Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library »

Players Wanted: Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life Ù©( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players »

0
followers
follow

Swamp Thing

a secret prospect lies within

0 · 317 views · located in New Orleans (Earth Prime)

a character in “Gods Among Men”, as played by Kilgannon

Description

Image
emotions = energy

Multiple realities/dimensions exist but occupy the same point in space-time, causing overlap. This overlap can cause strange things to occur. Along the course of our evolution as a species, our perception of reality has always been extremely limited. There is an infinite amount of realities, not only for every possible variable but also on various scales.

For every choice you make, there exists a reality where you didn't make that choice. To expand, there's also an infinite amount of realities where you made that choice but something else may have been different. Perhaps the weather was a couple of degrees cooler, or maybe you were standing with your foot at a slightly different angle.

There also exists an infinite amount of realities of scale.

For example, if you were to shrink down to microscopic size you would experience an entirely different universe - one in which time, to you, seemingly behaves strangely and creatures you may have never even been aware of before pose a threat. Inversely, there exists in the cosmos things of size that are beyond human comprehension. It goes infinitely in either direction, and humans can only perceive within a limited amount of scale either way, often through the use of instrumentation.

The nature of the universe(s) is fractals all the way up and all the way down. All things are made up of the same base material, reality is experiencing itself on all levels in every possible way. Consciousness is a collective energy that is, essentially, 'transmittable', our bodies as conscious creatures are just antennae. The collective nature of consciousness causes strange occurrences from time to time, varying in severity.

There is no true conscious life after death, memories of a life lived are not retained and once a 'receiver' goes out the consciousness is returned to the collective until it can be transmitted again. Consciousness is capable of being mapped and transferred into a different host, but it is a copy of the original and thus the original returns to the collective while the copy lives on.

Emotion is a powerful energy produced by conscious, feeling beings. When intense moments of emotion occur across realities, they leave an imprint and can affect their surroundings. All things, living or dead, organic or inorganic, are capable of storing these emotional imprints. These imprints act similar to vinyl records, and can be 'played' back which causes echoes of that moment. These echoes are the source of a variety of phenomena.

The affect of an emotional event depends on a plethora of circumstances, and while some echoes may be similar and be able to be classified in a broader category, no two are the exact same. Time travel, dimension hopping, cryptids, ghosts, possessions, doppelgangers, all possible and all results of emotional imprints.

All of this is native to the third dimension.

The nature of reality on higher planes is infinitely varied. Intradimensional beings exist and can perceive across several different planes of reality. Some of these beings are drawn to the large wells of emotional energy and use it as a source of sustenance. Most are completely ignorant to the affect this has on our realities, while in extremely rare instances some are actively aware and foster emotional imprints.

There are few humans blessed - or cursed - with this knowledge. A hidden order exists in order to maintain balance as best as possible. They travel across the world, and sometimes even dimensions/time in order to prevent the chaotic bleed-through. Using their knowledge of science and higher understanding of the nature of reality they investigate, dampen, and dispel negative emotional imprints.

The majority of the world chalks these events up the supernatural, with those either discrediting them completely or applying false causes. The RP would potentially take place in a coastal city, its nighttime streets slicked with rain and illuminated by shoddy, aged neon signs. This area is under the effects caused by an intradimensional being, it has latched onto our fragment of reality and is poisoning the city so it may feed off of the negative energy.

Crime rate is high, supernatural or unexplainable events often occur, and the people all seem to be on edge, oblivious to why. The RP would follow a small group of individuals, each with their own reason for coming to the city. This band of people is very human and very mortal. Some know more than others, though none are yet fully aware of the mechanisms of reality. They've all had personal experiences that have led them to believe in paranormal events, however.

They would be presently unaware of the being affecting the city and are investigating separate events with a common thread. The first RP arc would center around a murder mystery and ultimately culminate with the knowledge of the intradimensional being and the order that keeps things in check. Its setting would be the kept within the city, with focus on a primary job but the possibility of side events as well.

The second arc would be the response to this knowledge, which would necessitate travel into uncomfortable territory in pursuit of resources. The setting here would change often, and the overall tone would be more akin to an adventure, with a sort of race-against-the-clock format in order to delay the IDB. Their introduction to the order here would be a gradual one, transitioning from them learning of its existence to straight up discovering its headquarters. Once located, they are opened up to a world that they really had no true concept of. They are also given resources which enable multiple modes of travel and handling of intradimensional phenomena.

The third and final arc is the culmination of the preparation done in the arc prior, and the handling of the intradimensional being itself. This is likely a multi-step process and the method of this is to be determined by the players. The outcome could really be anything, death of the IDB, communication and understanding with it, relocation of it, etc.

Future sagas could span a variety of genres and deal with a vast amount of phenomena. The sky is really the limit here, as long as you can think of some sort of pseudo-scientific explanation.

So begins...

Swamp Thing's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Swamp Thing Character Portrait: John Constantine
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Saarai
The dimly lit Bourbon Street bar was packed with tourists and locals alike. People who had come down to experience Jazz, and traditional New Orleans culture from the safety of a shuttle and a police escort.

And then there was John Constantine. Face bruised from his last fight. Really, it was his last beating. John could handle himself, but he wasn't exactly Bruce Lee. He held a bag of ice against his face with one hand, and a shot glass with the other. He could hear the TV playing.

Maxwell Lord, he hated that guy, was announcing some new project. All it took was for him to shout, "God Bless America!" For John to loudly scoff. "You got a problem, brah?" A man beside him asked, "I just think all that stuff's bollocks." John answered, "Of course, some limey has a problem with America." The man said.

"You can get out of here." Another said to John, "You misunderstand, I mean that faux patriotism. You can't tell me you lot actually believe in that shit?" John said, glancing around at the people in the bar.

They were mostly bikers.

"Actually, I can see why that would get you all riled up. You gents are hell-bent for leather, innit?" The Englishman joked, downing his shot. "Hot-blooded Americans down in good ol' New Orleans. I forgot I was in the American south for awhile. The only region in the world us Brits get to make fun of for the lack of proper dentistry." He said, tapping his empty shot glass.

As it was refilled he could practically hear the fists balling up as more men began to surround him. John quickly took the shot and downed it, slamming the glass down hard on the head of the man beside him, throwing his bag ice down hard enough that it would spill.

He jumped up and tossed an elbow back into one of the bikers, the ice on the ground caused the others rushing him to slip and fall. John took advantage, jumping over the bodies and using a few as stepping stones to the relative safety of the New Orleans streets.

He figured he would have made it too were it not for the fact that he noticed a potted plant. He grabbed the plant and continued on his way, only to find a fist in his face and his body hitting the ground.

Next thing he knee he was being beaten and then tossed out on the street.

"I want the plant. It's my friend." He called out from where he lay on the concrete. The plant came flying out of the bar, slamming down beside him. It didn't take any damage. John realized that this was because it was plastic.

"Well, fuck me." He said to himself, slowly getting to his feet. He wiped blood from the cut on his cheek, hobbling over towards bushes not far from the bar.

"Are you there, Thing? I have good news, Thing." He said as he stood in front of the bush, pedestrians passing by with looks of disgust on their face.

"Is he...?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Swamp Thing Character Portrait: John Constantine
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

In truth, John Constantine's efforts to find vegetation were pointless, as Swamp Thing was connected to all plant matter, including the microscopic algae resting comfortably in John's digestive tract. Granted, the end result would not be one that Swamp Thing wanted. Still, halfway across the world, John was heard.

In the bushes, plant fibrils flared with consciousness and Swamp Thing partially manifested into form, appearing as only a face obscured by leaves. Swamp Thing didn't need the Jazz to recognize what this place was, he could do that just by the feel of it. Memories flare like the sun as it dips behind the horizon, streaking a sunset of thoughts that originally aren't his own. Louisiana. Home. At least to Alec Holland.

"Hello John... it is good... to see you again... though, I hope... it is under... better circumstances... this time."

Swamp Thing took note of the bruises and thought perhaps not. His brow furrowed and he continued.

"Tell me why... you have called... me back to this... wretched City of Man."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Swamp Thing Character Portrait: John Constantine
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Saarai
"Wretched? I like this place. Though, that might actually prove your point." John admitted, "Look, I've been chasing down a lead here. Felix Faust, you should know him, or Alec should at least." The Englishman said, digging a beat up pack of cigarettes from an inside coat pocket.

The blue-collar warlock stuffed the cigarette between his lips, raising a now fiery finger up and placing it against the end of it. "He's up to something. Something big. It involves Intergang, meaning it probably involves Trigon and human sacrifice, meaning it probably involves virgin girls."

"I say, out of the kindness of my heart, that we sort them out. Chase Faust back to Metropolis and let the Superhunk or the Sentinels finish him off."