well, isn't he just adorable?

his avatar switches pose to pose, arms and hands flowing into their natural positions. and, uh. other things bounce. he's evaluating the physics of the game if anyone's to ask. it'd been something of a mistake to have pushed the character sliders to their absolute maximum when he'd been creating DIONISIA, the loveliest pink-haired dragon lady this side of the map.

a little too much of everything everywhere, but at least the glams look good.

the fashion in this game never really looked good for the male models and forget about talking about those flat fuckers that didn't want to be objectified or whatever. half the joy of being an online character was being objectified, but saying as much doesn't really make him palatable. that, and—rumors, of course, that he's been anything less than gracious to new and departing members of the game.

his model straightens up again with another cheerful kick of the back leg as he idles around in someone else's guild hall, looking about as conspicuous as anything.

not that one.

not that one.

mm, that's beginner gear, but a custom hairstyle.

potential there, but he's looking more for someone to carry him: ah. maybe that one. all shiny and nice.

he'd do.

skipping up alongside the veritable stranger, rainy taps out a quick message in greeting. not too strong, unless he gives the impression that he'd be into that kind of thing: HIIIII. ♡ are you lking for a party? heehee! ive been trying to get someone to go with me to the new raid dunj but no one will help me! ): isnt that so saddddd?

casper linton

he doesn't hate the game.

you can't have any good reason to hate a game. it's all binaries and strings of code that shape structure and mechanics, which either work or they don't.

he can be mad about bugs.

he can't be mad about if those bugs have all been tested out and it comes down to human error and execution, which does mean he can and does hate the losers playing it. crunch, and rainy's already rifling through a crinkling bag to find another chip to replace the last one.

crrrrunch! and he's swiping oily fingertips across a keyboard as he watches his character cross the screen to defend one of the towers in a lane that'd been left open by one of his other teammates.

"hey, sure, leave it to the healer to fuckin' have to defend towers." he didn't even have good skills for this. all the items that he'd grabbed from the jump were basically useless with a stupid jungler. he'd spent the better part of the match trying to resuscitate an idiot that didn't know how to friggin' dodge a clearly mapped attack and then half of the other team was made up of fucking bots but he couldn't punt these jackasses out of his own team without—wait. where's the top lane going?

he sprints across the map, hastily typing out a message as he maneuvers his character to kite around theirs.

"ARE YOU THROWING?"

"ARE YOU THROWING?"

"ARE YOU THROWING?"

Mark Cunningham

in another life, he might've been an actor.

rainy hums, his voice elevated to a light titter and chirp of a sound. hips sway, and a fluffy cardigan sits low on his narrow shoulders. beachy, blonde waves sit inconspicuously on his shoulders as the elastic of a strap snaps in a minor adjustment. heels sit low to the ground as he lifts a hand to his mouth, sleeve pressed against the corner of his lips as he searches the crowd for a would-be employer, middling somewhere between curiosity and confusion, before he spies the few identifying features he'd been given in a flurry of messages: a god-awful chunky looking bracelet that belongs somewhere back in the 1990s.

if dee is trying to keep from standing out, the big sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat is not working.

"pft!"

it's like the way those kids dressed up in movies, trying to be as unnoticeable as they could be while they played detective. was that what this was? a one-day improv job with no clear specifications means that someone needed someone to play a part and do it convincingly at a visible enough place at a visible enough time. it wasn't that dee needed a meet-up—they needed: "hiiiiiiii!"

he waves with an elated smile, allowing his arms to fall back down to his sides as he almost skips his way over to the table. shadow is cast as he stands with his back to the sun, punctuating his greeting with a girlish giggle. not a fake girlfriend or boyfriend from the way that they were dressed. would've been given a backstory if it was something like that to fill in questions.

maybe just a body to warm a seat? could've been a friend. a co-worker? easy to contrive. that might've been easier than it would've been do go with something complicated like an arranged meet-up to exchange something. questions, questions—

he wouldn't have taken something that didn't at least seem interesting. hopefully dee would make it worth his while. time, and monetarily.

"aren't you just so cute today? heehee," hands press into his cheeks, the tip of his tongue peeking out to punctate the point. "you didn't have to dress up just to see mika!"

Fenelle Miller

it seems like all that glitters is gold here.

in the gleam of monitor blue, an outside observer watches as this would-be casino bustles with activity. waiters pass with drink-laden trays as guests bustle to and from in either direction, their necks and wrists heavy with pearls and gold. their wallets, lighter.

audio crackles over the receiver, the speaker, as a blonde woman manages to eek out a winning bet at a roulette table. crunch, as he dusts off his hands of the remaining salt and pepper on his fingertips away from his keys. a security camera at the easternmost wall whirs.

it scans the room, indifferent, until the camera lands on a ghost of a girl: spun starlight and ruby.

crunch, as rainy snacks on another chip, then dusts off his hands again. hasty fingertips swipe oil across a trackpad. "what is she—tch." he'd been pretty clear about it, hadn't he? all she had to do was play like a normal person. no tricks, no gimmicks. if she was at least half-way to a decent player, then she would've suffered just enough losses and just enough wins to pass for someone that belonged here. in this sea of opulence, she is more pyrite than she is gold.

he realizes that pretty privilege does exist, though. it does a lot to mask those dead fish-eyes and that personality of hers that reminds him of a wet paper bag.

"stop! stop that!" he barks through his microphone, his voice shrill as it carries over the respective speaker. "are you stupid? are you trying to make them mad? at least count less obviously, would you?"

cassidy

taking with cassidy!

RAINY HUYNH

"COME ON, BIG DADDY! I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME?"

there's rainy huynh, who literally helps program rockets to safely launch into space. and then there's rainy huynh, who has seven trainer's eye profiles and his fingers in nearly every inconsequential database known to hoenn. programmer, problem-maker, self-declared honeypot: he thinks he's the smartest person in the room and he'll make sure that you know that he is. happy to be an unambitious and anonymous lackey that does the grunt work, rainy doesn't have grand ambitions of making it big, but he does dream of having more monetary value than most government employees ought to.

PLOT HOOKS

DON'T YOU LIKE ME?

I'M CUTER THAN LITERALLY ANY GIRL ON THIS EARTH

catfishing's not easy work, he'll tell you that much.

do you know how much work goes into faking thirst shots? do you know how many squats he has to do for those pictures? the photoshopping? no. rainy spends the better part of his work days scrounging through dating sites and picking out people that he thinks might be easy to convince. the harder they seem, the more that he tries. he's played the part of the stern, authoritative businesswoman; the ditzy, but newly-minted adult; the girl with a checkered past but a golden heart. you name it. maybe he's catfished you before or maybe you're the one falling for it? maybe you know and you're still shacking up, anyway. maybe you even help him take thirst traps for a cut.

IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE

BUT, ACTUALLY, IT KIND OF IS?

yeah, rainy's been working for the mossdeep science center for a while now and he does so quietly. contrary to his everything, rainy makes a point of being bubbly and amicable if prompted. you need a guy to help you carry something somewhere? sure. you need someone to run your presentation by? of course. rainy's a model employee. although, there's definitely been times he's been reprimanded for doing other things while on the clock. you did notice that he's been disappearing a lot more often lately to take these odd calls. sometimes he seems to stay late at night too. and there's been new notices about confidentiality ...

RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY

KIND OF CRINGE TO BE IN ROCKET

save the people who are in charge of him, no one really knows that rainy's involved in rocket and he kind of likes to keep it that way. instead, he operates the way that he imagines most people do in his position in movies. he speaks through a voice modulator, uses a modeled rig to illustrate his expressions and face and uses a number of randomly generated handles. the consistent giveaway is the gratingly high pitch that he seems to favor, the way he speaks in the third person and his apparent willingness to do whatever is asked of him as long as you ask at increasingly pitiful extremes.

PLOT CALLS

AND THEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES

A TIME-HONORED CLASSIC IF I SAY SO MYSELF

kind of exactly what it says on the tin. rainy leads an odd lifestyle, bouncing between work and his place in mossdeep. he takes reasonably decent care of himself for a sweaty nerd by his own admission, but could use an extra hand around the house. this is just to say that he's looking for housemates. no rent, can leave any time you want, no strings attached: just don't go into his room unless he told you to or ask questions about the noises you may hear in the dead of night.

THREAD IDEAS

this is just a running list of possible plots that we can hit the ground running with. may not be up to date. last edit: 6/16.

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER FACE

SLICE OF LIFE FLAVORED

it might be embarrassing to admit, but you've definitely seen that ass before. after a bit of research, you've put together that the same person has been running at least three to five accounts on this site and has been giving you the run-around this entire time. you managed to report all of them and managed to get them taken down ( for your dignity and others! ) when you abruptly receive a message from a new account. no face, just a name and a question of what it is you think you're doing.

tl;dr you reported all of his accounts and now rainy's found you.

THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY IS

ROCKET-ADJACENT, SLICE OF LIFE FLAVORED

some good ol' fashioned vengeance. someone's wronged you. maybe it was something as big as cheating on you. maybe it was as small as mildly inconveniencing you on your way to complete something. you hear that asking this one programmer that they'll do pretty much anything for a minimal fee and that they don't super care the reasons why you do it. in fact, they'll even offer suggestions depending on what to do. after answering his riddles three, you eventually come face-to-screen with rainy, who's more than happy to oblige.

tl;dr got a petty ax to grind? do a few trials first, then he'll talk.

SEEKING A GLUCOSE GUARDIAN

SLICE OF LIFE FLAVORED

maybe you're a mainstay patron of his that knows he's just here to eek out money wherever he can out of you. or maybe, you're new to this whole song and dance only to be encountered by a harmless rainy ( albeit under a different name ) who insists that he's happy to guide you through the the process, contrary to what rumors say about him. or, maybe, you're just here to prove that he's an idiot and more trouble than he's actually worth. doesn't really matter why. he'll call you whatever you want as long as you keep him entertained.

tl;dr you need a fake boyfriend? girlfriend? partner in general? just need someone to kind of entertain you? sure.

[nospaces]





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