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"Oh, oh! Do tell! Do tell how the world must be falling, brother!"
"Oh, but sister, it's such a long story. I fear you'll forget the beginning by the time I tell you the end."
"Please, brother. Please! Tell me! You must know it's every girl's dream to hear the story of the end of the world as we know it."
"Well, then. I suppose. Let's get to it!"

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She smiles. The crowd erupts into a cacophony of screams, cheers, and applause. Hoots and hollers. Stomping. Vaguely, from one of the far stands, she can even hear song. Her smile grows wider, and she throws her arms out as if to embrace the crowd. The sounds around her louden. They're singing her name.

Years ago, when she was merely another orphaned street rat fighting for her life in the bowels of the dingy city, she never could have imagined that she'd have made it here. That she'd be holding this sword. That she'd have donned this red sash and stood before these thousands of people. But now, at the tender age of seventeen, they've put her on a pedestal and made her fight to feed their fantasies. She doesn't mind. In fact, she loves it; she draws her sword and basks in the glow of the crowd.

Their gleeful cheers are quick to turn, however, at the sight of a new face. Into the arena toddles her opponent: a muscular man fast-approaching his forties with a tapestry of scars knit tight across his chest. She can see the beast in his eyes, the raw fury tentatively bridled and lying in wait at the back of his mind. The crowd's begun to jeer at him, slurring his name, and as he picks up on the sounds, she can see the fury becoming the tiniest bit more unhinged at the back of his mind. The bridle begins to strain under the weight of his rage. But it holds.

She smirks. She knows who he is, and so does he. He still wears the brand of the King's Guild on his skin. He's a strong fighter— and, as he's standing before her now, he must have been one of the best. One of the country's brightest. He has every reason to think highly of himself. Every reason to be respected. Of course he's shocked to see that the crowd is cheering for the slight, slender girl before him. The petite thing seems so innocent, with her seemingly endless dark locks and her emerald-green eyes. She catches a softening in the man's countenance.

And then, without warning, she strikes. One, two. In three beats of the sword, she has the country's once-greatest fighter straddled beneath her with a katana at his neck. Her lithe figure is relaxed, having hardly even broken a sweat in the seconds it took to subdue the man. One slender hand presses the blade to his vein as the other ushers in praise from the crowd.

Beneath his confusion and the weight of the sword, however, the man still manages to ask her a question through grit teeth with the few breaths he's managed to keep: "How?"

She smirks again. Even with forty years of training, he's still so slow. Was this really all they could manage to pit her against? The half-smile still on her lips, she breathes, with the slightest hint of mockery edging its way into her tone, "I'm a Mary-Sue."

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Everyone knows her. She's all anyone could ever dream of being: beautiful, strong, intelligent, naturally gifted in any endeavor she might encounter. She's the strongest of the strong, yet in everything she does she acts with ease and grace— all despite her dark, troublesome past. To put it simply: she's perfect.

Too perfect.

There are no two ways about it. Mary Sue, in all her inimitably perfect, brilliant glory, is an abomination. Hellspawn. A creature created once every thousand years, she serves as the antithesis of human creation. In her perfection, she's so dull as to suck dry the color of everything around her. Even the most intricately woven legends fall to pieces at her feet, as do even the coldest of men. In the shadow of Creation's light, Mary Sue is the undoing. Destruction. Christianity can have all the Devil it wants; even evildoers contribute their part to the world.

In the beginning, the world consisted of pure nothingness— obviously, since that's how all creation stories begin. Out of nothingness, as would be expected, more nothingness was born— but it was the Genesis of Creativity that truly set this new nothingness apart. You see, out of the infinite nothingness that was was born a new breed of nothingness: the point. It, in theory, was also nothing, occupying no space, an utterly massless thing. Its existence was no more than an abstract idea of a thing. As it was nothing, an infinite number of nothings were created from the infinite pool of nothing that made up the world.

But what more is a line than infinitely many points? As there were infinitely many points spawned from the infinite pool of nothing, the idea of a line was created. And in much the same way as a line, from the infinite nothingness came the second dimension, then the third, fourth, fifth, and infinitely many more. But everything, in the end, was made of points. And they were simply nothingness held together only by the other nothingness: ideas.

The world itself exists only in theory. A line— a shape— even the point itself is only an idea. Ideas must constantly be created to keep the world alive. Where do these ideas come from, you ask? But that's a silly question. Ideas, like the rest of the world, simply exist. They, like 'nothing,' are an abstract creation. They're the ultimate redundancy; an idea is but an idea. An abstraction. To keep the balance of the world, ideas must proliferate to support the delicate structures of nothing that have formed over the course of time.

But anything that proliferates must have a predator. And that, in essence, is the Mary Sue. The Mary Sue exists to keep the existence of the ideas of ideas in check. Have too little, and the physical world begins to fall apart. The ideas of the line and the physical shape crumble at a touch. Have too many, however, and the world starts to get tangled up in itself. Ideas are like threads binding the patches that are points into one grand technicolor dreamcoat. Too much string, however, will weigh it down and make it useless.

The concept of the Mary Sue exists to catch these ideas and turn her favorites into clichés, wrapped one too many times around her body until they're finally absorbed by her all-engulfing existence. Like ideas and points, she simply exists, creating her physical form by wrapping ideas around her body while all the while consuming them so the world doesn't fall to pieces.

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Every universe has its Mary-Sue. Some might have even more than one. Little is known about these enigmatic creatures, and for the most part, they simply keep doing their jobs.

Unless they get kidnapped. Because it is somewhat tough to keep doing a job for a place you're supposed to be when you're not at all in that exact place. And it becomes even harder to do that job when you can't get back to that exact place because you have no idea where the hell you even are.

Such is the case for upwards of fifteen Mary-Sues, who all woke up with no recollection of their making it to this strange place and even less understanding of why they, of all people, must be here. They shouldn't be here in this strange house. While it's beautiful, the creatures of perfection find themselves longing for their home universes due to some primal instinct they don't understand. They've all been brought here by some unknown force, and according to the little notes scattered about the house— which they have no trouble finding, seeing as it's plot-relevant and very much important— they're due to save reality itself from some even more unknowable force that threatens their very existence.

How? How is existence due to fall apart? How are the Mary-Sues collected from various time periods and realities supposed to surmount such a challenge?

And the most pressing of all questions: how are so many Mary-Sues going to keep from imploding in the presence of so many of their kind?

Apparently, there's supposed to be some sort of CD that explains all of this. What a shame it is that some asshole stepped on it before you even got here.

This is going to be one hell of a ride.

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In an effort to keep this introduction short and sweet, I'm not going to include much else other than a quick plot teaser. All you need to know: Sues, who are not aware of their nature, are being kidnapped willy-nilly in an effort to save reality itself from some strange, unknown threat. They end up dumped in a single house with no memory of how they arrived, and now they've got to figure out what, exactly, they're supposed to be doing— and how all that perfection is supposed to get along.

There is no form. Forms are boring. Please just include the following information— making it pretty would be preferred but is not mandatory.

Name
Age (15-30; exceptions permitted)
Gender
General Appearance (Pictures are recommended but optional. Description is not)
Hair Color (Sunshine gold? Midnight black? Is it flowing?)
Eye Color (Well, it changes color with the mood, obviously! Or perhaps it's cobalt blue. Or, what the hell, silver. Or red.)
Personality (Sues don't know they're Sues. And please, please try to make them at least somewhat interesting. The characters, in theory, suck, but you as an author certainly don't! Try to make him/her interesting and unique even if that is the antithesis of Suedom itself)
Strengths (Overpowering is alright, but don't give your character literally every ability in the book. Just stick to a few and explain them well)
Weaknesses (Yes! Even if they are well-hidden or seemingly ineffective. Remember: too much of a good thing is a character weakness! Bravery = recklessness.)
Goals/Ambitions (What does he/she want to accomplish in life?)
History (Bring. On. The angst!)
A unique theme color (Please make it readable! This'll be important later on)

And, of course, feel free to add anything you like.

Lots of love, and best hopes for this to be a great, if not weird, RP!

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For a helpful compendium of Sue-Types, visit this website!