg for mercy."​

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---

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"On its own, humanity is a destructive force..."​

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"...it needs a master."​

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---

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"Here the choice is simple. To remain at play within the field of living, fluid consciousness."​

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"Or to turn and face down evil one last time."​

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---

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It was time of change.


It was a time of victory.

It was time of defeat.


It most importantly was a time of darkness and uncertainty.

The Slayers: Darkness Chronicles

 

Never mind.

 

A Ballad​

​

William "Bill" Savoy stirred slightly beneath the sheets that covered him. They weren't his sheets, and this wasn't his bed, but those were ultimately just details, and Bill wasn't much of a details guy, so long as he had a place to sleep. Still, it hadn't seemed like it had been all that long, no way the sun was up, so what the hell was that light?​

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… Oh.​

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"Hello Bill."​

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"Hello yourself, Mitch. Didn't expect to see you around here."​

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"Yes, I reckoned as much. You don't often expect to see the lawman when you're trying to flee across the border. There is sort of a general procedure to this affair."​

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Bill chuckled, groped around on his nightstand for a bottle of whiskey, grasped firmly, and put the bottle to his lips. "Reckon so." He took a swig, and offered the bottle to Mitch.​

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"No thanks Bill, I don't drink on the job. Seems unprofessional."​

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"Your loss." Bill took another swig. "You, ah, gonna keep that gun lying across your lap while we're chatting all friendly like?"​

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"General procedures."​

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"Ah yes." Bill took a third swig, replaced the bottle on his nightstand, and rubbed his mouth on the sleeve of his long johns. "So… you taking me in?"​

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"That's the idea."​

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"Think I can get away with a prison sentence?"​

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"Don't think so, Bill. You don't pull the sort of things you pulled and get a prison sentence. Judge Winthrop will see you hanged."​

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"Reckon so," Bill sighed, sitting up further. His left hand reached a bit further under the covers. "Suppose I were to-"​

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"I wouldn't." Mitchell gestured to the other side of the room.​

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"You're a right son of a bitch, Michell Glass."​

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"You gonna come quietly, Bill, or are we going to have to make a scene?"​

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"You know what the answer to that is."​

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Mitch smirked. "You know how this is going to end."​

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"Yeah," Bill grinned. "Guess I really ****ed up this time, huh?"​

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"Reckon so."​

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Run, Man, Run​

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An Outlaw RPG​

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Christmas 2012​

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"Now clean this mess up."​

 

1872...​

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Somewhere in Texas...​

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The Prisoner awoke with the sun in his eyes and a sharp pain in his head. His body was moist with sweat and blood. His arms were tied behind him around the wooden post of a porch, which his feeble back rested against. His feet were roped together also, his legs straight out in front of him. His long brown hair was ragged and disheveled, some sticking to his face from the perspiration.

The Captor sat in the lone rocking chair on the porch, black hat lowered over his brow, the rest of his attire matching in color. He was slowly rocking, back and forth, the creaking sound of the chair the only audible noise in the air aside from the occasional gust of wind. He wore a black patch over his left eye, his right half-closed but focused steadily on the man who'd just awoken. He didn't speak a word. Only stared.

"You the one," the Prisoner began to speak but winced in pain, moved his body around until he found the least uncomfortable position possible. He leaned his head back on the post. "You the one, killed my friends."

The Captor's eyes didn't flinch, nor did his lips. His spurred black boots tilted back and forth like clockwork, the rocking chair doing what it did. His hands rested in his lap, fingers clutched around a revolver.

The Prisoner sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them again and looked around. The two men were on the porch of an old cabin, far from town. The smell of blood and manure filled the air. A saddled brown horse stood tied to a post in front of the porch, and drank from a bucket of water placed before it. A dead body lay just beyond it. Beyond that was not much else. Sand stretched on as far as a pair of tired eyes could see.

"You ain't got no qualms about killin'." The Prisoner's face itched from the stubble and sweat upon it. "Killin' folks, ain't even wanted. So why ain't ya killed me yet? Huh? I'm the one you're here for, and they don't want me alive."

The only response the Captor gave was simply to continue as if he'd heard nothing. But he no longer stared at his companion. He leaned his head back on the top of the chair and closed his eyes, one shielded by the patch, the other by his lowered hat. The creaking of the rocking chair groaned on.

Several minutes later the ominous sound of a buzzing fly reached the Prisoner's ears. The insect landed on the man's forehead between the parting of his hair. The Prisoner looked up with his eyes, as far as they could go. Of course he couldn't see the little thing, but he felt it. Resting there in the moisture of his forehead before it took off again. He raised and lowered his eyebrows until it left. Undaunted, the fly buzzed around his head for a few quick seconds before it came to land on his cheek. It moved a bit, closer to the corner of his mouth. And such was the routine.

Time passed on.

"Well?" The sun was beginning to show signs of setting. Orange had crept its way into the sky. "How much longer you gonna keep me here, friend?"

The usual response.

"Think I could get some of that there water your horse ain't partakin' in?"

Nothing.

The Prisoner began to cough, then caught his breath and closed his eyes with a sigh, adjusting his body once again. He looked at the Captor, and he looked at the Captor's hands, and he looked at the revolver resting silently underneath.

"What kinda bullets ya got in there?" There was an ever so faint hint of a smile on the Prisoner's face as he spoke the words. "Best hope the right kind, I reckon. Wonder how one might come across such ammunition."

The Captor opened his eye and stared at his hostage once again, but he didn't move his head from its rested position. A few minutes later, his eye was back to being closed.

And so the two men sat, and the horse stood.

Time passed on.

The sun began to sink, giving way to the moon.

The full moon.

The Captor stopped rocking. His eye was open now, and he pushed his hat up right on his head. He leaned forward in the chair, set his arm on his knee and pointed the revolver directly at the Prisoner who'd just awoken from another nap.

The Prisoner looked at him, and then at the horizon. The sun was now hidden away, tucked behind the earth. The full moon shone bright. "Well," he said, adjusting himself upright against the post. "Guess it's about that time." He spat off to the side. He closed his eyes.

The Captor's grip around the revolver tightened. A sound came from the Prisoner's stomach, like it was churning something fierce. The Prisoner's eyes opened, and what were once unassuming brown eyes were replaced by glowing yellow irises with vertical black slits in the middle. No longer human. Thick black fur began to sprout from the man's arms, and he began to growl softly. His mouth opened, revealing teeth that were growing. Sharper.

The Captor pulled the trigger, and the thundering sound echoed in the night for miles. In a blur of silver, the bullet went straight through the Prisoner's head, and whatever it was, or whatever it was becoming, was dead. Thick red blood oozed out onto the porch. The moon would receive no cries tonight.

The Captor stood.

It was time to collect the bounty on this werewolf.

---

Black Moon Gulch: A Supernatural Western​

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Arriving soon.​

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The Distant Future​

​

"Remind me: why are we here again?" Baker muttered, his hands fidgeting on his mech's controls. He always felt a little claustrophobic inside the cockpit, and it had literally been an hour since anyone had said anything. It was enough to drive the most hardened veteran off their rocker, and Baker was a greenhorn.​

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"Because as far as I can tell, it's to keep staring at a grey box and hope something comes out of it."​

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"That's a gross misreading of the situation, Dave," replied Smith, who had quite a bit more feel experience than the newbie. "We're staring at three grey boxes controlled by the United Earth Federation and hoping something comes out of any of them."​

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"Cut the chatter, you two," snapped Groebnick. "You don't know who might be listening in."​

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"Respectfully, Lieutenant, we're in the vicinity of Absolutely Bloody Nowhere, Side One, and we're in space to boot. Minovsky particle interference is thicker than pea soup - hell, I'm pretty sure the only reason we can even hear each other is the tethering cable." In his mind's eye, Baker could practically see Lt. Groebnick's brow furrowing as Smith continued to mouth off. It was almost impressive how much smack talk the latter could usually manner, given the rather infamously short temper of the former.​

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"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Sergeant. Now shut the hell up and keep your eyes on your-"​

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"L-Lieutenant?" Out of the corner of his eyes, Baker saw a glimmer of movement. "I think I've got a visual!"​

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"Good eye, Baker. Smith, coordinate visuals with Baker's unit. Your camera's been retrofit-"​

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"Yeah, yeah, I've got the scope, I'm on it, cripes." There was a takking sound over the comm as Smith punched commands into his onboard computer. "Roger that visual, Lieutenant. That's definitely a transport coming out of the left structure."​

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"Size estimate?"​

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"20, maybe 25 meters. Seems to be hauling something big."​

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"Ship parts, maybe?" Baker chimed in.​

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"No, the look is all wrong. I'll patch this into your feed, Lieutenant, any opinions?"​

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Static.​

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"Lieutenant?"​

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More static.​

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"Lieutenant this isn't fu- wait, what th"​

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"S-… Sgt. Smith? … H-Harry?"​

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Static.​

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Baker could feel the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand on end. Forcing himself to stop trembling, he grabbed his controls and maneuvered the Zaku's head camera.​

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Just in time to glimpse the face of his killer.​

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But that was impossible! The Federation didn't ha​

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ONE YEAR WAR​

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"Enemy units engaged and eliminated. Returning to base."​

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Coming in May, 2013​

 

I'm in.

 

...so...very tempting. Darn it Ramza

 

Darkseid says GIVE IN.

 

The Swamps of Dagobah​

"Your weapons. You will not need them."​

​

"Um... what?"​

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"This place. It's... a dark maw in the Force. Your lightsaber isn't going to be of much use. And it seemed an appropriate thing to say."​

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"With all due respect, Master, it's a cave. On a swamp planet. I haven't needed my lightsaber for the entirety of this expedition."​

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"So you understand my point."​

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Deciding he had lost the argument, the Padawan removed his equipment.​

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"I'll be waiting for you right at the entrance. If you need anything, scream."​

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"... You mean shout."​

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"No, you'll scream."​

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Deciding that he had had quite enough of cryptic half-answers, the Padawan entered the cave.​

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It was certainly a cave, that much wasn't up for debate. Dark, cool, smelling vaguely of slime and water. As caves went it could almost pass for pleasant.​

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But then it wasn't a cave anymore.​

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Instead, the Padawan found himself in a hallway hewn in cobblestone. Every ten or so feet a lit brazier hung from the ceiling, but it was otherwise unadorned.​

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Deciding that he had been warned about this sort of vision, the Padawan continued down the hallway for what seemed like hours.​

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Finally, further down the corridor, he saw a human.​

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The human was somewhat unremarkable - tall, pale, lithe, long blonde hair, dark clothes. But looking at him made the Padawan feel vaguely ill at ease.​

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Deciding that this was also a part of the vision, the Padawan continued down the hallway.​

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The human spoke. His voice was thin and seemed to come from everywhere but his mouth.​

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"Hello. I haven't seen you before... or have I?"​

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The Padawan tried to speak, but found that he could not.​

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"You're a bit early, aren't you? It's not yet time."​

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The Padawan found himself, rather inexplicably, growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment. He attempted to take a step backwards.​

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But his legs were sinking into the floor.​

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No, that wasn't quite right. He was dissolving into the floor.​

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"Still, I can give you a bit of a teaser, if you're so tremendously keen to see what's in store."​

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The man strolled forward and placed his right hand on the Padawan's forehead. His touch burned cold.​

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Visions rushed into the Padawan's mind. Horrible. Apocalyptic. Perplexing​

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Deciding that he needed his master, the Padawan opened his mouth to scream.​

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And no sound came.​

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Star Wars​

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Prophecies of the Dark Side​

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Next week: Live other lives, long past...

but not forgotten.​

 

It was the 18th of June in the year 2013 when he realised that this was the end. Chris had no more characters and no more games to play in. The last anchor holding him in this wonderful world of imagination and entertainment had vanished in the harsh sea of reality. New games were rare this season and life had changed. Responsibility and yes ... a certain amount of success were welcome. They also demanded a price, paid in the precious currency of life. Time.

There was no time to really play anything anymore. Hell, even the semi-autobiographic teaser for his final game he wrote on his iPhone. Soon this would be a treasured memory. Soon he would be a forgotten rumor. A thing of the past.

While Chris was alive and healthy, he realized that his alter-ego Fin was ... to phrase it in the most dramatic way ... dying.

So what was left to do?

One thing.

There was a last and final story to tell.

There were friends to say goodbye to.

There were memories to celebrate before vanishing for a final time.

It was time for ...
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T H E
F A R E W E L L
R I D E


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coming soon ... to the RPF

 

Intervention: Echoes in Eternity has opened it's doors for gaming! Come check us out!

 

LFM!



Interested in playing in a world with werewolves? Want to try your might against packs of hungry, monstrous beasts? Think you can survive a war torn New York City before the next Blood Moon? Can you protect a priest from the evil machinations of a werewolf pack leader? Can you survive?

Then sign up for Blood Moon: Rise of the Lycans if you think you can! I promise you'll have a howling good time!

 

{Brief static}​

​

H-hello?​

Can anybody hear me?​

Please. . .please, if you can hear me. . .​

{soft sobs}​

Answer me.​

I’m alone, please. . .just answer.​

They got Momma and Lucy and. . .dear god please someone answer me! I know someone is out there. . .​

{Only static answers}​

Wait. . .I think I can hear. . .oh god. . .​

{Moaning, followed by brief crashes}​

Answer me please. . .I’m in the barn, just. . .somebody please. . .​

{Crying, with a quiet prayer}​

Lord. . .Heavenly Father. . .bless my soul, and-and. . .welcome it into your kingdom. . .​

{Wood snapping}​

Please father, accept me for my sins and-​

{Shattering door, loud moaning}​

Help me!​

{Continuous screaming}​

​

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END OF RECORDING​

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F E E D​

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Coming very soon, to an RPF near you. . .​

 

It is the year 1715 AD. ​

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The Americas have been colonized.​

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It is a new era of opportunity. Trade and industry are bountiful in the West Indies, with European powers heavily invested. The conflicts and wars of the continent spill over to the New World, and so more often than not, the Caribbean is home to skirmishes and tense standoffs between navies. ​

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More common are the privateers, ships with letters of marque granting them authorization to attack foreign vessels. Their actions are condemned all too often as barbaric.​

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In these chaotic times, an old term gains new significance: pirate.​

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The desperate, the ambitious, the greedy, the bloodthirsty, the downtrodden, the restless, these are the folk who become pirates. Those who would be free of kings and countries flock to the seas to take what they please. This is the Golden Age of Piracy.​

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This is their New World, their opportunity - their land of do-what-you-like. ​

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In this land free of kings, the only law is what men make for themselves. ​

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THE GOLDEN AGE​

 

Somewhere in Eastern Europe

"You know..."

"Oh for God's sake, what now?"

"Look, I know I'm still relatively new to this, but all I'm trying to say is that when I joined the 'Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense,' I was not anticipating such a massive commitment to the concept of navigating cobblestone tunnels."



"C'mon, this is almost certainly some kind of slate."

"It's another freaking tunnel in any case."

"No, it's not 'another tunnel,' it's the tunnel. 400 years ago this thing was hand-crafted by occultists to carry sacrifices to the local ensemble of strigoi. This tunnel was of tremendous significance to the local community."

"No, see, this is why I'm sick of tunnels - you know what you find in tunnels? Vampires. Maybe a revenant if you're lucky. You know what you don't find in tunnels? Anything even remotely interesting. Just once I want a werewolf. I feel like I carry these silver bullets for nothing."

"Werewolves aren't actually extra-vulnerable to silver bullets."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you can pretty much just stab them. The silver bullets are issued for bean-sídhe, actually."

"I thought banshee were ghosts."

"They are."

"How do you kill a ghost?"

"Careful aim."

"Forget I asked. ... What's up with that light?"

"Search party. Probably looking for us."

„Eindringlinge!“



"Vampire Nazis. Psh."

"I hate vampire Nazis."










Next Week in the RPF:

Tunnels.

Nazis.

Vampires.

Possibly some banshee.​

 

Are you looking for a fledgling RP with potential? An RP that you can watch grow and change? Something with Star Wars heart and a blank slate?

Look no farther than Fire Across the Galaxy, a rebellion age RP set between ROTS and ANH.

Set in a time of chaos across the galaxy you can join our small group as it does... something. Something rebel-y. And probably fun. We're still working out the details.

We feature a small but growing group of tested roleplayers eager to welcome both experienced and totally new players. It would be a great place to start your RP experience, I personally promise to mentor anyone who needs it. Cross my heart.

So, what are you waiting for, stop by and talk to us!

Things You Could Be in Fire Across the Galaxy​

An escaped Jedi on the run.​

A rebel leader​

A hacker​

An Imperial spy (Come on, double cross us)​

A sharpshooter​

An assassin​

Criminal scum​

An orphaned billionaire dedicated to bringing justice by dressing up as a spacebat ​

A doctor on the run with his traumatized, psychic baby sister​

​

And Many More!​

 

(new player)
Hello, I am fan of the star wars and the RPG games that follow suit, if anyone has space in there for a new player I would be more then happy to join!
(However I already found out I am not experienced enough for for the GOL game, so if you require the same level of experience or greater I am likely not a good enough gamer for your game and have no desire mess up good games..)

 

Hi Troy Dominice

Welcome to the Boards.

Our game, Intervention: Echoes of Eternity, is temporarily closed as the GM is between laptops right now, but when we are back in action, you are welcome to submit a character sheet.

 

Posted on request of SirakRomar:​

2.000 years ago a battle raged over the planet Sulon. It was a battle not between Jedi and Sith but between two Jedi.

920 years ago a curious scientist lead it’s team on a doomed mission to an unknown planet.

14 years ago a scientist was forced into service by the Emperor to research the possibility of eternal life through the force.

7 days ago a Senatorial aid thought she made a deal with the devil to save her family.
6 days ago a young slicer helped with a heist for the most notorious crime lord of the sector and lost her best friend. Soon afterwards a group of Mandalorians were ordered to find and kill her.
5 days ago a father decided to bring his son along for a glorious hunt to compensate for his failing mental abilities.
4 days ago a hero of the rebellion had to organise a new transport after a mission gone wrong.
3 days ago a group of Imperials booked the largest storage container on a civilian flight to transport a project so secret even the Empire could not know about it.

2 days ago the freighter Lisander crashed on an unknown planet in the Outer Rim.

1 day ago half of the survivors of the Lisander were already dead.

1 hour ago the chain of events lead to another series of deaths on the planet.

… and it stirred an ancient evil from it’s centuries of sleep.




5 minutes ago a courier ship responded to an emergency call to a planet that was on none of their maps. Their engines failed the moment they entered the orbit.




And all these event lead to a group of survivors trapped in a deadly game of deception and betrayal on a mysterious planet. IT has waited for them for a very long time. IT will not let them go.







SEASON 2

Coming to the boards on 15th of April 2015

 

Sounds intriguing, Fins.