I've recently finished reading the Chobits manga and I have to say, a few points were slightly cliche and put me off a bit, but overall I loved the story and the art. <3
I've also recently been interested in a persocom RP, it doesn't have to be one-on-one, it can most certainly be a group RP, but... I'd rather the RPers involved be of what most people would call "advanced RPers". You know, the ones that post in paragraphs, not sentences. The ones that don't use periods and colons and asterisks, but write in a more story type style, as if you were reading a book.
Yeah... is that bitchy of me? Most of my friends tell me it's not, but I don't know, I feel as if I'm being a bit haughty even if they say I'm not. ><;
I don't care if you can post an IC post that's ten paragraphs long, I just want literacy and some people that can give me more than just one-liner posts. sweatdrop
Well, if anyone is interested, feel free to PM me and maybe we can start up an RP in a thread or something. I'm not a fanatic or anything, and I'm not a data bank in the way of how the story goes and the Chobits world, but I really would love to be involved in an RP.
If anyone would like to see a sample of my RPing skills, well, I just happen to have one here I can quote for you guys. It's not Chobits related, it's a demon/werewolf/vampire RP I'm involved in, but this is how I RP.
Quote:
Silence reigned in the vast room that contained the pedestal and the towering pillars covered in ancient runic designs. The stone ceiling arched high overhead, littered with visible cracks like black lightning scattered across a sand colored sky. The air, signifying the room had not seen any sunlight for some time with its stale, musty scent, was still; no breeze to stir it at present, and perhaps there never had been one to begin with.
The deathly stillness of the large room broke when soft footfalls clacked to life, reverberating off the stone walls and winding themselves around the pillars before fading away. The sound, very unmistakable in its pattern, grew increasingly louder until a tall, lithe form stepped out from the shadows in between two of the pillars; the figure's body shrouded in a long and flowing black cloak. Its movements were graceful as it entered the room; the ebony material reaching to just above the floor and obscuring even a glimpse of feet from view, creating the illusion that perhaps the being was floating just above the floor and not actually walking upon it. The illusion would have held true if not for the rhythmic sound of a woman's stiletto heels clicking against the stone floor as the figure moved.
Marahkleynehcia's pale hands, ending in long, wicked talons, slid from underneath her cloak and rose to gently push back the deep hood that hid her equally pale face. The tips of her talons dragged down along her large, curved horns before disappearing beneath the folds of her cloak, the friction between fingertip and horn creating a soft grating sound that sent a shiver up her spine. As her head tilted upwards lightly, raven hair fell away from her face to reveal her blank eyes, small, crimson veins running through their surfaces like fragile spider webs. Though it was impossible to tell where exactly she was looking, her gaze was trained on the pedestal in the center of the room, the focal point, something that was obviously forever stained by the blood of countless people.
The half-breed's eyes seem to glint cruelly as she continued to stare at the flat, reddish surface adorned with the strange marking. It seemed to call out to her, its silent voice lulling and filled with promises of power beyond anything she had ever known. Her blackened lids fluttered partway closed over her featureless eyes, her full, grey lips parting slightly as a shudder gripped her body.
As seducing as the beckoning was to her, she was no fool. She hadn't lived as long as she had by taking chances, and no matter how sweet she thought it would be now, the yearning to go to the pedestal set off a small alarm deep inside her; a streak of fear she had not known she possessed until coming across this alter that had more likely than not been home to scenes of bloody sacrifices over and over again. Melnok, the would-be seer, refused to step foot in this room, and thus had not done so since he came to this place. And she didn't blame him, if his power still lurked within his small frame perhaps this place was as dangerous to him as the lycans and vampires were.
Still, one couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he came here, or perhaps even touched the symbol on the pedestal...
Her pallid eyes flicked away and her bosom rose and fell in a soft gasp, the desires and the what-ifs of this place threatening to overwhelm her. She turned abruptly, her back being revealed to the seemingly malevolent creation in the center of the room, her hands slipping into view again as she reached up to pull the hood over her head once again. There was no point in staying here and dreaming up her own outcomes if she or Melnok or anyone else touched the symbol carved into the ancient stone, let alone allowed blood to be shed on it.
The stillness that had descended the room was once again broken as Marah's soft, clacking footsteps could be heard as she disappeared into the shadows; the sound slowly receding until it faded altogether. There was no point in thinking about it; she had no intention of ever going near it. No point in thinking about what may happen if a being of great power came into contact with the pedestal, or perhaps was even sacrificed upon it, their blood spilling free from the confines of their body to run, still warm, in crimson rivulets across the symbol; filling the etchings and splashing to the floor below.
But still, one couldn't help but wonder about such things.
The deathly stillness of the large room broke when soft footfalls clacked to life, reverberating off the stone walls and winding themselves around the pillars before fading away. The sound, very unmistakable in its pattern, grew increasingly louder until a tall, lithe form stepped out from the shadows in between two of the pillars; the figure's body shrouded in a long and flowing black cloak. Its movements were graceful as it entered the room; the ebony material reaching to just above the floor and obscuring even a glimpse of feet from view, creating the illusion that perhaps the being was floating just above the floor and not actually walking upon it. The illusion would have held true if not for the rhythmic sound of a woman's stiletto heels clicking against the stone floor as the figure moved.
Marahkleynehcia's pale hands, ending in long, wicked talons, slid from underneath her cloak and rose to gently push back the deep hood that hid her equally pale face. The tips of her talons dragged down along her large, curved horns before disappearing beneath the folds of her cloak, the friction between fingertip and horn creating a soft grating sound that sent a shiver up her spine. As her head tilted upwards lightly, raven hair fell away from her face to reveal her blank eyes, small, crimson veins running through their surfaces like fragile spider webs. Though it was impossible to tell where exactly she was looking, her gaze was trained on the pedestal in the center of the room, the focal point, something that was obviously forever stained by the blood of countless people.
The half-breed's eyes seem to glint cruelly as she continued to stare at the flat, reddish surface adorned with the strange marking. It seemed to call out to her, its silent voice lulling and filled with promises of power beyond anything she had ever known. Her blackened lids fluttered partway closed over her featureless eyes, her full, grey lips parting slightly as a shudder gripped her body.
As seducing as the beckoning was to her, she was no fool. She hadn't lived as long as she had by taking chances, and no matter how sweet she thought it would be now, the yearning to go to the pedestal set off a small alarm deep inside her; a streak of fear she had not known she possessed until coming across this alter that had more likely than not been home to scenes of bloody sacrifices over and over again. Melnok, the would-be seer, refused to step foot in this room, and thus had not done so since he came to this place. And she didn't blame him, if his power still lurked within his small frame perhaps this place was as dangerous to him as the lycans and vampires were.
Still, one couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he came here, or perhaps even touched the symbol on the pedestal...
Her pallid eyes flicked away and her bosom rose and fell in a soft gasp, the desires and the what-ifs of this place threatening to overwhelm her. She turned abruptly, her back being revealed to the seemingly malevolent creation in the center of the room, her hands slipping into view again as she reached up to pull the hood over her head once again. There was no point in staying here and dreaming up her own outcomes if she or Melnok or anyone else touched the symbol carved into the ancient stone, let alone allowed blood to be shed on it.
The stillness that had descended the room was once again broken as Marah's soft, clacking footsteps could be heard as she disappeared into the shadows; the sound slowly receding until it faded altogether. There was no point in thinking about it; she had no intention of ever going near it. No point in thinking about what may happen if a being of great power came into contact with the pedestal, or perhaps was even sacrificed upon it, their blood spilling free from the confines of their body to run, still warm, in crimson rivulets across the symbol; filling the etchings and splashing to the floor below.
But still, one couldn't help but wonder about such things.
