This is the Punching Role-Play. In this role-play, your goal is to punch. Merely socking every innocent bystander in the gut is worth puny amounts of imaginary points (though doing so is, of course, still worth points). Your true goal is to seek out the most prime punch-worthy adversaries in the universe and sock them as firmly as your fist allows you to. That annoying celebrity would be a nice target. A Goron would be pretty cool too. The deity of chaotic destruction would be worth millions of points, most likely. Most often, however, you will not necessarily be punching anything, so much as interacting with your fellow punchers. (Coincidentally, you are forbidden from punching your fellow punchers due to a secret guild pact that you've all agreed upon several days prior.) The vast majorities of your adventures will be whimsical, stupid, and perhaps somewhat nonsensical. The ultimate goal of your adventure is, of course, to punch God. So good luck with that. Your character is probably just some dude (or some chick, if you roll that way) who happens to be a young adult with a fondness for plowing his fist into others. No actual description or characterization is necessary, but you may at least want to have some kind of a name for your fellow punchers to call you. That is, unless you fancy just being called, "Guy." Regardless, everyone is starting in a certain cheaply-furnished second-story apartment in the average town of Averageville, in the midwest of the United States. This serves as your unofficial headquarters. Some of the items inside are gaudy bean bag chairs, old video games, a punching bag, and plenty of glass doors and windows through which punching is possible. What, you want more information? Rules? We'll make this shit up as we go.
Some guy happens to be sitting on some beanbag chair in some apartment, his head hanging over the far edge of the makeshift seat. With his eyes staring at the upside-down door at the opposite end of the living room, he waits impatiently for one of his fellow punchers to exit the bathroom. This is the appointed time on the appointed day... evening... an orange sun glistening in from the patio glass doors. He silently wonders just how many of them will even show up. The young man's foot taps with mild annoyance on the hardwood floor beneath him, displaying for all to hear his eagerness to make with the punching.
A certain person whose name remains unknown certainly not due to anyone's laziness in not naming him but in fact because he was slightly mysterious. Not as mysterious as he was going for, but his cryptic yet blunt (as in like being bashed with, say, a fist) communication did make him more mysterious than the average guy. Focusing all his strength he pummeled the bathroom door that stood between him and... The other side of the bathroom door. As he jumped out triumphantly shouting "XYZZY!" in a mysterious yet rather obnoxiously loud fashion. After the ominous rumbling caused by saying such a word had stopped he proceeded to walk to the nearest window, punched it, and smiled happily.
