Welcome to Gaia! ::

This section will explain the RP in more depth, as to help you, the player, in navigating my humble little world.

As you may have figured out, this is a home for magical creatures who happen to have mental illnesses. The variety of mental illnesses a magical creature can get is no different than that of a human; both forms of mind are equally susceptible. Likewise, the creature does not even need to be humanoid in shape, nor does it need to think, act, or speak on human terms. A basilisk is just as likely to think it's a dog as a human, though it would be admittedly difficult to diagnose such a thing in such a creature.

The scope of magical creatures that can be played is likewise limitless. As long as you can describe what it is and provide some background on it with a level of clarity, it will be acceptable. While I will not tolerate the invention of new creatures, I will accept any created subspecies of a known creature type. For example, nymphs come in many varieties, usually attuned to nature. It is not difficult to imagine and industrial evolution, however, which could potentially result in a cement nymph.

As far as canons are concerned, I will play the role of Mister Bojangles, and Fredyryk will not be playable. I will also be accepting two nurses and one doctor, but they can be customized as you please. I will also accept a warden and a chef. Profile skeletons will follow this synopsis.

Meals and the like will be brought to your character at appointed times unless you are a more stable patient, a visitor or traveller, a doctor or nurse, or me. Patients are forbidden to exit the mansion, and will be stopped by a warding spell if they attempt to do so. This warding spell was woven by Fredyryks himself, and the magic is nearly as old as he is, meaning the chances of a magic-using patient breaking it are infinitesimal.
Entertainment for less stable patients will come as follows; the warden will bring along books to hand out to the patients, to be read on at a time. Also, the warden will allow 'Social Time' once a week; in this event, the patients will be let out from their cells to mingle in the undergound hall as they please, with the warden carefully watching. They will not be permitted upstairs. Social Time lasts for one hour, but any form of social interaction is acceptable. Once the hour is done, patients are put back in their cells. Any patient interaction that is both pleasant and sustained may result in the patients sharing a cell, as that bond may help in their rehabilitation.

For more stable characters, meals are held three times a day, in a dining room accessible from the library, and the dining room may also provide midday snacks. There is a gramaphone in the library, as well as several sheets of paper and various pens, brushes, and paints for entertainment. The lobby also serves as a common room; there are a few chairs present, and more stable characters can interact here in a more casual manner.

At the upper level are the rooms. While each stable character (with the exception of Mister Bojangles) has his/her own room, visitation between rooms is permissible, but any inopportune mishaps can be dealt with personally by their inhabitants. If you walk in on someone getting undressed, that person is porbably going to find some means to punish you. Also on the upper level is a pull-down door in the ceiling that leads to the attic. There is one chair and one couch in the attic, as well as a magical window. This window allows the viewer to see any part of the outside world, when the location is spoken aloud. Be warned, though, that this room used to belong to Fredyryk; any stable patient caught using this room will be sent to the lower cells for one week the first time, one month the second time, and until rehabilitation the third time. Likewise, if a patient from the lower levels somehow manages to get in the attic, they shall be punished with removal of Social Time priveleges, loss of food or drink, or other punishments as deemed by Mister Bojangles or the warden.

Violence is not tolerated on the upper levels and will be punished as fitting to the degree of violence. Violence is acceptable on the lower level during Social Time, though patients are not allowed to kill one another. That being said, a patient can be beaten within an inch of his/her life during Social Time and will only be acknowledged by being permitted a visit from the doctor and one or both nurses.

The doctor's duties are to examine patients, offer psychiatric treatment, report any results to Mister Bojangles, and treat injured patients. The nurse's duties are to assist the doctor in his duties, hand out medication and food to patients, and monitor patients for delinquent behaviour. Should a nurse discover delinquent behaviour, he/she is to apprehend the patient/s causing the problem until they are to be punished. The warden's duties are to aid in the apprehension of delinquents (as above), monitor and control the lower cell environment, and deliver punishment as needed to rowdy patients of the lower level. The duties of the chef are obvious.

Play nice, children; you're going to be here awhile.

Rules

1. No god-modding of any way, shape, or form. Any god-mod-like conditions of the mansion are designed for the sake of gameplay and character development, and do not entitle a player to alter them.

2. No flaming. This is a roleplay designed for amusement and play, and no insults or criticisms will be allowed to be publicly displayed. If you have beef with someone, take it to the PMs.

3. Sexual acts are allowed to be implied, but not directly described. The emotional aspect of such interaction can be described in a vague and poetic sense, but physical and/or graphic description will not be tolerated. Again, if you want to take it to that level, take it to the PMs, where it's your business and not ours.

4. Please keep events within the RP to a rating suitable for the general public. This RP is designed for a teenage to adult audience, granted, but we cannot rule out the possibility of unintended viewing. At maximum, NR-17.

5. Do not swear nigh-constantly, unless it is part of your character's persona.

6. Character death is not allowed without the consent of the person you are killing, with the exception of any severe punishment delivered by the warden or Mister Bojangles. Anyone whose character ends up dying may make a new character and start playing again.

7. Please try to post as regularly as possible. If you must leave for emotional problems, medical problems, work, school, or any other difficulty, please inform us. Your character can be considered having a mental breakdown and confined to their room until you return. Should an unforseen event stop you from posting, we will assume something happened and put your character in their room as above, expecting an explanation upon your return of the circumstance.

8. Absolutely no one may enter the other lower level but Mister Bojangles, unless permitted by Mister Bojangles. The statue which leads to that level can only be moved by Mister Bojangles.

9. Fredyryk cannot be played. Just reminding you.

10. If you wish to quit the RP, please tell me, so that Mister Bojangles may deal with your character in an amusing and gruesome manner.

And now, Mister Bojangles' profile:

Name: Real name unknown; prefers to be called 'Mister Bojangles'
Age: Unknown
Gender: Assumed to be male
Race: Wraith
Racial Traits: Can become incorporeal at will, levitate and navigate freely through air, can sense death when it occurs or when it is about to occur.
Appearance:

Weapon(s): Can summon a scythe, a shovel, or a dagger at will.
Bio: Nobody is quite sure of how this wraith came to be, or why he exists. The only clues to his identitity or his Cajun accent and his connection to Fredyryk. If asked about his past, he will claim he is from New Orleans, and that he met Fredyryk on 'unusual circumstances', deciding to help and move to the mansion.

The roleplay is now open. Post your profiles, then play as you please!

(Note: You do not need the technical term for your condition, just a description. Likewise, answer Mental Stability with a one-word descriptor, such as Chaotic, Untreatable, Violent, Recovering, etc.)

Mister Bojangles stood behind his mahogany desk, singing softly to himself in his raspy, Cajun tones. The sun had barely begun to rise, so all the patients wer still asleep.

Well, all the patients on the upper level, that is. Mister Bojangles didn't know about anything that went on in the lower levels unless it was reported, or unless he went down there himself, or unless someone died.

"She'll be raddin' six what ho'ses when she comes... She'll be raddin' six what ho'ses when she comes..."

He was whittling, as he often did when there was nothing better to do. He whittled people out of small chunks of wood, and had whittled one for every one of his patients. His deathly hands used the dagger with utmost precision; not a movement was wasted, and every stroke added character to the figure.

This current project was unusual, as his inspiration was random. The clump of wood in his hands was beginning to take the shape of a female humanoid of some sort, but it seemed the shape of a dog was emerging from her back... From within the wraith's hood, only his yellow teeth were visible, and they smiled in a wicked crescent, the harvest moon in blackest night...

He'd be adding another to his collection today, he just knew it...

"She'll be raddin' six what ho'ses, she'll be raddin' six what ho'ses, she'll be raddin' six what ho'ses when she comes..."

"Tha dooah is wahd open, honeychile... Come rat on in 'n make yisself comfeh. Ah didna' lokkit, 'cuz Ah knew asummun was comin'."

Mister Bojangles laughed a bit to himself; it was a wheezing, dry gasp of a sound, like the last breaths of several corpses compiled into a twisted mockery of laughter.

He set the chunk of wood down on the table; it was complete now, and the dog figure was hugging the girl it was attached to. Mister Bojangles watched the door eagerly, awaiting the newcomer with glee...

"So it's voices in ya head, is it? We can take care'o dat... Tell meh, honeychile... Does dis voice tell you to do things? Can it actually make you do things? No presha, girl... Take ya sweet-a** tahm tellin' Mistah Bojangles all 'bout it."

Mister Bojangles was not a creature inclined to sitting; it was why he stood behind his desk. There was a stool behind the desk for anyone who covered him while he performed other duties, but Mister Bojangles did not care for it one bit. One could tell he was making himself confortable, however; he seemed to recline backward in mid-air, as one normally would on a Laz-E-Boy. Apparently, he took his job rather seriously, even if he speech said otherwise, and his interest in their condition was genuine.