Summer Camp Supernaturality // OxO // CLOSED! // MATURE

(If anyone's interested, I'll open this up for stalkers!)

I've really been feeling that sorta 80's-90's summer camp vibe lately. Like– that teen movie, coming of age, more-American-than-baseball-and-apple-pie experience.

But I also really like cryptids.

Naturally, a funky summer camp is a happy medium between the two worlds.
It's super aesthetics-heavy.

So here's the background/plot/whatever the hell you wanna call this:
Any similarities or correlation between the setting of this RP and any real person or place is completely unintentional. Naming a completely fictitious town is a piece of work
SETTING:

• Camp Tiger Claw, Barklett, Tennessee, about 30 minutes out from Jackson. June, 1996
• CTC is situated on "Frog Spit" Lake, as it's known by locals, and, like Dorley as a whole, is plagued by rumors of a "beast" loitering on its grounds (and a plethora of other unsavory things). The cabins are not coed, like many other camps, and the two divisions of cabins are split by a shallow drainage ditch bisecting that part of the campgrounds.

PLOT: Character A arrives at the camp as a first-timer,somewhat forced into attending by tired-out parents, only vaguely aware of Barklett's reputation. Character B (who is fully aware and invested in the rumors) has been attending this camp for years now (in fact, they're on the path to become a counselor). It's a normal summer camp experience for the first few days– until there's a mysterious disappearance of two junior counselors. Of course rumors spread like wildfire. Character A & B team up to investigate, hunt down, and hopefully crack open the mystery of Camp Tiger Claw and the Barklett Beast.

Ideally, I'd play B in this situation! This plot is in no way rigid or set in stone, and I'm completely open to new ideas. As for expectations…

• Romance is negotiable. It can definitely be that teen movie experience, I think that would be super fun!
• LGBT characters are completely welcome, of course!
• For the love of god, if you're going to post anything potentially triggering, fucking tag it. I don't want to get triggered. It's not a fun experience. Clear it with me first, I'll do the same.
• I cuss a lot. Feel free to cuss as well. Slurs are a no-go.
• Gore and blood/violence are definitely possible in this. I will tell you at the beginning of the scenes, but this is a blanket warning.
• When asking to join, please provide a recent (short) sample of your writing (RP or otherwise)
• Characters should be between 16-17
• I reserve the right to reject your character. If they are mary sues/gary stus, described as supermodel levels of attractive, or feel flawless, chances are, I will reject them. Thank you for understanding.
• In the template, voids marked with a tilde (~) instead of a dash (-) are optional. If you don't use a space, trim it out!

TEMPLATE TIME!
This is kinda hefty, but she's easy to fill out! Links really are encouraged!

NAME
Nickname(s)?~
AGE
GENDER
ORIENTATION
APPEARANCE
Height/Weight-
Build-
Skin tone-
Skin details-
Eye color-
Hair color-
Hair texture-
Hair length & style-
Facial hair~
CLOTHING STYLE (Include links if possible!)
Everyday outfit-
Swimwear this is a weird one, but this is set on a lake -
Form or Function?-
Piercings?-
General vibe/aesthetic~
What style bag did they pack in?-
PERSONALITY
Traits-
Fears-
Likes-
Dislikes-
Strengths-
Weaknesses-
INTERESTS This whole thing is mainly to help your character get fleshed out! It's all optional.
Hobbies or talents-
Favorite…
Band/Artist-
Food-
Animal-
Music genre-
Movie-
BACKGROUND
Any health conditions (physical or otherwise)?-
Family…
Parents-
Siblings?-
Pets?-
Extended family (To the point of relevance)?-
Social class-
State/City/Town of origin-
Native language-
FUN FACTS!

This seems extremely intriguing, may I?

Yeah, ofc! Do you have a sample of your writing?

Lé sample-

The Reaper boredly watched the human walking to their unknown demise. The allyway dark, and the only light coming from the sliver of moon high in the night sky.
A rat scutted by, earning a look of disgust from the Reaper. A moment of distraction, and before she could look up again the shouts erupted. She sighed deeply, breathing in the sour smell of the alleyway, and walked to where the shouts came from. A few vagrants here and there, but none looked at her.
Only the dead and dying could see a reaper. See Death as it came to claim them. But that was the title of the Grim Reaper. Not hers, she was just a reaper. Plain and boring.

Ooh, I'm a fan of your style! You're green lit to join! Do you want this to be a romance? I'm personally more comfortable playing male characters, and I have a character in mind for this RP already!

Ah thank you so much!
I love Romance RP's so if you're chill for it so am I. I'm more a custom to playing females so it works out perfectly! I'll try and get the template all filled out tonight, but it's extremely late so it might get held off till tomorrow. Is that okay?

Alright, dope! Take your time on the template, I know she's quite the beast! You're OK with playing character A, yeah?

Totally! How much knowledge should my character have of the place? Like did she look it up before hand or just go off information given to her from her parents? Or some other source?

So this is roughly '96, so I'd say that she probably got the baseline knowledge off of her parents! Maybe through a pamphlet or something, so they wouldn't exact know the whole deal with the rumors. Although she may have also done a little research on her own.

(Lots of links in this one, sorry!)
NAME- Rockwell Anderson
Nickname(s)?~ Rocky
AGE- 17
GENDER- Male
ORIENTATION- Straight
APPEARANCE-
Height/Weight- 5'11", 153 lbs
Build- Lean, best described as a "swimmer's body"
Skin tone- Tanned from sun exposure
Skin details- Heavily freckled across entire body, especially face, shoulders, and arms; constantly bruised/scraped knees and legs from falls; noticeable dark circles
Eye color- Amber eyes that appear gold-ish in the sunlight
Hair color- Deep brown
Hair texture- Wavy
Hair length & style- Medium length (chin), usually either worn loose or held up in a hair clamp
CLOTHING STYLE (Include links if possible!)
Everyday outfit- Shirts tend to be souvenirs, and his shorts are usually fairly loose and high-waisted on him. Rockwell's shoes are usually a dirty white from long-wear, his favorites being a pair of Adidas sneakers.
Swimwear- Basic green swim trunks .
Form or Function?- Function, but he definitely takes form into consideration as well
Piercings?- N/A
General vibe/aesthetic- A sort of earthy ghost-hunter type vibe, lots of dark tones
What style bag did they pack in?- A JanSport backpack covered in various bottle cap pins and collectible buttons.

PERSONALITY
Traits-

• Gentle giant (Not so giant, just tall)
• Non-confrontational
• Loyal
• Genuinely chill as fuck
• So incredibly cuddly

Fears-

• Bees
• Drowning in the deep end of the lake
• Needles
• Horses

Likes-

• Sour & savory foods, dogs (especially big dogs), music, collecting bottle caps, hand-me-down clothes, exploring (anywhere- forests, cities, etc), road trips, earthy colors, ugly sweaters

Dislikes-

• Huge crowds, sudden/loud noises, milk, invasions of privacy, being touched, tight clothes, cooking, neons, misplacing things, seafood, grape flavored things

Strengths-

• Creativity, fast learner, honesty, patience, able to get incredibly focused on one task, limiting his stimming to something less 'noticeable' (he doesn't like having to do it, but he's good at it nonetheless), good at working alone or in small groups, fairly good at diffusing situations/conflicts, detail-oriented

Weaknesses-

• *Cannot make eye contact, awful at understanding sarcasm, easily disoriented during sensory overload, bad at recognizing severe danger, multitasking

INTERESTS
Hobbies or talents- Playing the guitar (he owns an Epiphone acoustic, and it's one of his most prized possessions), collecting things (bottle caps, buttons/badges, hats, etc), singing (not a stranger to leading campfire songs)
Favorite…
Band/Artist- The Cure, David Bowie, Alice in Chains
Food- Pizza (He's a fan of pineapple on pizza)
Animal- Hyena (thank The Lion King for that one)
Music genre- Rock/Grunge
Movie- Dead Poets Society

BACKGROUND
Any health conditions (physical or otherwise)?- Mild autism (Rockwell's gotten pretty good at 'blending in' and not showing this, however)
Family…
Parents-

• Cyrus Anderson (Father, 40)
• Lynn Anderson (Mother, 39)

Siblings?-

• Molly Rose Anderson (Sister, 7)
• Grant Anderson (Brother, 19)

Pets?-

• A yellow lab named Blondie

Social class- Suburban, middle class
State/City/Town of origin- Barklett, Tennessee
Native language- English

FUN FACTS!

• Famous quotes include gems like "Everything is edible, sometimes you just die when you eat it and that's on you." and "Dude, I got a fucken' huge mosquito bite on my ass."
• Rockwell packed multiple disposable cameras, quite a few snacks, and his favorite baseball hat.
• Mildly allergic to celery
• Has been attending Camp Tiger Lily since he was 9 years old (Minimum age is 8, though they don't usually interact with the older campers until ~13)

NAME: Vash Carter Adams
AGE: 17
GENDER: Female
ORIENTATION: Straight
APPEARANCE-
Height/Weight- 5'3 137
Build- skiny for the most part but has some pudgyness to her stomach.
Skin tone- relatively pale
Skin details- light freckles that are scattered just across her nose and cheeks. A small mole on her jaw
Eye color- light green that looks almost brown in dim lighting
Hair color- Ebony
Hair texture- straight
Hair length & style- reaches just to her collar bone, can often be found in a pony or down.
CLOTHING STYLE (Include links if possible!)
Everyday outfit- enjoys shorts that are rolled https://www.pinterest.com/pin/818810775989899263/?nic_v1=1bhhlOUy%2B1rVX%2Br5ukX%2FiRzdPyftW2di1uO5etKLbzMZrVH3mJZpHcDFtCqSiixdmz
And shirts that fit loosely. Normally tie dye or just plain colors.
Swimwear this is a weird one, but this is set on a lake - loves 1950's swimwear https://images.app.goo.gl/EfPNrJj9hUXTtoHTA
Form or Function?- kind of both.
Piercings?- her upper lobes of her ears, just plain studs.
What style bag did they pack in?- just your every day old beat up duffle back
PERSONALITY
Traits-
·Sarcastic as Heck
·will fight you
·Actually kinda nice
Fears-
·fish
·pitch black darkness

Likes-
·soft things, stuffed animals, music (but doesn't sing) calm nights, blankets, reading, most indoor activities
Dislikes-
·outdoors, big animals, getting tricked into thinking something is soft but isnt, her step father, overly friendly people
Strengths-
·can lie on the spot, good at sneaking around, actually pretty creative,
Weaknesses-
·puppy eyes (basically if someone is begging her for something she's bound to give in sooner or later) loud noises/loud places, (they make her start to shut down if prolonged)
INTERESTS This whole thing is mainly to help your character get fleshed out! It's all optional.
Hobbies or talents- can tell a pretty good story
Favorite…
Band/Artist- green day
Food- pineapple actually
Animal- frogs
Music genre- punk rock
Movie- the hunchback of Notre Dame
BACKGROUND
Any health conditions (physical or otherwise)?- has a trick knee (when running to much, or putting to much weight on it, it will give out)
Family…
Parents-
(Step father) Rob Denson (46)
(Biological mother) Mary Denson (41)
(Biological Father) Blake Adams (38)
(Step Mother) Blair Adams (36)
Siblings?-
(sister) Alice Ray Admas (11) (twin to Richard)
(Brother) Richard Louis Adams (11) (twin to Alice)
(Half brother) Lucas Snow Denson (3)
(Step brother) Aston Aaron Denson (15)
–
(Half sister) Alisa Adams (6)
(Step Brother) Samuel lee Right (12)

Pets?- two cats, one black and white named princess, and one tabby named kitty
Social class- middle
State/City/Town of origin- Haywood
Native language- English
FUN FACTS!
· Ate a love letter in middle school
· Was arrested once (attended a protest with friends, wrong place wrong time kinda moment)

(Anything I need to change and or add? Also I would like to say that the template was surprisingly fun to fill out.)

(I love her. Like, I deadass had a grin on my face reading that. And thank you, I love making super detailed and specific templates! She's great! I can already see some conflicts between the two, which I think will be perfect.)

(Yeet. I low-key got super excited when I saw he liked pineapples and then was like, I k ow who I'm gonna use djchdnndbcn. any way, ready when you are.)

(Yeah! I'll get the starter posted soon!)

(This is by no means an indicator of how long your responses have to be, lmao, it's just a starter)

That day, the lake air was thick, hot, humid, and positively buzzing with swarms of those blood-sucking mosquitoes. Ticks clung to the trees like flies on the flypaper in the dining hall. Birds chirped and sang their little hearts out from his nests, high and mighty above the rest.

Buses from all across- well, anywhere, seemingly- rolled in, dumping out swarms of kids from their gaping maws. Some parents drove their kids instead of leaving them to the hands of fate, mainly the littler kids, and they were preoccupied with taking photos and giving hugs and kisses and lathering their children up in sunscreen.

And Rockwell Anderson had just climbed out of his own bus. He shouldered a heavy-duty backpack on one side, and had a purple sleeping bag (that smelled weirdly like grape flavored soda) swinging from the other. Headphones on his ears, Walkman in his pocket, Rocky felt good. Well- he always felt good at Camp Tiger Claw, for the most part. There was just something about it, about watching the short summer showers evaporate off of the asphalt in mere minutes, about dunking (and getting dunked) into Frog Spit Lake, about.. everything, really. He tugged his baseball cap down, trying to better block the harsh glint of sunlight reflecting off of cars.

Vash carter Adams had been looking forward to getting to spend her summer her way. Hanging out with friends, getting dumped at her mom's house every other week, and just having plain stupid fun. But Rob had someone managed to get her and other rest of the Adams kids sent off to camps for the summer. "It would be good for them. Just look at how pale Vash is," that had been his claim. And to her absolute luck the younger ones got sent to a three day camp. There was no one here she knew.
Vash muttered a curse, hoping that Rob could some how hear it over the miles and miles that separated them and hopped off the bus. She stretched out her sore limbs, grabbing her duffle back and hoisting it over her shoulder. She had crammed even her sleeping bag inside it somehow. The poor thing was bursting at its seams.

Rocky caught glimpse of a girl whose bag looked like it could split apart at any moment. Rookie mistake. He thought to himself, snorting slightly. First order of business: check into camp. Get cabin. Put stuff down before anyone else so you'd get first dibs on top bunk. The stuffier air was chump change compared to the fact that you had an eagle's eye view over the whole cabin. All.. four bunk beds. Including your own. Sweet.

Rockwell was one of the first handful of kids to get in line at the sign-in table. Simple procedure. Step one- wait in line. Step two- sign in on the clipboard. Step three: Get your cabin number. Easy. Luckily, Rocky was an expert at this, and usually knew the general page his name was on. Those translucent green clipboards normally had 5-ish pages each, and he'd be on the first one. The perks of having an "A" last name, he guessed.

Vash found herself close to last in line. She'd of course spotted the overly eager ones who practically darted for the line, and the ones like her, who didn't seem to happy to be there.
The day before she'd left Rob had went on and on about how amazing his camp was. Apparently his son had attended it a few years back and loved it. Which was surprising hard to believe considering Aston was a lot like her. Proving her point even further, he wasn't here with her. Vash and Aston got along relatively well together, so she was a little upset to discover he'd be spending the summer with his mom, and not at a summer camp with her.

The line moved along at a steady pace with the occasional hiccup. Probably a kid who had no idea what they where doing. But Vash couldn't blame them, she hadn't a clue either.
While she waited, her attention was drawn to the lake. The light reflecting off was almost blinding. At least there was one thing she'd enjoy, swimming.

(How should we have them meet up?)

Cabin 3, the Possum cabin, whatever you wanted to call it. That was Rocky's cabin. Thank god, too, because that one was tricked out. And by tricked out, the cabin had one of the few window units in the whole camp. And also no bugs. Supposedly. (There was an opossum family living underneath it one year, but…). Rocky stuck on the sticky Hello! My name is… nametags given to them at check-in, fixed his bag on his shoulder, and headed off towards Cabin Number Three.

Lucky bastard, he was the second kid to arrive. Meaning his prized top bunk was open. Hell yes. He said a quick hello to his cabinmate, a quick introduction, and began to climb the ladder to claim his space as king of the cabin. He unrolled his sleeping bag on top of the plastic sheets.

(Hmmm, a summer camp I've gone to a few times kinda shoves guys and girls in the same cabins. Do we wanna go with that? Or possibly something else?)

(That'll work, sure!)

After being given her cabin number Vash set off to find cabin 3. It honestly shouldn't have been that hard to find, but with her horrible sense of direction it took forever. At one point Vash ended up at cabin 20, and then slowly worked her way back down in till she finally found it.
By the time she'd arrived the others had already claimed their bunks, leaving her with the last one.
She actually didn't mind having a bottom bunk. The thought of having to go up and down a ladder didn't seem all that tempting. Besides, if she had to go to the bathroom in the night at least she wouldn't fall from the top.
Not bothering with hellos or introduction, she began getting her sleeping bag from the crammed duffle bag.

Rocky was already getting acquainted with new friends, and rekindling friendships with old ones. Clearly going here so many times had its perks- he wasn't stuck being a new kid with no friends. Hell, even the counselors knew him. He looked over at Vash- one of the only people he didn't know, much less recognize.

"Hey! I'm Rocky." He gave her a smile, taking off his baseball cap to ruffle his hair before sticking it right back on. "Is this your first time here? Don't recognize ya." He had that classic Tennessee drawl to his voice, sickly sweet and just a little slow. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt- today's choice was his favorite alien shirt.

"Yup," Vash kept her response short. It's not that she didn't want to make friends and talk to people. But much rather the fact that she had already decided to be miserable the whole time. She did after all, have a point to prove to her mother about how Rob didn't know what was best for her. If she came how grinning and talking about how much fun she'd had, Rob would start some stupid speech.
As an adult he did have some idea of what was best for her, but Vash would never admit it to his face.
She continued to fight with her sleeping bag, confused as to how it'd gotten so twisted up. It wasn't like she'd smacked it around. It had just gotten stuffed in with everything else.

(I’m so sorry about that gap! Some things in life took a fat nosedive, but I’m feeling better for the time being!)

“Cool! Cool. Cool.” Rocky repeated a couple times, trying desperately to prop up this conversation. “Um- where are you from..?” He tried, taking a bit to watch Vash fight her sleeping bag.

“Oh- hey, do you want help with that? I can help with that, if you want.” He looked at it again. “It looks.. twisted.”

(Totally chill! Make sure to take care of yourself first!)

"Haywood," Vash dropped the edge of the sleeping bag, taking a beep breath. "Haywood Tennessee." She forced a smile to her face. Just because she wanted to be miserable didn't mean she had to make everyone else miserable too. Perhaps having fun wouldn't be the worst- she shook the thought from her head.

"No. I'm good, thank you." She looked at the twist, that she'd only made worse, and groaned. It took a few more seconds before she'd found the twist out. Laying it flat with a satisfying sigh.
"And you are?" With the sleeping bag untwisted, her mood increased slightly.

(Thanks for being so understanding!)

"Haywood… don't think I've ever been there.. or heard of it. Small place?" Rockwell took a seat on one of the cubby-bench combinations on the wall. He pulled at the stretched out collar of his shirt, still watching Vash work her sleeping bag.

"Oh, you got it undone. Good job." He nodded, taking a moment to register Vash's question. "Huh? Oh, wait- are you asking for my name or where I'm from? 'Cause I'm from here. Barklett."

Vash shrugged, "not really. Just kinda far." She chucked her blanket on top of the sleeping bag, along with a pillow. Her duffle bag looking wilted without all the bedding stuffed inside.
"Either or," Vash carter Adams shrugged again.
There was something almost satisfying about beating a sleeping bag- even if it did look a bit mangled still. She turned her eyes to Rockwell for the first time since entering the cabin, noticing how tan he was. Obviously a lover of the outdoors, she thought to herself.

"Yeah, that'll do it." Rocky tugged on the back of his shoe, bringing it up on top of the cubby to retie the ragged laces. "Oh. Alright, yeah, in that case, I'm Rockwell. Anderson." He stuck his hand out to shake Vash's hand. "But I'd like it if you just call me Rocky. You?"

"Vash- Adams." She usually refrained from telling others her middle name. She'd always gotten crap from everyone for it. 'that's a boys name, why would your parents give you a boys name?'Just thinking about it made her want to roll her eyes.
"So, Rockwell. Camps your thing?" She raised an eyebrow.