forum I need a violent RP, preferably with morally grey characters and lots of darknessssssss // OPEN //

Started June 14, 2021 by @Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

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I mean… the title says it all. I'm craving a dark-ish RP. Maybe something dystopian or in a world without any solid government at all. I don't know. Thoughts?

This looks mighty intriguing,, I have a morally grey character who tends to lean towards violence. May I join?

Yes, welcome! :) Morally grey characters leaning towards violence are always fun, so I'd be happy to have you.

Yess, and sweet! Thanks! My favorite genre to write in is historical fantasy-ish but I’m game for anything. Do you have any plot ideas?

Not specifically, but I can come up with some if need be. If you want to do something historical fantasy-ish with dystopian or darker vibes, I'm down. I've never done a historical fantasy but I feel like it could be interesting.

Alright! That vibe sounds really neat. I’m thinking maybe late 1800s/early 1900s in the city, and the atmosphere can be really dark and rainy? Like black tailcoats and hoods and horse hooves sloshing mud over the streets.
As for plot…maybe our characters could be in rival gangs?

OHOHOHOH yes please.

And I frickin' love rival gangs so also please.

Aaaa perfect, I’m so hyped.
Their relationship, should it be enemies to friends and/or lovers? Or just stay enemies? I feel like any option would be a lot of fun.

I think we should start as enemies and just see whatever happens naturally. If they start to slowly develop a friendship and even feelings for one another, then yesss, and if their hatred just boils and intensifies, then also yesss.

Yess, that works for me! Are we doing character templates or just developing as we go?

Up to you! I work well either way.

Oke! I’ve already got a pretty good idea for a character so I’m ready to start when you are.

Alright, sweet. Do you think you could slap down a starter for us? ^-^

Sure! I’ll get one posted within the next few hours ^^

(My typical responses are a little shorter than this, it’s just a bit longer for the starter)

Johan liked to think he ruled the city of Stiport, and in his own fantastical delusions, he did. He liked the fear he could spark in his subordinates’ eyes by flashing one of his knives at them. Even going as far as to press the blade against their throat.

Johan liked the wealth. Sitting in a luxurious tavern at the head of a round table with his foot perched on one knee, smoking a pipe with a taste that made him gag; he liked the elegance.
Barely twenty, it was a wonder to most how a practical teenager could build up a criminal organization ruling half the city, and one worth an impressive small fortune at that.

The boy was clad in a dark tailcoat slightly too big for him in the shoulders, and an untied scarf hanging from under his collar. One hand ran through his sable hair—cut in a short, fashionable style—and another well-manicured hand rapping impatiently against the tabletop.

He and his two closest friends, sitting on either side of him, had come to meet with a small number of their rival gang to settle a recent dispute over territory in the center of the city. Civilly. Or at the very least, without much violence in the process.

(Excellent.)

Peter Claude never hurried to get anywhere, and today was no exception.

"We're already late to the meeting," commented one of the three men accompanying him.

"Yes," Peter replied, casting a lazy glance towards the cloud-filled sky. Raindrops pelted the brim of his hat and the lower portion of his face. "But it never hurt anyone to wait a few minutes, now did it? We'll be there." He tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his long trench coat and continued his leisurely pace, never once bothering to speed up as he made his way to the tavern.

The scent of smoking-pipes and alcohol met him as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his men following. Peter lifted his fedora, slicking back his shaggy dirty-blond curls as he scanned the patrons for his rival. His eyes landed on Johan; he pulled his hat back down over his head and sauntered over to the table.

"I apologize for the late arrival," Peter commented as he approached, though his tone showed no real regret whatsoever. "Bad weather and all, you know." He tugged out the chair across from Johan and dropped down into it, motioning for one of his men to sit beside him. The other two hesitated only a few seconds before taking seats at a separate table some meters away.

Peter was a tall, wiry fellow, and although his clothes were nice, his overall appearance had an air of chaos about it. Untucked here, a some odd wrinkles there— he often looked as if he'd just emerged from some skirmish and only halfway bothered to put himself back together. His trench coat, long and black, was unbuttoned, and beneath it he wore an expensive vest— but the collar was a bit messed up, and the small scarf he wore looked ratty and worn in comparison to his otherwise elegant appearance. His dark blond curls, which he often attempted to slick back beneath a black fedora or tophat, curled around the nape of his neck and ears, frizzier than normal from the humidity.

Johan lazily watched Peter enter the tavern and take a seat in front of him. His knuckles rapping at a constant pace on the table finally stopped, leaving the small group in a few seconds of silence until Johan’s chair made a low creak as he shifted in it. “Mhm.” He took the pipe out of his mouth and placed his hand with it on the table. Leaning back casually, he looked Peter up and down. “Looking disheveled as ever, Claude.”

One of the men—a ginger with black suspenders and a taupe trench coat hanging over his chair—sitting beside Johan took a slow sip of his drink. He looked over his glass at the two others who had taken a seat at another table, suspicious.

“It’s nice to see my rival is taking this meeting as seriously as I am,” Johan continued. It wasn’t clear whether he was speaking in sarcasm or not. Either way his tone was edged with spite. His voice had rarely ever been anything but tenor and malicious. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

Peter barked out a short laugh, a wide grin splitting his face. He leaned back in his chair and intertwined his long fingers together on the table in front of him. "Disheveled? I prefer endearingly unkempt." Unlike Johan, Peter sounded casual— so casual, in fact, that anyone who didn't know that he and Johan were rivals would've thought he was simply having an afternoon chat with an old friend. The only thing to imply any enmity between them on Peter's part was that occasional look in his eye, one that was detected more by a gut feeling or intuition than an obvious tell— a look of seething hatred, somewhere deep under the surface, hidden beneath the rather convincing act of a laid-back fellow without a care in the world. The look was not always evident, but every once in awhile, if one paid enough attention, they could catch a glimpse of it.

"Ah, it's my pleasure, really. It's not every day I get to meet with someone else of such high status." Not an ounce of malice stained his voice, making it impossible to tell whether he meant that mockingly or not. He cast a quick but relaxed glance around the room before his gaze rested on Johan. "But seeing as you are a man of such high status, I'm sure you have other things to do, yes? I know I surely do. It's a busy gig, this one. So let's get right down to business, shall we?"