Welcome to my DBD "Doctor" Herman Carter roleplay blog, coming to you from within The Fog!
General warnings for mature and violent topics. Death, torture, maiming, and medical (mal)practices may be described or spoken about. He's also a Freak, so...
DMs are open! Mun doesn't bite, as nasty as the muse can be at times.
Interaction encouraged! Questions, comments, roleplay starters, additions to my solo posts, etc are all eagerly welcomed.
Anyone welcome to interact, including OCs.
Mun is all pronouns.
Anything with "//" in front of it is OOC - so, me, the mun, speaking.
Mun is not a doctor, psychologist, or scientist, so things I say may be inaccurate - though I will be doing my best to research what I'm talking about, and have had classes in some relevant subjects.
Sometimes slow on replies. I have 8 gazillion blogs to tend to.
ＴＡＧ ＬＩＳＴ:
#Your body / my temple -- literate rp responses
#An incoming call -- (ic) ask responses
#Put a bookmark in my DSM -- solo posts
#You people make me sick -- shortform rp responses
#Freaky creatures / monster party -- additions to others' posts
#Ask meme response
#Ooc post
ＮＡＭＥＤ ＡＮＯＮＳ:
TBD
ＷＲＩＴＩＮＧ ＰＡＲＴＮＥＲＳ:
lepus-vacui (Elliot)
xxxlostinthefogxxx (Ram)
ＴＨＲＥＡＤＳ (ＩＮ ＬＯＲＥ ＯＲＤＥＲ):
I DON'T TOLERATE THIEVES -- first meeting w/ Elliot
[TBD TITLE] -- first meeting with Ram
ＷＲＩＴＩＮＧ ＥＸＣＥＲＰＴ:
The sound of a generator being completed was just another buzzing in his ear. He didn't care. No, no, this was far more important. He'd completely throw this trial if need be, he didn't give a damn! He could take whatever punishment he was thrown for it.
He herded Fairfield towards the meat plant's bathroom. Nasty, germy, horrible, vile, horrible, horrible place - but an effective one to box him into.
And it worked.
Herman's skin crawled standing in here, mind screeching at how unsanitary and disgusting and EVIL the place is, but his skin crawled and his mind screeched most days. It was easy enough to ignore.
Dwight stared at him, teeth bared as if the little mite had fangs, and he clearly expected to be hit - but Herman just stood there. He needed a second to stop giggling and actually speak, but he lowered his baton to his side. He wasn't going to hurt him.
... Yet, anyway. He might. He probably would.
Once he'd gathered himself, he swallowed the excess of spit gathering in his mouth so he could talk without drooling on his coat.
"HELLO, CAMELLIA," he greeted, and he compulsively giggled a little again, but abruptly forced himself to stop. Focus, focus, focus! Calm! Calm yourself, Carter. Calm, calm, calm, calm, clam. Clam. Clams. I don't like clams. Slimy, disgusting creatures. I don't understand why people eat those, they're vile. Vile like the way this place smells and feels. Clams should be a poor man's food for how vile it is, but no, they're a delicacy. A delicacy I don't understand. Just like caviar. Gross, gross, gross--
After my hysto, I was in *intense* abdominal pain that didn't feel like wound pain from the ablation but something different that I couldn't explain, until the gynecologist told me "yep, that'd be your intestines rearranging themselves into the gap left behind by your uterus."
So there's a mental picture for you. Slither slither. Slither slither.
“Oh your! Frightening! Uh, hello, I’m, uh Well i’ve settled on Ram for now.”
A survivor The doctor doesnt recognize moves forward. They jerk their shoulders unnaturally, their voice interrupted by soft clicks and the sound of electricity, seemingly a sound made by them.
- @xxxlostinthefogxxx
It wasn't often that Carter left the Léry, but this was meant to only be a short trip - just a quick wander into the Fog to go steal some things from the Hawkins Laboratory. No one really used the place, after all, outside the Demogorgon... who certainly wasn't going to be fiddling with any science equipment. Herman could make much better use out of those things!
But, on his way to disappear into the dark Fog and let it take him where he intended, someone suddenly spoke to him. He would've blinked in surprise if he could, but he couldn't, so he just stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at the person.
A new survivor, it seemed. Interacting with him, outside of Trials? How rare! And peculiar! His face wasn't exactly one that most people were keen to speak to - especially not newbies.
He giggled, intrigued, and tilted his head curiously. "WELL HELLO, THERE, RAM," he screeched, eyes flicking over this new persons' features, hands clasping behind his back. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE, SO FAR AWAY FROM THE CAMPFIRES?"
“Exploring mostly. The *Campfires* get kind of boring every now and then.” The way they say campfires is odd, it’s exactly the doctors voice, another twitch. “And then i got well….Lost…and I have been trying to, uh meet, everyone around here. Survivor or not, know thy enemy or something.” They shrug
The keep a decent distance between them and the doctor, but they don’t seem too fearful, wether their brave or stupid remains to be seen
When they mimicked his voice for that one word, a brief shrill shriek, the Doctor snickered. And that with their general twitchiness, it seemed they had some sort of tic disorder, or something similar. How interesting. He'd never seen that in the Fog before!
"KNOWING THY ENEMY IS A WONDERFUL IDEA," he agreed with a grin.
... Which he always had, but even if he didn't, he would be grinning now.
"THERE'S A REASON MY BEST GIFTS FROM THE ENTITY ARE INFORMATION FILES ON THE RESIDENTS OF THE FOG. KILLERS AND SURVIVORS ALIKE! THEY'RE VERY USEFUL."
“Could i trade you to see mine, I have something you might be interested.” From a small leather bag they pull out some cold eyedrops, full, and unopened. “Stole these off of wesker, wasn’t fun.” they shake it a bit to entice him. They’re very much hoping that he has something to help jog their memory.
Ram offered him something, a bottle of liquid, but Herman wasn't quite sure what. He couldn't see it well enough to be sure. But whatever it was, even if it was something he would want - he couldn't do the trade.
He hissed through his teeth, then laughed.
"WELL, YOU SEE... I DON'T HAVE YOURS YET, SILLY!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together once before clasping them behind his back and leaning forward towards Ram - a bit too close, and more down to their height. "THESE THINGS TAKE PRECIOUS TIME TO GET. I HAVE TO EARN EACH ONE, AND GIVEN THAT YOU'RE BRAND SPANKING NEW..."
He shook his head. "I HAVEN'T GOT IT. AND I WON'T FOR A WHILE! PROBABLY. POSSIBLY. MAYBE!"
They do step back a bit giving him space “Well, I can leave em here as a show of good will for when you do get em. They are eyedrops by the way i realized you probably can’t see.” Their tics get more aggressive as he gets closer, the only indication that his presence makes Ram uncomfortable at all.
Glowing, white, wide eyes bore into Ram's soul, staring. Watching the survivor tic was amusing the same way watching an insect flail around as it was immolated was amusing.
The luminescent pupils glanced down at the bottle in the survivor's hands, apparently eye drops, then back up.
"WHY, THANK YOU," he said, honestly, and took it from their hand and into his own, much larger, scarred one. He flipped open the pouch on his belt and dropped the bottle in. "IN THAT CASE, I'LL BE SURE TO GET YOU YOUR FILE ONCE I ACQUIRE IT."
Not before he'd had a read of it himself, of course, but a trade was a trade! And he cared astronomically little about this person and their story. He figured their file wouldn't be one he was biting to keep, so in his eyes - a fair deal!
Dead By Daylight Evan "The Trapper" MacMillan roleplay blog. Created Oct. 25th, 2025.
"... H'roo. This is Evan MacMillan speaking, from within The Fog.
I've been here a long... long time. Longer'n any of the others you're more used to seein'. Long enough to be unrecognizable to myself, long enough to memorize the sound of everyone's screams, and long enough to never be able to get the red stain of blood off my hands.
But that's enough of that - that's all y'really need to know, kid.
Just stay outta my way, you hear? You may be faster'n me, but I don't need to be fast with what you'll run yourself into. Hapless maggot."
IᑎᖴOᖇᗰᗩTIOᑎ
Mature topics warning.
All are welcome to interact, including OCs. My DMs are also open.
Evan is from the 1930s - specifically, born 1897 and taken 1935, so he is stuck at 38 years old. Mun is NOT from the 1930s and may get specific details about the era wrong... I can just chalk it up to Evan's memory issues.
Mun is all pronouns.
Evan is 6'4", and also fat, because I say so. Got some art of his build that you can reference from.
Evan is horribly dyslexic and never properly learned to read, so any communication he does over this app is heard by him and responded through a radio he repaired.
Outside of trials, the MacMillan Estate maps are of course all combined into one, but he still doesn't have the manor. He has a forge, and he does have a spot in the foundry that he sleeps in, but he doesn't have a proper house.
Sometimes slow on replies. I have 8 gazillion blogs to tend to.
TᗩG ᒪIᔕT
#A radio transmission -- ask responses
#Muscle and blood -- solo posts
#To you with stained hands -- literate roleplay writing
#Ask meme response
#Reblog
#Ooc post
Woof, this is a doozy, because I didn't properly tag stuff before. This was my first RP blog ever, in my defense, and I've learned a lot since I started this one. So... organization starts from now! Yikes.
