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  1. Coeus Corrupt (Ko-wus) Pantheon: Greek Age: 1482 Height: 14' or 19' standing Fighting Style: Soul Leeching Alignment: Chaotic Evil FANTASY In the bowels of a long lost Anunnaki burial chamber roams the Titan Coeus. He once was the most intelligent Titan to ever exist and was the most likely to succeed at developing humanity in the outside world. Fate was cruel to him though as his curiosity got the best of him. Nun warned all the ancient bloodlines of the three dominant spirits that were sent to Earth with him. Nun possessed one but the other two were lost in the crash landing of his ship. Coeus searched for years for relics of the long lost Sirius ship and did not heed the warning of Nun to notify him immediately if they ever were to be discovered. When he touched the relic, the spirit within it infused with his core, causing him to fall into madness. He tried to fight the urge for a time but eventually it took over and he killed an Anunnaki by draining it of its soul. Uranus, his father, intervened on his behalf when Marduk seeked vengeance. Marduk did not trust Uranus to honor his word though and negotiated the terms of his punishment. The Annunaki would build a cursed facility under the ground which would keep him imprisoned for eternity with special sigils that drained his power. He is forever roaming these halls waiting for the day he can be free to feed again. HISTORY Coeus is of the Greek pantheon, known as the Titan of rational intelligence. He fathered many children and was considered a positive Titan. In the Titanomachy (The war between Titans and Olympians,) he was overthrown and imprisoned for an eternity in Tartarus (Hell.) unlike the other Titans, he went mad in his imprisonment and broke free of his chains in an attempt to escape but failed in his attempt. THEORY We decided to change the timeline a bit and tie his historical madness into his inquisitive nature. We liked the tragedy of an intelligent and benevolent Titan falling from grace due to his lack of wisdom. By showing his fall, we make him more relatable and also incorporate cross pantheon relationships between the Anunnaki and the Titans. This allows us to create vivid lore that mixes the two worlds and enriches the story of a mad god who was once a benevolent saint. Full blown critiques plz. This is a rough of the Coeus concept which will be properly rendered at a later date. The image is the scale.
  2. They dont have names, they are called by order of my writing them: 1: In a ghastly shade, Where residue of emotions lies, A sharp emptiness, with the bite of a blade, A sharp silence, within which every human cries, Silent cries, penetrate with the sound of strife, A 4th dimention created for those, Who cannot stabilise, Their desire for life. 2: Soaring seas, breaking apart, A vision distorted, beyond our comprehension, Surreal thoughts created by my mind, A literary distortion, What Ive read, what Ive seen, what Ive experienced, Mingle and entangle, To create the chaos of my reality, I do not remember anymore, what is real, What is a memory, And what I imagined, what I wished. I live a half life, Or maybe, A double life with half the meaning. 3: A noble obligation, to live, create, perform, To out do the last generation, to up their ideals and their form, I suffocate in my own aristocracy, in my own pretentions, Set my goals too high, but fail to chase those aspirations, A shade of my former self, A self I barely remember, A self fragile and beautiful, a porcelain doll, Set on the shop self, To be bought, to be sold, A toy. 4: A grotesque outline of a world I abandoned, A burnt cinder, the love I found abandoned, A realm of imagination, again Im abandoned, A solitary tear, that is all that I can handle, For truly, cast away, Humanity is what I abandoned. 5: All my previous ladies have few photos with me, Although in their mind they propably have many photos of me, Their mental photos full of hate of me, Remember a girl who always thought of "me", They forget the moments that I abandoned my beliefs, my stigma for them, the times I lost my "me", And I dont know about you but thats sad for me. They hate me, Detest me, Even though they were everything to me. Is this how I feel when everything fails me? 6: A colourful light, Sparks that play roles of shadows, Casting through an open window, A colourful light, Early, pinkish dawn, Sharply reflecting off of the skin, Of Gods incarnation laying amongst bed sheets. The light seems almost fractal, almost perfect, In the imperfection on her skin, I see Gods work. The light freckles that adorn her cheeks, Cheeks of pure white, bright as lilies, The same lilies that will decorate her funeral casket, As the light seeks deeper, as if looking for her beauty, Reflecting off her bare chest, Stomach, Thighs, Neck, Synergy of a form complete, They brand me a heretic, because looking at this cannon, I cannot help but conclude, That if God indeed exists. God must have the shape of a female. 7: Quam amoena, The way the sound falls on my lips, Like rosepetals that flood my world, Each a delicacy that lasts a lifetime, A single moment, compromised of an eternity of lifetimes, Each different, yet the same, Quam amoena, The petals like silk, Touch my lips, allow me to kiss, In my dying moments, As I lay in an ocean of blood, Quam amoena that today, I finally get to die. 8: Imagine a desert, An eternal world of emptiness. The material is immaterial, Snow, sand, concrete, space, All that is consequential is the emptiness. Now imagine a solitary figure amongst the dunes, Wrapped in cloth, holding a sword. A plain sword, damascus steel from an age long gone. Crismon is the primary colour of her clothing, A strange contrast to the gray surroundings. As you try to grasp her appearance, you find it impossible, As her figure flows, ever so softly, like a mountain stream. The moment you see an image, it is long gone into nothingness. And you realise she has no form, An outcast, forgotten. As you leave the scene, filled with sadness, Take one look back at her emptiness, at her darkness, Open your eyes, breathe deeply, feel alive And know you survived, Seeing the inside of my mind. 9: Burn you distance, Burn your self righteousness The apocalypse has come, the world has ended, God has abandoned us, God has stuck a middle finger at his creation, Picked up a bottle of vodka, poured it into his liver, And went to make a new better world. Sad, or maybe its not, Because how can truth be sad if truth is the only reality and reality is simply beautiful? Fuck your truism, Fuck what I think, Fuck me, fuck you, fuck everyone, Banal, Maybe I should make the metaphor of pandoras box, Just to fit with this cliche? 10: I cant sleep, I cant really be awake either, My world revolves around ezoterisms, The ezoterism of my own being, My world revolves around these People I use These procents I consume This music I abuse This poetry I destroy myself with When I used to still care about my life I used to cut, bleed crimson on the bright white floor tiles Now that Ive given up I cut my mentality with this poetry Mental self harm 11: There are moments when words just dont flow, Emotionless nights when apathy and darkness consumes it all, There are moments when the words overflow, A hateful river, flooding the plains of your world, Between nihilism and destruction, My plain resides, A 4th dimention, Full of self lies. 12: Will anyone cry, when I am layed to rest, A thought every person has, an easy thought, An easy thought to make me cry however, When I realise that while anyone will cry, Everyone will cry, They will all cry for the wrong me, When my parents weep for their daughter, My previous lovers weep from happiness that their object of hate is gone, My friends will weep for their sister, And I will weep for the potential that never became Never became anything at all 13: Drops slowly dropping of the celing, My eyes follow them, lazy, my retinas peeling Away the fractal nature of this moment, this feeling, An emotion that is always too far, but somehow to close to my own begining, A trace of love, a trace of erotism, A trace of my long lost heart A trace of my oversized egoism The path of the drop, as if tracing the path of hate that I have so often traveled, Slowly progressing, gravity pulling it towards its epitath, A sad end, but fitting, For the last drop of blood that sustained my living. Any feedback, negative or positive is welcome! <3
  3. I decided not tobshare anything in this forum.
  4. I am currently looking for capable individuals to fill positions within my production group. This involves artists, composers, web producer/designer, sound designer, programmer, writers, graphics designer, producer, and a co-director. Please take your time to fully read each project pitch and determine for yourself if either are of any interest to you. When you have done that, follow the google form URL located at the very bottom of the post to complete the following application. The application is one of two parts, the second part will come to you individually according to which position you applied for. Think of the first part being interview questions, and the second part is for you to show me what you are capable of bringing to the project. Once the second part has been sent, the results of whether you have been selected will come to you through email after all applicants have been reviewed. *Should you decide against joining the production after you have been selected you are by no means obligated to commit. However, please make that decision before officially taking part in the team.* The projects I currently have planned may be considered within the "concept" stages. However, I have envisioned how each story will progress and made a few outlines for portions of a common route. Island Rakuen(18+) Genres: Mystery, Drama, Romance, Horror It is summer break and college students Shougo and Kyouhei have big plans for vacation. Together, they rent a yacht with the money they saved and invite their friends into the pacific. It would be their last trip before they graduate from students to full-fledged adults. It is also a chance for Shougo to confess to his long-time crush, Toujou Tomoyo. The group sets sail from Tokyo Bay and into the Pacific Ocean when they happen across an uncharted island. Seemingly uninhabited with the exception of heavy vegetative and tropical growth, and a sea teeming with fish the group anchors their yacht and makes camp. Everyone pitches in, building cabins out of branches and leaves, fishing in the ocean for food, gathering the tropical fruits, and hunting the unusually large population of aggressive birds from within the island. They take tests of courage, roast food over a campfire, share dreams and hopes for the future. The place is like a paradise for them. It was a paradise until a tropical cyclone sweeps away their only means of returning home. Stranded, and without means to communicate with the outside world the group of friends' long sought after vacation has become a nightmare. The test of time begins to take its toll on the island's newest inhabitants, and one by one they begin to lose hope of ever returning home. Tomoyo quickly becomes a burden, failing to hold her end of her tasks and earning Maehara Ryouko’s ire. Finger-pointing turns to shoving and opinions to arguments, solidarity crumbles and the group splits into two. Ryouko, having grown impatient seeing Tomoyo pampered for her mistakes and never owning up to her failures takes her own group and leaves. The separation brings temporary peace, but strange things begin to happen at night. A cacophony of howling and laughter sound throughout the island, and each group faces a danger worse than isolation—themselves. Position-specific Notes *Notes here do not reflect that positions in bold above are unneeded. Please fill out application even if your position is not listed in these notes. Writers: Two routes to be written, one for each heroine. Composer: Looking for composers able to play any of the following: Flute, Piano, Ukulele, Percussion. Artists: Sprites (11 characters), CG, Background, Title Screen, UI. Programmer: Capable working with and have experience in Ren'py or other visual novel software. Design UI, title screen, Configuration screen. Sound Designer/Editor: Generate and create sounds and noise for purpose of immersion. (IE- birds, ocean waves, motor, SFX, etc) Additional Notes 1. Potentially Short-Medium in length. 2. As the 18+ tag implies, this story will contain content for the mature audience. Anyone under the age of 18 will not be permitted to participate in this production. Wraiths of Ivarholdt Genres: Drama, Fantasy, Action, Kael Craster is the leader of the band of sellswords called the Wraiths of Ivarholdt. Seven years ago when the clan was originally called the Ivarholdt Raiders, Kael was but a junior member in the clan having been taken in after he was orphaned during the Michar-Forissimo War. He had known bliss and love from his fellow clan mates until one day the Wraiths were indiscriminately hunted and slaughtered by orders of the king himself. Kael and Darrik were the only survivors, having been absent from the camp for a hunting trip. Present day, the war has ended in an armistice and Kael has peacefully rebuilt his clan, naming it the "Wraiths of Ivarholdt" in honor of his former comrades. However, that peace is short lived. News of the hermit King Michar leaving his castle to negotiate a treaty with King Forissimo reaches Kael’s ears. It is an opportunity he would not let go. Revenge begins to stir in Kael's mind and little do his new clan mates know their lives have now become a means to commit regicide. Enter Wiles Tressante, the protagonist of our journey and the Wraiths’ newest member. He is a spy from the neighboring kingdom and ward of King Forissimo tasked with kidnapping the daughter of King Michar. Life with the Wraiths becomes like a dream to Wiles. He finds within them camaraderie he’s never shared and a family he’s never had. His mission becomes a distant memory to him. But as the nature of Kael’s true intentions grow more visible, the tenuous accord between each member begins to shatter. Wiles discovers that he isn’t the only one with something to hide. Old grudges open new wounds, the tangles of lies tighten, and the very person he is supposed to be looking for may not exist at all. Position-specific Notes *Notes here do not reflect that positions in bold above are unneeded. Please fill out application even if your position is not listed in these notes. Writers: Six routes, common route. Composers: Looking for composers able to play any of the following: Flute, Piano, Percussion, Violin, Sing (chorale), cello. Artists: Sprites (Six main characters) (~15+ supporting/side characters), CG, Background, Title Screen, UI. Programmer: Capable working with and have experience in Ren'py or other visual novel software. Design UI, title screen, Configuration screen. Sound Designer/Editor: Generate and create sounds and noise for purpose of immersion. (IE- sword clash, walking, fire, SFX, etc) Additional Notes 1. Potentially Long-Very Long in length. 2. The routes withinWraiths of Ivarholdt will not branch. They will be "arcs" and follow right after the other. In other words, it will follow one large linear path with multiple arcs, one focusing on each character. The story is designed this way such that, unlike traditional otome/bishoujo, the characters will experience the impact of the arcs preceding them. 3. Depending on the success of this visual novel and the continued commitment of the production group I intend for a sequel. 4. Kickstarter/Crowd Funding TBD Specific Recruitment Directors and Writers to work on genres: Otome, horror, comedy, skit, mystery eroge(18+). I am looking for a director and writer who will not be working on the above projects, but will instead lead projects of their own. Preferably a writer who has their own story in mind. I will lead the production for you on your end. Web Producer/Webmaster: Design and manage multiple websites to improve relations, increase publicity, and keep updates for public to see. Make sure to complete the form below. https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1HYJAXlJVDt_6V68zDbBxYRT5X4oDUcrH-7RwOoSURNw/viewform
  5. I have written my first story on Wattpad, here is the link for it https://www.wattpad.com/myworks and I hope somebody can read my story and tell me what you think about it.
  6. So this is my latest attempt at writing an space-opera story, its heavily derived on the first Dune book, Muv Luv Alternative, Legend fo the Galactic Heroes and even, surprisingly Overlord, it shoudn´t be immediatelly obvious, but they are all here, oh did i mention Vandread and Macross? yea, that too! Warning: It can take a while, but certain chapters i wrote can be considered sexual, but i don´t think i wrpte explicitly, im a horrible erotic writer, i know because i´ve tried. For now i will only post the prologue and charpter 1, so people can read it in parts and make specific critiques. No worries tough, no +18 yet. Please note there maybe quite a few grammatical or structral errors in my writing, just know im aware there are, but i coudn´t find them, and try to be costructive in your critiques, thank you. Prologue: It was a clear day on the Galactic Institute of technology and Social Sciences of Sahyr, founded upon on the 10th anniversary of the Sayyanid Revolution, the room was full of people, of all species and creed, united to learn more about their world and their times, the class was History 6, on the period from the conquest of Sahyr by the old Sultanate, to its subsequent decline and rise of the Sayyanids Caliphate, and a personal biography of their leader, Caliph Sayyan, the first of his name. The professor was no one other than Omar, a personal friend to the Caliph himself, and the persn Rayyan himself said "not even my wife, Sara knows as much of me, mysellf included, than Omar. Lucky yo, he´s an historian.", Omar was a old man, by the standards of the Sahhos, who could live through 180 standard years, he towered impressive 201 years worth of experience, and there was was, doing what he did for the last 160 years, studying and teaching history to anyone interested. He entered the room full of young minds "all this potential stored, all those species, when it was that i became such a powerfull man?" he thought to himself, he cleared his throat, his voice wasnt as good as 20 years ago, but he coudl still talk powerfully, the mere act of clearing his throat was enough to bring all the attention to himself, he has seen this thousands of times, and never got tired, not even with 160 years of experience. He then began his lecture: "There are aways those who say "the era of revolutions is ending" and again and again they are proven wrong, revolution is an idea so powerfull, that its cannot simply "die", its resilient to the worst kind of totalitarianism, and that, i think, is the reson why we shoudn´t ever forget the Rayyanid revolution, of course, it wasn´t any kind of totalitarian state, the Sultanate was becoming progressively more liberal, and at the time of its end, there was even talk of abolishing slavery, but to Rayyan, to all those brave Sahhossi, who fought against the tyrany of deprivation of freedom, the mere thought of being aslave and give their intelectual energy to the humans or anhy kind of species, for that matter, was abhorrent." He paused, looking at his students, for a moment he wished Rayyan was there, looking at him with expectant eyes, to what he had to say, his eyes full of the unique potential that all genius, no matter the times, seems to have. Then he saw someone lifting the hands, an young human female, redhead, his favourites: "Come one, don´t be shy, ask away." She looked at him, she reminded him of Sara at a young age. "Do you think even the Caliphate will suffer a revolution one day? I don´t mean to sound disrespectful, but the way you talked, it reminded me that of the revolutions the old holmeworld of my species, Earth, has gone through, you words seems specially true, but do you think even the Caliphate will resist revolutions?" Omar just smiled, the young, aways forgeting their place, but it coudn´t be helped, it could be blasphemous fo her, but if it was a blasphemy then he was guilty of it then too, may God have mercy on his soul, because he thought it was an excelent question, he just smiled and said: "If you pay attention to my lecture, about this, you may be able to reach the anwser this yourself, and the you respond your own question, and hen write a book when you are a few hundreds lightyears from the Caliph Suer-Secret Police, okay? I would love to read about it." Everyone laughed at how easily he got ot of the situation without being explicitly rebelious. He laughed as well, remembering the old time. Chapter One – The Governor Emir Rashid, the Governor-General of Sahyr, was feelling lazy today, this backwater planet full of an entire species of hippies sure was a handful, the mere amount fo letters denouncing, very eloquently, mind you , how wrong was slavery ona multitude of different philosophical angles was absurd, all of them was directed to the Sultan, of course, but none of them actually get trough, he coudnt trouble his Sultan with meaningless debates, slavery was a legal and long-standing traditon of the Sultanate, those abolitionists can´t simply transform centjuries wort of culture debating alone, they should just accept their luck and live on, pleasing their masters wth their great minds, or try to rebel and save him the efort of taking care of them a... "Sir? Are you alright?" The Emir finally opened his eyes to see a young sahhossi servant, he aways found their head protusions very ugly, but ne ver comented on it, he was hated enough already by the local populace, he couldn´t spare govong more mtoives for them to rebel because he didn´t liek one of their facial features. Then he talked at a very tired, slow-paced voice. "Indeed i am, dear servant, indeed i am. I was just...lost in thought, that´s all. What do you want Emil?" The youngster, had the apearance of a human child, humanoid generally, they werent so very different of a human, well, if you didn´t took into account their enlogated heads, where thehy stored their big, powerful brains (yes, plural, the Sahhossi had not one brain, but 3 of them, that worked as one as a node-brain, capable of multitasking at very efficient level) "You´ve asked of me, to bring ye some coffe and biscuits, i hope it is of your satisfaction, i´ve took in consideration your previous grievances with the strongness of your coffe, tis time i think ive reached perfection relative to you standards." Damn, Emil was no more than 14 years old, was a child by Sahhossi standards, but like mst Sahhossi, he talked like an human adult, rich vocabulary and complex sentence structure and all that, talk about being premature, worse, he complained about the coffee no mroe than 3 times until now, since he began asking his servant to do it, he was irritated, so , even tough the coffe was quite good, if a bit too weak to his taste, he cmplained saying ikt was the worst coffee he had ever tried, on the fourth try he achieved just that, perfection, this was one of the ebst coffee he had ever experiemented, the flavour was like a rich forest of different sensations, he coudn´t help but o smile at Emil. "This was a masterpiece Emil, sorry about b eing so strict before with you, i was lashing out on you, so i made unreasonable demands to you, your coffe was quite good, but i ask of you to make this everyday to me, could you do that?" Emil stoic expression didn´t change, but he nodded. "Certainly sir, do you have anything more to ask of me, i´ve already planned the nest 3 days of work and i wish to begin right away." "Certainly, but Emil, don´t think i have ever seen you smile, why?" "Even if you let me be completely honest with you, and promisse me not to get offended, you would still get offended and punish me for suposed 'insolence', so i prefer not to talk, its that alright to you? Sir?" Ugh, that last "sir" was quite loaded with sarcasm, wait, Sahhossi could be sarcastic? Damn, not even a week on this end of the galaxy and someone was already sarcastic to him. "No, that´s ok, go o..." But there was no one there "fuck, i just began working here and people already hate me..."., dejected, he then looked at the next letter, it was one of those white paper letter, written not on hand, but using typography, the author was very meticulous at drawing ot the letters so he coudn´t be indentified. It wasn´t the last time this guy sent a letter to the emperor, on the fourth letter, the author just infered from the lack of response, that he was being censored, so he began adressing the Emir directly: " Good Morning As praxis demands, i request once again that slavery should be abolished as the immoral and unethical activity this is, condemned even by Allah. But that will not work, right? You are saturated with such philosophical essays about it, and even after such eloquent texs explaining why is it wrong, you still insist upon refusing to debate tnhe issue, so be it, the time of asking has ended. Yours truly, Yanyra Expect me." "Oh great, now i have to deal with yet another rebellion, abslutely fantastic" he thought. But if rebelions happned everyday on the Sultanate, what was that feeling of fear in the bscure parts of his mind? Was that going to be diffent?
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