Ty Shipley

awesome idea

+1 OOC politics should NOT be a swaying factor icly these are two complete different scenarios, the Russian Mob is completely different then the Russian Government IRL.IT IS considerate to not allow russian flags due to ongoing conflicts OOCLY, but if thats the case, why arent other aspects of the server censored? Police conflict is as much as a part of the server as a nationality, yet police conflicts occurrs 10x more and can be more traumatising when you take into consideration the financial and emotional, physical damage being arrested can cause. -weapons as well -gang conflicts

Awesome story Harry, enjoyed reading it!

Amazing RP wtf, the cinematic videos look awesome, favorite part was the video of you RPly hacking into the computer with the hacking overlay afterwards

You look at all points mentioned and then take a look at Mr Harry Valentino's response which summarizes it perfectly. Eclipse Roleplay should be preserving a player base whilst simultaneously improving the quality and integrity of its role-players. As already shown there are instances where reports are closed due it being solved through external platforms with both parties, in which they have learnt from their mistakes and decided to move on. Having said that, the moderators/admins cannot seem to lose the attachment and still want to implement harsh sanctions for members of the community when instead could be using that report as a learning curve, instead of a goodbye to the server. +1

Awesome faction, awesome people in there brothers in there funny as fuck and made the server 10x more fun. GGs, your faction was dominant and crazy successful

This looks awesome. Excellent work on the presentation.

+1 but here we are 671 days later, this needs to be implemented already. I've just been permanently banned for a deathmatch that occurred half a year ago and a second one now, if this was sorted and made existent I wouldn't be banned and the server would be keeping a player who is always active.

+1

I'M TY

Awesome story writing

-1

A Meeting - Gone South They formulated a line, a pristine, immaculate line, a strict colour scheme of fresh green and blood red as the iridescent sunlight cast a shadow behind them. Brothers – as you would call it – they exchanged laughter at humorous moments, and returned to a firm articulate state waiting for the third arriving party. The steel material of compact rifles, .50s and shotguns was broadcasting the raw sunlight, refracting it, as they lay firmly in their hands, ready to be utilized - if necessary. The trees rustled with a soft wind, the kind of wind that combined with a soft array of warmth would be perfect for the scenic moments. But this was not a moment to capture the scenery. This was business that needed a firm and time effective conclusion. And from the corner, arose an array of colors, speeding down the road. The first perceptions: Randoms or undercovers. Consequently, a shirtless man took his mask off and his facial features broadcast who his group was; The Rising Suns. They came dressed in a soft cerulean blue, mixed with pure, snowy white, in a collection of chalk black and navy-blue vehicles. Which contradicted their previous colour schemes, to Ty's attention. He looked over at The Russians, and to no surprise saw a few wrinkles in their masks, suggesting they was smiling. Surprisingly, no steel content was visible in the possession of these people, suggesting they were taking a diplomatic perspective, or perhaps a submissive one. They confronted the opposing party confidently, standing a few meters away, some with arms crossed, some down their side, their blue clothing a possible conveyance of tranquility. Some engaging in consistent eye contact, some looking away. Throughout this mob of people, a few stepped forward from both sides, nodded at one another, and began to talk business. Over the next few minutes, a calm, intellectual exchange of words, ideologies, changes and future plans were implemented into the conversation, as the bulk of both groups sat back and listened. Throughout the chitter chatter, Ty couldn’t help but listen to the crackling of the radio in his pocket. With his curiosity increasing like some form of inducing anxiety, he listened closely to what the radio was broadcasting. What came next was not what Ty had wanted, in fact it was the very thing himself, his green and red counterparts would’ve hated to hear, would’ve hated to occur. “Police. Two cruisers chilling at the entrance and more coming.” And a disheartened feeling was present. Feelings of anger. What if this was a setup. What if- He had no time to think hypothetically. None of them did. With Ty foreshadowing the arrival of cops to the group, they perceived this as their cue to go, and time efficiently. Police Interest The nose-sniveling and extensive interest of the police did not end there, with figures of light grey with body armor approaching Ty and inquiring about the incident. The SD officers were that desperate for anything to stick to him, to the point that they inspected every inch of internal peripheral of the vehicle from the windows. Yet they found nothing. He was off by the skin of his teeth, his .50 sitting snug in the corner of the glove compartment. Moreover, he couldn't say the same for his red counterparts who PD, SD seemed to have taken a particular interest in, engaging in fanatical, high speed pursuits. The night had ended with a swift evasion, in which not a single man or woman in green was arrested, The Russians singular objective of stripping the color red from The Rising Suns proved partially, if not completely, successful. And yet, the looming recollection of what just happened tested Ty's cognitive capabilities. He sat there, pondering how the cops could even have a remote idea this was going to happen when the upmost secrecy was held by The Russians and BSB. There was only one conclusive answer, and that was someone tipped them off, someone led them to this meeting. Ty reached over and retrieved the .50, grabbing it by the leather grip excessively. Any chance of it being his allies or his own family was excluded - leaving one contender for whom it could be.

A Long Awaited Return He held it in his hand. A reminiscent visualization of his time in BSB, crumpled and barely distinguishable, but it was still there, in his hand, it still existed. A picture of his family, his time in an inspiriting environment. Ty still had his old and dusty green clothing in his briefcase, untouched and left in its former glory. But there was a part of Ty, a deep feeling inside to open it and wear the green once again after looking at this picture. He would often look at it, letting it catch his eye and bring back memories. He was thousands of miles away from the integrity of Bridge Street, now in his terraced home in England. He knew what he had to do on this day. He had had enough of prolonging his return, it was inevitable. He reached underneath his bed, pulling out a dusted, aged briefcase. Opening the contents, a green flannel mask and green jumper was folded neatly inside, which contradicted his reckless atmosphere of tossed clothes, unmade bedsheets and washing left on the side of the room; this is what mattered to him. He ordered a taxi and made his way to the nearest airport; Heathrow. Hours upon hours of waiting tantalized Ty’s waiting capabilities, fueling his excitement. He was heading back to Los Santos. He sat down on his airplane seat, and recollected his conflicts alongside his brotherhood, the times they fought against 6ix 7even Spartans, Rising Suns and Goblins. He remembered the times they laughed, the times they lost people. The times that brought The Brotherhood even closer. His body adjusted, loosened to the stiff seat and he began to drift away in a deep sleep, until it was time to wake up, and leave the plane upon arrival. The Airport With a bag strewn over his back, and a briefcase in his left hand, he made his way out of the terminal, passed the tedious and invasive border security checks and headed towards the exit for his pickup, anticipating figures of green to be there for him. To his avail, it was not surprising to see the green dreads of a man he recognized well, and a voice that welcomed him. “Ty. You made it.” They greeted with a warm hug and a firm handshake, and a tint of steel was visible in the pocket of the man he greeted. A hand was extended to a Ty with a .50 pistol in the palms of it, it’s steel refraction gleaming with the sunlight of Los Santos being broadcast on it. The wind was soft, and the bustling of the airport induced Ty like a drug. He was finally back. The man looked at Ty, with wrinkles in his tight mask, suggesting a smile. “So. You back in?”