Bare with me, I have little experience in RP because other people keep godmoding me.
Lanuix's guide is useful, check out here.
Real characters or your original character is fine, keep it in the Bioshock universe.
Why Bioshock? Why not. It's one of my favorite game series with great lore and trying to make this guild not dead.
Join as whoever you like anytime and feel free to switch characters too.
Will try other RP, when I get better.
Most importantly have fun.
Lanuix's guide is useful, check out here.
Real characters or your original character is fine, keep it in the Bioshock universe.
Why Bioshock? Why not. It's one of my favorite game series with great lore and trying to make this guild not dead.
Join as whoever you like anytime and feel free to switch characters too.
Will try other RP, when I get better.
Most importantly have fun.
Scene 1
The year is 1958, a day before the New Year's party. Located at around 63° 2' N, 29° 55' W, you live in an underwater utopia, Rapture. Rapture is a true paradise for everyone, it was built to keep out the parasites in the world. Andrew Ryan has gathered individuals who are highly intellectual and entrepreneurs, you were one of these individuals. You find yourself waking up in your room and staring at the television. There Andrew Ryan's famous words play:
I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question.
Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?
"No," says the man in Washington, "it belongs to the poor."
"No," says the man in the Vatican, "it belongs to God."
"No," says the man in Moscow, "it belongs to everyone.
" I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different.
I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor; where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.
Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?
"No," says the man in Washington, "it belongs to the poor."
"No," says the man in the Vatican, "it belongs to God."
"No," says the man in Moscow, "it belongs to everyone.
" I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different.
I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor; where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.
As the speech was about to end, you here a knock at your door. "Special delivery," the voice yells as they repeatedly knock at your door.
