For thousands of years, humans have been studying the never-ending expanse of the night sky. Those who believe in the omnipotent teachings of the oldest eyes in the universe are labelled as dreamers, but there is more truth behind the stars' tales than one could possibly imagine. At first glance, they don't seem to have much of an effect on anyone, but the stars are always shining, listening, and watching, especially in small towns. It's towns like this where everyone either has a secret to keep or a story to tell, and people seem more than happy to share. Welcome to Silver City, New Mexico, where dreaming is believing, and the stars have much more power than we think. Tracked tags: #sbannouncement, #sbfollow, #sbstarter
Hello, Starbright members; unfortunately, I must be the bearer of bad news in this announcement. After long consideration, Admin T, A and I have decided that it is in the best interest to close this roleplay. As the end of the school year approaches, each of us have our fair share of chaos in our lives at the moment that has simply taken over and left no room for maintaining Starbright. From schoolwork to extra-curricular activities to finding time for ourselves every once in a while, the three of us agreed that it was time to let Starbright go and focus on other important things in our lives. The time spent polishing and perfecting this roleplay is no longer available, unfortunately, and it is with deep regret that we notify you all of our decision. If you'd like to continue your plot lines and such, the three of us cannot stop you from doing so, however your character will simply no longer have any ties to Starbright. I know for a fact that the three of us will miss our darlings Hillary, Finn, and Ruthie, but most importantly miss all of you, both ic and ooc. We just want to thank you all from the bottom of our hearts for making this roleplay such a wonderful experience and sincerely wish you all the best of luck in the future, wherever it may take you.
She has definitely gone through my head a lot (especially now with The Host hype going on)! I’m assuming you’re suggesting her now so I’ll write her down for you. :)
Male OCs, definitely! Once I figure out the updated female-to-male ratio (which is after I do the activity check), I’ll talk to S and see what she thinks about possibly reopening female OCs. :)
Oh, Ana. You are perfection as usual. While I didn't personally write Matt (Shout-out to Admin T for writing swag-ass characters!) I still do indeed love him dearly. I know that Admin T would be head over heels with your portrayal of him, and I'm sure she'll read over your audition later tonight and cry to herself and listen to Adele and be in the bath. Also, A+ for using Napoleon Dynamite in your para sample.
Name/Age: Ana/22
Time Zone: EST
Why are you auditioning for this character?: I think I just like high schoolers. idk what my problem is. But no, I see a lot of myself in Matt, in that I also knew that I could have done really amazing things if I'd put my mind to it in high school, but I just got complacent with my situation and settled for scraping by on the bare minimum. I'd like to see Matt do better, doggone it.
IC INFO
Character Name: Matt Kingley
Para sample (Two paragraph minimum, third person, in character.):
This recliner was his best friend. His mother had retired the La-Z Boy from the living room when she bought a new one, and though it was worn and there were coffee stains all over it, it was his new baby. He'd parked it right in front of his 42 inch flat screen TV, his old, dilapidated bean bag chair at his new buddy's side working as a makeshift table. He'd been home from school for about an hour now, but all that meant was that he was an hour's worth in the hole when it came to his Cheeto supply. The big, plastic punch bowl that he'd snuck from the kitchen and filled to the brim was sitting snuggly in a dent in the bean bag chair, while Matt was sprawled out in the recliner, one leg tucked under him, while his head lolled to the side, against the back of the chair, as he stared at the TV. Napoleon Dynamite. How many times had he seen this movie? Too many to count, he was sure, since the box was old and slightly sticky from the soda rings, since he'd used it many-a time to hold his cans up, and it lay haphazardly on the floor, still open from when he extracted the DVD. He'd probably trip on it, and then it would be kicked under his desk with all the papers and dust bunnies that had collected there, a place he'd been meaning to clean, but it just wasn't on his list of priorities right now.
Matt blinked heavily as he watched the orange Napoleon had thrown splatter across Uncle Rico's windshield, and he managed a short laugh through his mouthful of cheesy processed snacks. That reaction was priceless. But as the two were fighting, he heard his phone go off, which caused him to emit a little groan. He wondered who it was, or what it was for. Without taking his eyes from the screen, he reached over, hand falling right in the middle of his Cheetos, sending some on the floor. Great. But he found it, swiped over the screen and checked it out. "hey dude did you study for this test, i'm so fucking screwed i don't know this shit." Test? What test? -- Oh right, the Chemistry test they had tomorrow. No, he hadn't studied, and that's how he replied-- a simple 'no,' before backtracking and adding on 'i'll give you a few answers tho, might as well share the wealth.' He wasn't going to study-- in fact, he hadn't studied in years. There was no need, he always passed his tests. His tests were his best grades, and that always baffled his teachers. They'd always bring him in after class, sit him down, and have the same conversation:
"Matt, I just don't understand. You rarely turn in homework and classwork, your note taking is... well, just… definitely not up to the standard you should set for yourself, yet your tests are always at least a high B. I'd almost believe you were cheating if the others around you were making better grades than you were, but I'd almost like to encourage them to cheat off of your paper if they would make the same mark."
How many times had he heard that? Too many to count. He always just nodded at the teachers, perhaps looking a little too bored, all while he thought ‘Why does it matter? I’m passing, aren’t I?’ He dropped his phone back on his makeshift table and shifted in his seat, crinkling his nose in mild discomfort. Now he's lost his spot on the chair, and he felt cold now. Just great. Pausing the movie, Matt put the foot rest down and stood up, stretching his arms over his head until he felt various joints and vertebrae pop and relieve a little of that built up tension. Laying around was hard work sometimes. Making his way to his book bag, he opened it up and pulled the homework out that needed to be turned in in the morning. English assignment: a two page essay on some of Sylvia Plath's poems. Why would he want to write about some chick who stuck her head in an oven? Pass. Tossing the book of poems to the side, he dug a little further. There, at the bottom, was a crumpled up piece of paper with a familiar stamp on it. With a frown, he pulled the paper out and smoothed it out over his desk, setting it directly in the middle before taking a step back to look over it.
"Congratulations, Matthew Kingley! We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Western New Mexico University!"
Of course he'd been accepted. Who wouldn't have been? He thought that getting the letter would at least be a bittersweet moment, but it was much too bitter, not nearly sweet enough. Pulling his desk chair out, he sat, legs sprawled out in front of him as an arm hung over the back. He let his fingers smooth over the wrinkled, frayed edges of the paper he'd so carelessly thrown in his bag once he'd gotten it in the mail. How many others were resigned to this fate? Settling for a second-rate university, because they were much too preoccupied with themselves to actually think about the future? He remembered being thirteen, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to attend the University of Michigan. The College of Engineering. He'd be a nuclear engineer. That was his dream as a kid. He was going to wear a lab coat, a pair of safety goggles, and he'd be the one who'd create a device that could not only safely create nuclear energy, but harness it and convert it into a sustainable form of energy, with no harmful effects on the environment. Less pollution, lower oil prices, he'd change the world for the better. He would have found some way to do it, he just knew it. Squinting down at that paper, Matt felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Where was that kid now? If he saw Matt the way he was now, would he be disappointed? Would he be angry that he'd squandered his future away, simply because he preferred the works of Stephen King to Charlotte Bronte? Because he preferred watching Adult Swim to National Geographic? Sometimes he’d take a moment from his day to think about this, to really reflect, yet he couldn’t muster up the energy to feel remorse. Just bitterness, that same old bitterness that came and went like the morning tide. And then he was back to his regularly scheduled programming.
"Matt, dinner's ready!"
Perking up, Matt peered to his closed bedroom door, then to the bowl of Cheetos sitting beside his recliner, and the paused DVD. He’d been sitting here for over an hour, mulling over these thoughts, and now he felt as if there were a black cloud hanging over his head. “Shit…” Shaking his head and reaching up to ruffle his hair, he brought himself out of his slump, and though he still felt bitter, the feeling was beginning to ebb away. There was no point in dwelling on such things, what could he do about them now? He'd chosen this. Rubbing under his nose, he pushed himself back up onto his feet with another stretch. He hadn't even eaten, yet he was feeling sleepy. Shoulda had that post-dinner nap, he inwardly chided to himself, but it was too late for this, so he trudged out into the kitchen where his mother greeted him with a smile, one he returned, before sitting at the table in front of his plate. Dinner, the rest of Napoleon Dynamite, and then sleep. He could do his homework before class during roll call, it'd only take about fifteen minutes, tops, especially if he spaced his words out.
Rose, I’m currently bowing down to you for your patience and perseverance with all of this. Not only that, but your flexibility and willingness to delve further into Sloan’s relationships. I really appreciate the way you see her family, something that’s always been important to her character in my eyes, but you also brought even more personality and life into the role. Thank you for your time and effort with this audition, and I can’t wait to see what more you bring to Sloan!
Name/Age: Rose/you know me! :3
Time Zone: CST
Why are you auditioning for this character?: ;_; because I love her so much it hurts.
IC INFO
Character Name: Sloan Adams
Para sample (Two paragraph minimum, third person, in character.):
Ah, nice warm blankets; hidden beneath the ocean of comforter and fleece, she was in a world of clouds and happiness. Light as air, happy as a clam, everything was perfect--
And then her alarm clock went off. Sloan's eyes snapped open to greet the ceiling as the loud, obnoxious buzzing of her alarm clock shrieked above her head. Her body screamed, as it did every morning. Stay in bed! Don't get up! Your legs will break and you'll turn into jello and you'll spontaneously combust! No, don't get uuup! But no, none of that happened as she threw the covers off and rolled out of bed. Even if her body was hesitant to leave her warm little next, her brain was already racing a million miles a second. She practically ran to her dresser, pulling open the drawers and digging through them. A pair of jeans, a black undershirt and one of her favorite green and pink shirts with the funky slashes in the back. She grinned; it was going to be a good day, she just knew it. She grabbed the rest of her clothes and trotted off to the bathroom. After a quick shower, getting dressed and brushing her teeth, she darted back to her room, stopping at her closet and staring down at her collection of shoes. Vans and Chuck Taylors greeted her, but which did she choose? The green Taylors would better with my outfit, but do I really want to wear high-tops when skating today? The Vans might be the better bet. I guess that depends on the weather, but I dunno', I think I've broken the Taylors in enough to keep the canvas from restricting movement--
"Sloan! Did you die up there? Breakfast is ready!" She hated to have her decision rushed, but she snatched up the green Taylors and shut the closet, tugging them on before bounding for the stairs. She took them two at a time, nearly biffing it on the last bound, but managing to stick a landing. Too bad no one saw it, it was pretty impressive. She made her way into the kitchen where her parents and Bradan sat; it was still weird, even after a year, of Finn not being there in the morning. Of course, seventeen years of existence and suddenly something changes, of course it's going to be weird. She tried not to think about it, grabbing a seat where a plate of bacon, eggs and pancakes were waiting. She reached out and grabbed the syrup, pouring a decent amount over both the pancakes and the bacon before digging in.
"You went to bed pretty late last night, Sloan," Her mother pointed out nonchalantly, though her brows were raised in slight concern. Sloan swallowed a mouthful of food, grinning sheepishly.
"Yeah, I was watching this Discovery Channel thing about animals in the Amazon forest." She glanced over to Bradan, pointing her fork at him. "Did you know that there's like, 200 subspecies of poison dart frogs? And they can kill someone in like three minutes just by touching them." She knew by the small smile on her brother's face that he probably already knew that; of course he would, he loved science things.
"Oh, so is that what you'll be writing your science paper on?" Her father peered over across the table at her, eyes brows raised skeptically. She looked up at the ceiling and pouted a little; she knew he'd been concerned about that paper since she mentioned it, since it was a huge part of her grade, and for once she'd been at a loss at what to write about. But, she slowly grinned, glancing at the man again.
"Nope, I started writing it last night during the poison dart frog thing. I'm doing mine on the cone snail. They're found a lot in Australia, and people just pick them up thinking they're regular shells to collect. And then they use this liiiittle harpoon-thing in their tongue, and it injects them with poison, and there's absolutely no cure for it because it's this ridiculous cocktail of neurotoxins that affect so many different parts of the body, so the only way to keep someone alive is by keeping their respiratory system going." She nodded; Bradan was peering at her with interest, which only made her feel that much better for knowing it; at least it was something they were both interested in, which was always pleasing to her. "Anyway, there wouldn't be so many cases of people getting stung by them if they'd learn to leave the environment alone."
"You wouldn't pick up a nice-looking seashell on the beach?" Her mother asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically, though the corners of her lips were turned up in a smile.
"If I were a native to Australia and I was in an area notorious for cone snails? Nope. I'd poke it with a stick first, if anything!" She nodded, and her mother laughed, even her father grinning a little.
"'Atta girl," he mumbled, before looking over at the clock. "You guys better get a move-on, or you'll be late."
Sloan's eyes glanced to the clock as well, and she began scarfing down her food, nearly choking on the last bite. Her mother came by to pat her on the back, giving a typical "Chew before you swallow" mom response. Sloan jumped up from her chair and took her plate to the sink before heading for the living room. She stopped at the doorway, glancing to her mom, as her dad was already on the move to get ready for work.
"Hey, mom, a couple of us wanna' go to the park after school, so I'll be home a couple hours later, alright?" She gave a hopeful little smile; it wasn't like her mother would say no, though. At least, not without reason. Her mother nodded, giving her a stern glance.
"If you're going skateboarding, take your helmet," she chided. Sloan resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Mom, the helmet's stupid! I'll be careful--"
"You need to take your helmet and wear it, Sloan. They don't make them just for you to look at." She knew there was no arguing her way around it, and since her mother was the one paying for these things, it was best to at least pretend to go along with it. She sighed and nodded, giving a small smile.
"Fiiine. But next time we go to the shop, can we get a better-looking one? I don't like the one I have."
"We'll see," her mother replied warily. Sloan swayed on her feet a little, picking absently at the wall.
"Is Finn coming home this weekend?"
"I don't know, sweetie. I think so, but you know how college kids are."
"Well... If you talk to him, tell him he needs to come over soon or I'm going to go to the college and embarrass him in front of all his friends." She nodded, trying her best not to pout; sure, it was still fun with Bradan around the house, and she loved him to death, but... Well, Finn was her big brother, and she missed him. And she especially hated how down and out he seemed to become after that stupid chick Karen dumped him. In Sloan's eyes, she didn't deserve an ounce of her brother's love, not after how much he was suffering because of her. But Sloan was going to fix it, somehow. She was going to drag him out of his funk and show him that he was way too good for that skank. Because, hey, Finn was her big brother and if she were in the same boat, she knew he'd try to help her out, too. How she'd help him was a completely different matter, one she was still mulling over when her brain brought the topic up (which was quite frequently).
"Anyway, I'm off!" She flashed her mother a grin and gave her a wave, before running off to the front door. She stopped at the hall closet, opening it up and picking out her board, her backpack and (begrudgingly) her helmet. Once she was outside, she managed to cram the helmet into her backpack and set her board on the floor. She glanced around for Bradan, but he was already gone. Probably off with his own friends, which was fine by her; some mornings, she preferred to actually walk to school with him, but today was a skateboarding day.
The world became a blur as she sped her way to school, her mind on a million different things now. What she'd get for lunch, the moves she'd try out at the park after school, but most of all, that paper on the cone snail. It'd be so cool to go to Australia some day, as a researcher, just to study them and how they functioned. Maybe she'd become an expert in neurotoxins and she'd come up with the cure for cone snail toxin. There had to be an anti-venom, right? Because almost every other creature had one. ...Well, except the stone fish, even morphine couldn't stop that kind of pain, but she'd come up with a cure for that, too. She'd get a nobel peace prize for coming up with two antidotes to two completely different toxic animals. Then maybe she could move onto those pesky assassin caterpillars in the Amazon. But that was a little tricky, since she wasn't quite on board with how they extracted the venom from those poor things. She wasn't sure at that point whether she's be on the side to save and preserve them, or research them for a cure. Maybe she could do both, somehow. Sure, why not?
She rolled to a stop as she reached the school, hopping off and kicking the board up into her hand before tucking it under an arm. She spotted one of her friends, Aspen, immediately, jogging over to her and flashing a grin.
"You went with the chucks today?"
"Of course, I mean it's not that big of a deal, right? It's not like I stood in front of my closet for ten minutes trying to decide." She grinned even wider, before glancing around. "Is Neil here already? I told him I was gonna' burn him some off some of my Green Day music for him to listen to." Of course, that wasn't the only reason she was looking around for him, but she wasn't going to throw in that little tidbit.
"Nah, haven't seen him yet. Come on, let's go study for the history test today. I'm so bad with dates," Aspen ran her fingers through her hair, Sloan immediately recognizing it as one of her nervous habits. That wasn't going to fly with her, seeing a friend upset, and so gave the most reassuring smile she could and patted Aspen on the shoulder.
"Yeah, just let me throw my stuff in my locker," Sloan nodded, making her way over to her locker with Aspen at her heels. She spun the combination in and cracked open her locker, greeted with a huge pile of papers, folders and books. She managed to cram her bag and her board into the confined space as Aspen shook her head.
"How do you find anything in there?" She laughed, and Sloan threw her a small smirk.
"I have my own system. Besides, that's why I have different colored folders and book covers." She held back some papers with one hand, pulling out a bright blue folder. "History." And she pulled out the matching book. "Whatever's sandwiched between the folder and the book is for that class, but not needed, because whatever's needed is in my folder."
"...You have the weirdest system ever."
"Don't judge, I'm still at the top of my game!" Sloan laughed a little and kicked the locker shut. "Come on, let's go kick history in the face."
"I wish I had your morning perkiness," Aspen mumbled at her side, but Sloan was already darting down the hall for the history classroom, leaving her friend to call after her and race down the hall in her wake.
