ℓινιηg ƒσя тнιѕ мσмєηт - [OPEN]

[Cathartic Denouement]

ℓινιηg ƒσя тнιѕ мσмєηт

тнє ¢ℓσ¢к ιѕ тι¢кιηg...

___________________________
тι¢к-тσ¢к, тι¢к-тσ¢к_________________

αη¢ιєηт нιѕтσяу

For years, mankind has dreamed of time travel: the
ability to travel to the future, to the past... anywhen
or anywhere a traveler wanted to go. And in the year
2489 AD, this dream of mankind was realized. Our story
takes place in three distinct periods known simply as
the Past (December 1775), the Present (October 1999),
and the Future (April 2493).

Naturally, as the time machine is still a relatively new
invention, the adventurous are tinkering with their newly
acquired "toys." Many of these self-made "improvements"
have greatly benefited the time traveling industry, and
many men and women have made small fortunes with
their designs and ideas. Unfortunately, some of these
experiments have ended with nothing short of disaster,
often allowing a traveler to arrive in an era, only to find
they cannot get home -- and these problems typically
aren't noticed until someone gets stuck somewhen.
These lost travelers are many times unlocatable, at
least until another time traveler happens across them
on their own journey.

But with every great good -- despite the problems that
may be associated with it -- comes a great evil. A man
by the name of Arthur Malory has realized the potential
power that could come from time traveling, and has set
out to rewrite history to make himself the undisputed
ruler of the future and outlaw time travel -- unless, of
course, he's the one doing the time traveling. Can our
heroes find some way to stop him before it's too late?

ℓιкє ¢ℓσ¢кωσяк

oo1 - When time traveling, you can be in any of the three eras,
but everyone currently in one era must be on the same day.
oo2 - Arthur Malory cannot be killed or otherwise maimed. Yet.
oo3 - PM your character profiles to me. See character post for
more.
oo4 - This is a writing guild, so it should go without saying that
spelling and grammar should be... well, decent, at the very
least.
oo5 - Violence, cursing, and romance are all well and good, but
remember to keep everything within the ToS. This means PG-13.
oo6 - You are encouraged -- but not required -- to have multiple
characters; at least one time traveler, and perhaps a character in
the present and/or past periods.
oo7 - The NPCs of any era may be played by anyone at any time.
Provided, of course, their personalities are kept relatively constant
throughout. Am I looking for historical accuracy, as far as the
founding fathers and such are concerned? No. Just make sure
they aren't goofing off in one post and uber-serious in the next.
Are you required to use the NPCs? No. But they're there if you
so desire.

OPEN AND ACCEPTING.
SEND ME YOUR PROFILES, HOES.



And YES, it looks like a lot to read -- but that's because I've thought everything out and things have to be done a certain way to avoid confusion.
Because NOT EVERYONE WILL NECESSARILY BE IN THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME.

 

[Cathartic Denouement]

тнє ραѕт

ηєω єηgℓαη∂// ѕєνєηтєєη ѕєνєηту-ƒινє;;
War has begun. The true question of independence,
however, is still being hotly debated by Congress in
Philadelphia. Should the colonies break from Britain
to form a new nation, or should they remain colonies?

αятнυя мαℓσяу;;
Arthur is all for independence -- of course, only if he
becomes the first president. But then, he doesn't see
himself as a future president. He sees himself as the
once and future king of a proud nation completely under
his rule.

ρσѕтιηg;;
When in the past, use darkblue font. If emphasizing
something, or typing your character's thoughts,
use italics.

ƒσυη∂ιηg ƒαтнєяѕ// ηρ¢ѕ;;
John Adams [x]
Thomas Jefferson [x]
Benjamin Franklin [x]
Arthur Malory

тнє ρяєѕєηт

тнє υηιтє∂ ѕтαтєѕ// ηιηєтєєη ηιηєту-ηιηє;;
The world is on the doorstep of the new millenium
and all its potentially catastrophic problems. Will all
the computers crash? Will there be some kind of
technological apocalypse with the coming of Y2K?

And what of this self-proclaimed "prophet" that has
been interviewed on countless daytime talk shows --
this Arthur Malory -- who claims to have seen the future?

αятнυя мαℓσяу;;
Arthur Malory has chosen 1999 as the perfect time
to strike: with all the hubbub and confusion, all the
panic over what the year 2000 will bring to the
technological world, he has seized his chance and
has declared himself a prophet, a man who has seen
the future.

Declaring himself as the Second Coming of Christ?
Hardly. But still, it's gotten people talking.

ρσѕтιηg;;
When in the present, use

darkred font. If emphasizing
something, or typing your character's thoughts,
use italics.

ρяєтту ƒα¢єѕ// ηρ¢ѕ;;
Bill Clinton [x]
Arthur Malory
Various talk show hosts

тнє ƒυтυяє

ηєω αмєяι¢α// тωєηту-ƒσυя ηιηєту-тняєє;;
The South seceded after a second Civil War, bloodier
even than the Taiping Rebellion of the 1800s. And so
the Confederate and United States of America were
officially separated. Slavery was reinstated in the South,
Jim Crow laws were reinstated. All in all, it was a bad
time for the land once known as the Home of the Free.

But then came the impending threat of World War III.
Officials from both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line (newly
named the Grant-Lee Line, after commanders in the
previous Civil War) met and discussed the reforming of
the United States, each side knowing it was not powerful
enough on its own to defend itself if the need arose. But
no agreement was made; throughout WWIII (2012 - 2017),
the CSA and USA remained separate political entities.

Forty years later, when World War IV was on the horizon,
however, the two severely weakened nations knew they had
no choice but to unite once more. And so the Confederacy of
New America was born, the product of World War IV, also
known as the War That Never Was.

The War that Never Was would have been what hypothesizers
predicted to be the bloodiest war ever fought on Earth, had it
not been for the intervention of a man named Harold Geoffrey
Welsh. Welsh was from what was then the future, and had
brought with him innovations from his own century. He spoke
with the United Nations. He spoke to leaders of many new
nations who had not yet joined with the UN. He explained to
them what the repercussions of their actions would be, were
war to take place. "The future," he told them, "has already
been written. It is like history, and what has happened cannot
be undone or changed. There must be peace." Innocent enough
with their lack of time traveling technology, the people believed
him. Peace treaties were signed around the world. It seemed
at last there would be world peace.

Of course, what Welsh had told the world leaders was
complete rubbish. Of course the future could be rewritten --
all one had to do was rewrite history. But the people of the
world wouldn't learn that for many years yet.

αятнυя мαℓσяу;;
Edgar Arthur Malory, Duke of the Acropolis. Wealthy.
Charismatic. Cunning. Everything a world leader wished to
be and so much more. Everything was going for him; he
didn't want for anything. But that was years ago, when he
was young -- just out of college, having inherited his father's
estate.

But as the years went by, he became increasingly aware of
the faults in the government. He could see all of the problems --
all of them -- and even could see solutions to them. But
the other citizens of New America -- ha!

After thirty years had passed, he saw the answer: if he
were President -- no, if he were King of New America, he could
fix the problems. The economy would thrive. Crime would be
absent. But how to do it? And so he began steadily crafting his
master plan....

ρσѕтιηg;;
When in the past, use gray font. If emphasizing
something, or typing your character's thoughts,
use italics.

тнє ωєαℓтну// ηρ¢ѕ;;
Arthur Malory
Jason/Thomas Barnes  

[Cathartic Denouement]

¢нαяα¢тєя ρяσƒιℓєѕ

[imgleft]URL OF IMAGE[/imgleft][size=18][b]тнєу ηαмє∂ мє[/b][/size]
[size=10][color=gray]full name[/color][/size]
[size=18][b]вυт тнєу ¢αℓℓ мє[/b][/size]
[size=10][color=gray]nickname[/color][/size]
[size=18][b]тнєу gινє мє gιƒтѕ ση[/b][/size]
[size=10][color=gray]birthdate [day month year][/color][/size]
[size=18][b]α gℓαη¢є αт тнє мιяяσя[/b][/size]
[size=10][color=gray]physical description[/color][/size]
[size=18][b]α ραgє ƒяσм му ∂ιαяу[/b][/size]
[size=10][color=gray]an overview of your character's life thus far[/color][/size]
[size=18][b]тнє σηє вєнιη∂ тнє ¢υятαιη[/b][/size]
[size=10][color=gray]gaia username[/color][/size]

тιρѕ ;;
oo1 - "Gray" should be changed to the colour relating
to the era your character is from. (See above.)
oo2 - A picture is optional. If it's excessively large,
it will be linked. No anime pictures or Tekteks, please.
oo3 - Keep ages 16 and older.
oo4 - PM your character profile to me -- DO NOT post it on the thread!

n p c s
тнєу ηαмє∂ мє
Edgar Arthur Malory, Duke of the Acropolis
вυт тнєу ¢αℓℓ мє
Arthur
тнєу gινє мє gιƒтѕ ση
21 September 2436
α gℓαη¢є αт тнє мιяяσя
A thin frame, topped with a gaunt face. His once-black
hair is now greying, and his dark eyes have become
somewhat hollowed of late, though they still gleam with
the light of determination. He's nearly always dressed
nicely, in dark, finely tailored suits.
α ραgє ƒяσм му ∂ιαяу
Edgar Arthur Malory inherited his title from his father,
who inherited it from his father, and so on and so forth
back several hundreds of years. He's spent a great deal
of money on the researching of time travel, donating
hundreds of thousands of dollars to the development of
the new science after having realized the power one
could have. Ignoring laws of the age, he has proceeded
to tamper with history with a single goal in mind: become
the king of not only New America, but the world.




тнєу ηαмє∂ мє
Conor Jason Barnes // Thomas Andrew Barnes
["Jason" picture: on the left]
вυт тнєу ¢αℓℓ мє
Jason // Tom, Tommy
тнєу gινє мє gιƒтѕ ση
2 December 2467
α gℓαη¢є αт тнє мιяяσя
Not fat, not thin, Mr. Barnes is in every possible way,
average. His once-sandy-blonde hair, typically
unkempt, is now a darker brunette, and is always
kept neat and tidy. His "rugged" looks have
been exchanged for picturesque cleanliness.
α ραgє ƒяσм му ∂ιαяу
Jason Barnes was the most average of Average Joes
-- with an average salary, a crappy apartment,
no girlfriend, and no particular outstanding ability
or quality about him. Cue Arthor Malory -- the
misguided Duke traveled five hundred years into
the past, killed Jason's great-great-something-
grandfather, and voila: instant multibillionaire,
thriving off the influx of money from his family's long-
lived tobacco company that had risen up from a single
plantation in Virginia.

t h e . f u t u r e
тнєу ηαмє∂ мє
Robin Cecilia Anderson
вυт тнєу ¢αℓℓ мє
Rob
тнєу gινє мє gιƒтѕ ση
12 April 2469
α gℓαη¢є αт тнє мιяяσя

"That short, brunette girl with the contagious laughter" is
how many of her friends would describe her. Hardly five-
foot-three, if that, Robin has seemingly permanent laugh-
lines next to her dark eyes, as she nearly always has a
smile on her face. After several years of corrective dental
work, she has what her friends jokingly refer to as a "movie
star smile," though some of her teeth are stained a bit yellow
from not flossing well enough when she had braces.
α ραgє ƒяσм му ∂ιαяу
Robin's free spirit was evident from childhood. Though
she knew when to settle down, more often than not she
was out and about, playing with the other kids in their
apartment building, racing their newest remote-control
hover cars or wondering why they couldn't live on the
moon like the Australians. She had average grades
throughout high school -- never quite failing, but hardly
ever getting above an A on her report cards -- and
managed to get through college all right. She has two
younger twin brothers, Adam and Douglas, who were
hardly ever seen away from her as children, and still
stop by frequently to mooch some cash from her.
тнє σηє вєнιη∂ тнє ¢υятαιη
Cathartic Denouement

t h e . p r e s e n t
тнєу ηαмє∂ мє
Danielle Josselyn Bell
вυт тнєу ¢αℓℓ мє
DJ
тнєу gινє мє gιƒтѕ ση
15 June 1981
α gℓαη¢є αт тнє мιяяσя
"Grungy" is the best word to describe Danielle. Living
on the streets after running away from home has had
a very obvious effect on her physical appearance. Her
once-silky hair is now tangled and matted, seemingly
permanently so, and her blue-grey eyes are lackluster.
She's underweight from meager, infrequent meals.
α ραgє ƒяσм му ∂ιαяу
DJ ran away from home after dropping out of school
at fifteen. Her father had left when she was young, and
her mother was an alcoholic, so she figured, what was
the point of staying in such a miserable situation? And
so she had taken off, spending many nights sleeping in
the tube slide of the neighbourhood playground. After
weeks of merciless taunts and jeers from her previous
schoolmates, she had taken what little she had with her
and set off to find somewhere else to live, not caring
where she went, as long as it was better than where she
currently was.
тнє σηє вєнιη∂ тнє ¢υятαιη
Cathartic Denouement

t h e . p a s t
тнєу ηαмє∂ мє
Thomas Daniel Barnes
вυт тнєу ¢αℓℓ мє
Tom
тнєу gινє мє gιƒтѕ ση
28 February 1751
α gℓαη¢є αт тнє мιяяσя
Thomas Barnes is lanky and awkward -- the sort of
guy you'd expect to see bent over a keyboard in modern
times, with long fingers that were made to play the piano.
His face is freckled from years of labor in the sun on his
family's Virginia plantation, and he has a scar running from
just below his left eye down to the edge of his jaw. His light
brown hair, more often than not, hangs loose and shaggy
around his face, and in his startlingly green eyes there is
very little humour.
α ραgє ƒяσм му ∂ιαяу
For years, Thomas longed to attend William and Mary,
but his family "just couldn't afford it," despite the money
they made from their tobacco plantation. Fed up with his
parents' insistence that he stay on the plantation to take
over after they were gone, he ran away from home, quick to enlist in the continental army when
the fighting broke out. His older brother Conor, however, had sided with the British, and the first
time they met in a battle -- hardly a battle at all, more of a small skirmish -- had been the last they
had seen of each other since, Conor giving his little brother a memento of their meeting: a scar
running down the left side of his face that he would carry the rest of his life. Now, Thomas
can't wait to meet up with his brother again, to return the favour.
тнє σηє вєнιη∂ тнє ¢υятαιη
Cathartic Denouement  

[Cathartic Denouement]

ησтєѕ

тιмє тяανєℓ;;
As we can all guess, time travel has many... intricacies involved with it. For example, could a man go back in time and inadvertently become his own father? Or has it already happened, and so is unavoidable?
Questions like these are, well, problems, quite frankly, and are going to be ignored for the time being.

In this roleplay, time travel is time travel. If you ******** something up in the past, well, it gets ******** up, along with anything else that happens after it, thus ruining the space-time continuum. So Arthur Malory's plan, as misguided as it may be, could, essentially work.

Of course, with some logic and reasoning, that could be thrown aside quite easily. But it won't be. Because, like so many roleplays, this is devoid of logic and reasoning. Well, okay, there is some reasoning involved, but not as far as the space-time continuum and its properties are concerned.

ℓαωѕ σƒ тнє ƒυтυяє;;
The future has a few basic laws, some of which are pretty obvious. Note that these are not rules for the roleplay, but rules for the society as made by the government of the time.

oo1 - Murder, rape, drugs, underage drinking... still illegal.
oo2 - The legal drinking age has been lowered to 18.
oo3 - Driving permits may be acquired at age 14, but a person must be 17 to obtain a license.
oo5 - To operate a time traveling vehicle (including but not limited to the Ford Timex, Ferrari D-Gray, Mitsubishi Omega-13, Porche Quelquefois, or Toyota L'Heure), a person must be at least 21 years of age.

ℓαωѕ σƒ тιмє тяανєℓ;;
oo1 - A time traveler may not tamper with anything that has happened in recorded history, such as the signing of documents or the formation of nations or governments.
oo2 - A time traveler may not present any futuristic technology to peoples of the past.
oo3 - A time traveler may not take a past-dweller to an era other than his or her own.

¢яє∂ιт
Concept - Cathartic Denouement
NPCs - Cathartic Denouement  

[Margem]

[I'm Margem and I approve this message - correction: thread. Dang! I love it, Cathartic! If only I wasn't busy doing maintenance work on the guild.... Have fun and wonderful thread creating!!! ]  

[Cathartic Denouement]

тнє ση¢є αη∂ ƒυтυяє кιηg

The Once and Future King. Yes, that's what they would call him. Edgar Arthur Malory, Duke of the Acropolis, smiled at his reflection in the rearview mirror of his newly purchased Ferrari D-Gray, slicking back his greying hair from his face. Why the confounded thing had a rearview mirror, he didn't know; it wasn't as though he was going to back anything.

He chuckled to himself. Well, maybe he was, technically speaking. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, humming to himself. If only these things had a radio....

The vehicle was sleek, black, and had a powerful engine; powerful enough to rip apart the space-time continuum, then stitch it back together once his journey was complete. His journey....

He glanced out the window of the vehicle -- it couldn't precisely be called a car, however much it resembled one -- and watched as the decades flashed by. He was somewhere in the nineteen hundreds -- the fifties, by the looks of things -- then suddenly he was flying through World War II, then World War I, then the turn of the century....

He sighed. He had been in the time machine for what had seemed like hours. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. It had been hours. Two and a half, to be precise, and he still had another hundred and thirty years to pass through.

The advantage to owning a Ferrari model -- as opposed to one of those tacky Fords -- was that time travel was much faster and much easier. Besides that, the vehicle itself looked better, and the interior was much more posh.

He absently wondered why the manufacturers insisted upon making the time machines look like cars -- rumour had it that the next Porche model would be able to drive like one as well as travel through time, a feat that had as of yet been unaccomplished -- but he supposed it was because it made people feel more comfortable with them. Or something like that.

A dinging noise suddenly sounded, and he looked around for its source; had one of the doors flown open? Had his safety belt come unfastened? Then he realized the cause for the noise: he had reached his destination.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1775. Congress was in session. The movement for independence had not yet been proposed; rather, it had been proposed -- by John Adams -- but had not been debated, and wouldn't be debated until someone other than Adams proposed it.

Which was exactly why Arthur Malory was here. He reached into the passenger seat and grabbed the heavy wool clothing lying there. With some difficulty, he managed to change into clothes more befitting to the era in the confined space of his Ferrari, and then, removing his keys from the ignition, clambered out, lacking quite a bit of dignity.

He straightened his jacket, tugged on his socks to ensure they were satisfactorily taut, then set off on a short trek through a wooded area to arrive in Philadelphia proper.

αятнυя мαℓσяу

ooc||
et voila: the intro. so the roleplay is now
officially open. (: once you've sent me a
character profile and i've added it to the
character post, feel free to jump in.  

[Cathartic Denouement]

συя ρσσя ℓιттℓє вαву, ѕнє ƒєℓℓ нαя∂ αη∂ ƒαѕт

Robin looked longingly up at the iron-wrought gates, staring at the mansion that topped the sloping lawn. The Acropolis, it was called. She often wondered how one man could stand to live alone in such a huge house. Solar panels lined the roof, and dozens of winking lights could be seen through the multi-story windows. And he wasn't even home.

Arthur Malory had taken off a few days ago -- that was common knowledge -- where he had gone, however, was a mystery. Some people said he had been kidnapped -- but how do you kidnap a man like Arthur Malory? Quite simply, you don't. Some people said he was on holiday, but that couldn't be, either -- he always made it very public when he was going to visit his chateau in Old Paris, or his version of the Forbidden City in East Japan, or his private island in the East Indies. If there was one thing that man enjoyed, it was flaunting his wealth.

It wasn't that Robin was poor -- she was, like most people, the "middle class," a part of the once-named bourgeoisie. You never heard that term any more -- bourgeoisie. Now it was just "the rich," "the poor," and "everyone else." No more bourgeoisie; no more working class. Everyone else. That was it.

Robin turned away from the gates and the picturesque view of the Acropolis Mansion, eager to continue her walk. But as soon as she turned away, she saw she wouldn't be walking. Sitting in the road was a beat-up Toyota pickup truck. Not that people really did much picking up any more. Sitting behind the wheel was a rugged-looking youth her own age who needed a shave fairly badly.

"Hey, Rob," he said, grinning broadly. He hit a button beside the steering wheel and the passenger-side door swung open. He pushed back some of his dirty blonde hair from his face. "Get in, we can go get a drink or something."

Smiling, Robin climbed into the truck's cab, the door closing firmly behind her of its own accord. "Jason, what are you listening to?" she asked after a moment, noting the soft music filtering through the speakers.

His face flushed as he hurriedly tried to cover the radio panel with a hand, to change the channel, something.

"Prelude and Fugue by Bach?"

"In D Minor," he added.

"That's so... not what I expected from you." She had spoken to Jason Barnes often enough, but had never ridden in a car with him, or, for that matter, wondered about his preferences in music. But Bach wasn't what she had expected by a long shot.

"The classics never die," he said defensively. He jabbed a finger at the touch-screen, bringing up a menu of available music genres. "Find something else, then."

She laughed. "No, this is fine, really. Really," she repeated as he gave her a glance. To prove her point, she tapped on 'currently playing,' and the song's title and composer reappeared.

But soon the music was changed to something more modern -- an upbeat, techno song with a thumping bass. All songs nowadays sounded like that; the only difference was the lyrics that went along with the thumping bass, and even those were beginning to look like carbon copies of each other. But that didn't matter right now; what mattered was that Robin was about to get a free drink, and if she played her cards right, maybe she could get a free dinner out of the deal, too.

* * *

Robin laughed uproariously and put her now-empty glass on the bar's wooden surface; Jason grinned at her appreciatively -- most people didn't think his jokes were funny. He frowned as the bartender walked over, diverting her attention.

"Another one, ma'am?"

"No, just some water," she said. She frowned slightly at his use of "ma'am." She hated that word; she was too young to be called ma'am.

"Sure thing," he said, and ambled off to get her a glass of water.

She looked back at Jason, but he wasn't the Jason she recognized. His dirty-blonde hair was now a dark brown, and his stubble had been shaved off. He wasn't dressed casually any more; he was wearing nice slacks and a dress shirt. This wasn't Jason; it couldn't be. But where could he have gone? "Jason...?"

He frowned. "Who's Jason?" he asked. "And do I know you?"

"Jason Barnes," she said firmly. "You're Jason Barnes. And not ten minutes ago you were hitting on me, so yeah, I'd say you know me!"

"Why would I be hitting on the likes of you, commoner?"

She opened her mouth indignantly to say something to him, but the impostor-Jason had already walked off. "Jason--!"

"It's Thomas," he said. "Thomas Barnes." And then he was gone.

The bartender walked back over with Robin's glass of water. "How do you not know who Thomas Barnes is?" he asked. "He inherited his great-something-granddaddy's name and fortune -- tells everyone that. Something about a tobacco plantation back before the first Civil War. Almost as rich as the Duke, some say."

Robin didn't say anything in response, simply pulling some cash out of her pocket -- not bothering to even count the exact amount -- and slapping it down on the bar before walking out after the man formerly known as Jason Barnes.

But when she reached the sidewalk outside, he was gone.

яσвιη αη∂єяѕση

тнє ση¢є αη∂ ƒυтυяє кιηg

Arthur Malory examined the bade he had pulled from the young man's chest. "Sorry, friend," he said, "but I need a reason to speak to Congress."

With surprising strength for a man his age, Arthur picked up the youth he had killed and slung him across his shoulders. Before his death, the young man had revealed his name to be Conor Barnes; the name wasn't important really, but the youth had also revealed himself to be a spy for the British army. That was his last mistake.

As Arthur hurried down the streets of Philadelphia, looking for what would later be named Independence Hall, people moved swiftly out of his way.

Arthur Malory wasn't thinking of the repercussions of killing Conor Barnes, only of his plan and how it was to unfold. He didn't think that the simple act of killing a man -- a nobody, just another nameless face in the crowd -- would change a man's life forever. He didn't know that he had changed Jason Barnes's life forever, making another nobody, another nameless face in the crowd, into a multi-billionaire.

αятнυя мαℓσяу