yoteborg

Do you know what it's like to live in constant fear? To have your every step dictated by the shadows of your own imagination? There are demons that haunt me, monsters that lurk in the recesses of my mind, and they all take the form of pixels and lines of code. Roleplay servers are morally abhorrent.

@Fizzlestat Totally needs to be a full mod sometime. Handles a lot of the basic reports and is the backbone of orderly late night RP.

Name: vigilantejourno Comment: God, who knew we had such depraved minds in modern day LS? Lock her up and throw away the key.

SIM HOMELESS "LIVING ON THE STREETS IS TOUGH... BUT IT'S ABOUT TO GET TOUGHER!" The drugs numbed the pain. Funnily enough, this wasn't the first beatdown he had gotten tonight. But this one felt particularly humiliating. He looked up at the sky in a haze, seeing various little beady eyes and flashes of smartphones taking pictures of him in this compromising position. Then there was ponytail. Smirking down at his victory. After a minute or two, he was helped up by a strange-looking man, wearing a mask. Graciously, he accepted the wad of bills offered to him after the fight. Yet also bundled in the man's hand, given to Guy was a small glint of metal. All he had to do, was make a pretty damn good enticement. Guy grabbed the bills he had collected from panhandling, and stuffed them into his coat before heading for the gas station. Ponytail was gonna pay. The high was starting its slow burn of a decline, yet he still had some bravado. Everything went by in a flash once the men stepped out the door. He feigned fear, sprinting directly towards the back of the gas station. Chased down the alley by two men, his pursuers were stopped by a machete's blade. There was much blood, and the next thing he knew shots were fired off. The sting of lead pierces his arm, hitting something /good/. How he found the masked man, he didn't know. But he wasted no time hopping on his bike. They arrived with seconds to spare at the nearby hospital, Guy being dragged into the building with critical injuries. The next few hours were just as much of a haze as the heroin- hell. He was probably being given some opiate. All he knew was that it felt good. It felt good to finally take a stand.

I actually heard this server compared to DayZRP in the statement that "mods are much more anal on here if you think this is bad". Their words, not mine.

I really don't think it matters, personally I believe people should be able to speak their mind without explicit consequences. So what if an admin needs to take an extra minute to look through the posts. Matters more than telling people they can or can't do something.

Stopped at "start being more strict". We don't need more censorship.

Kindly Stop for Me Two weeks later.

Courtesy of the Balkan Diaspora So this is what he had devolved into. A killer. Some rent-a-clown that could be hired for pennies on the dollar, and a thief. Well that's what he had grown accustomed to, and this is America. Capitalism is a hell of a drug. As he lowered his gun, looking over the man's lifeless body, he could feel nothing other than a brief adrenaline rush. A quick search through his pockets wielded only a blood-soaked pack of cigarettes and a small bottle of water. Waste of a life, and a robbery. As the mostly empty area provided him solace to do the deed, Aerin quickly hauled the body to the thing's old car. Panic took hold fifteen minutes later, in an undisclosed location. He had gotten word that a compatriot had been shot. Since the clock to the head, it took him a little to remember his place. Who he was. His certain obligations. He phoned up the first person he trusted that would be able to help. The Cleaner arrived soon after, to fix his mistakes. Courtesy of the Balkan Diaspora. He was a middle aged man, no more distinct than the average Sandy local anyone would see on the street. Aerin's heart raced as the man's truck pulled up loaded with various equipment. The Cleaner gave him a short nod. With a hasty introduction, the man was soon introduced to what remained of Niljan, in the trunk. His body was shot to pieces, having exsanguinated heavily as bits of brain matter stained the corpse's trunk. He sighed and quickly wrapped the body up with tape, letting Aerin tie its legs together with a sailor's knot of rope. It would serve to keep the body nailed down to the ocean floor, Neptune's own natural weights holding it down to decompose him in the salty waters. So it was done. The first problem he had to take care of. Oddly enough Aerin couldn't feel a thing as he lobbed the corpse into the water with the help of the Cleaner. He just figured it as one more obstacle, a mistake that couldn't be found out by anyone. A bullet to the brain was better than leaving him to bleed out and die on the floor, right? He argued with himself before the illusive man turned to him, asking only a favor from his superiors in time. With no cash to pay for the job, Aerin had to agree. Getting rid of the dead guy's car would be a first. Removing the dark blood that coated his gloved hands second. And finding the bastards that shot his compatriot and left her for dead in the cold water of the Pacific, would be the cherry on top of the cake.

Username: zackityheadquartersComment: habibi means beautiful :)

username: athensurep comment: Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Waking up from the American Dream (cont.) Despite the medical assistance he had received, he was still out cold for the next two days. His friends would occasionally check in on him to give him water and tend to his stitches. Most of his time was spent unconscious and dreaming. Aerin tended to have unsettling nightmares, but the combination of psychedelics mushrooms he had taken prior to the attack coupled with the violent head wound twisted them. In his brief otherworldly life, the sky had a sickly red hue, and the sun never showed its head. Before he knew it, he was in a position he'd remembered all too well from his waking hours. Sending a knife repeatedly into the gut of an enemy- manifesting his rage into killing the victim. Before he knew it he was finished with the job, only to be horrified as he slowly turned them around in that darkened room. It was his closest buddy, eyes glossy and unmoving as Aerin looked down at his hands, hazily realizing what he had done. Lying there unconscious on the run-down couch, he couldn't tell how long he had stayed in the darkness of his mind. The distortion of time made it feel incredibly long, while at the same moment there was no sense of the present in Aerin's mind. There only existed the next dream his psyche fed him like a spoiled slice of raw meat. Slowly, the picture came into focus. The feeling was odd, like he was hovering without having to stand. However he was frozen in place, made to watch the gruesome scene play out in front of him. The madhouse slowly faded from his vision, but the screams were still violently loud. That's when he jolted up for real, unable to tell if he was in reality. All he knew was that his brain felt like it had been pounding against his skull. After a quick exploratory, but painful probe to the back of his head with a finger he could tell it had been sutured shut. The burn on the back of his head only brought him closer to reality, as the gash had become infected. In his mind those horrors still played. clear as day. With a quick glance back to the armrest he laid on, it was clear Aerin had bled out rather heavily but padding and stitching by the other two most likely saved him. Rubbing his face in pure exhaustion he sighed and closed his eyes. He could still hear the sirens wailing from the dreams. Reminding him of his mock-fate. Being shot to pieces by the law. And his own body laying on a table in the city's morgue. Snagging a quick nip from the flask in his nearby belongings, he managed to drag himself out of the small garage and out into the day's light, wincing as his eyes got adjusted to the sun eventually. He'd get through it. He always did, or so he thought. The liquor's burn traveling down his throat gave Aerin the pick-me-up he needed and soon after the kid forced himself to drag his ass to his Hexer, revving up the engine and hoping to God he wouldn't fall. Los Santos didn't wait for anybody, much less the sick or the dead.

I appreciate the support and tips, never done a character story before and any help is useful. Gonna try my hand at LSRP.

The blood gushed from his crown. Talking back to a guy with much more strength and a crew behind him, that was the smart thing to have done. Luckily, after an intense skirmish his only close friends came to his aid as he was knocked unconscious in the back of the head by the brutal strike of maglight, cutting open the flesh off from his scalp, skull nearly visible through the sanguine red tint that marked his head. The next few hours were spent in a haze, the kid plagued by nightmares as his body fought to break itself from the deep sleep it was put under as a result from the fight. Hasty stitching and quick action saved him, but the consequences would be long-lasting to come.

Waking up from the American Dream A Liberty City boy with heavy Greek admixture, Aerin has only done his best to survive the harsh reality he faces. After a good few weeks in Los Santos, he begins to realize that life in the city isn't all it was cracked up to be, back East. These are his misadventures through his life- however short it may be. His desperate attempt to make a living for himself in the city often leads to more than he could have expected, however his troublemaking personality tends to wean him into situations. He could barely remember himself, and the faces that he strove to ingrain into his memory that were now long gone. It started a while before, but the most recent event he could recall with the most clarity was the attack at the gas station. A simple mistake that could have been solved with an apology turned into a grim murder and a bout which Aerin would not forget. The two thugs waited for him outside of the shop until growing tired and tried to coax him into a vulnerable position. A fight soon broke out. The flurry of punches and stabs were quick in succession from both sides of the aisle, until it spilled out onto the street outside in a loud tussle.