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Hello forum, and hello people in, on, around or occupying any extant implicate or explicate order parallel, or relative to the space in, on or around the forum. Welcome to here. It is time I re-wrote this. So here I go, putting forth maximum effort. You know how it is when shit just fucking works? I mean when the story is writing itself, and you aren't even certain what's going to happen anymore because it just so alive it just writhes free of any attempt to control or restrain it? I'm here for that. I don't need every story to be like that all the time, because I don't think anyone is that good or that lucky, but it's what I aim for and even if the goal is beyond me I don't grant myself permission to give up on it.
Now this is the part where I tell you about me. Brace yourself.
Oh wait you want writing samples. Here are some fluff pieces I did for the monthly competition; one and two. How about some biographical minutia? I've been writing longer than I want to date myself by stating plainly in years, I used to work as a make-up artist but then COVID swept down from on high all, 'lol, no,' so now I sell vintage fragrances and decants which is fine because it gives me more time to write and I'm trying to get back into doing that for money. As a writing partner I'm rather laid back and easy going, as in welcome to the merry kingdom of, 'it's literally just a game,' and not at all fussed about the things most people who use words like, 'advanced,' and 'literate,' (isn't this one kind of axiomatic?) to describe themselves worry about. What does matter? Well I need more than the simple juxtaposition of whatever World Of Darkness or Dungeons & Dragons style characters you've got so if you tell me you want to do a game involving, say, a Witch and a Vampire I'm going to do something terrible and ask you why. This makes most people flee instantly, but if you're brave enough for the venture perhaps you can explain why the arrangement appeals to you in thematic terms, and I may be able to appreciate it on that basis. Why is genesis in this context.
I hope you found that elucidating and not totally alienating. Now plots. Presented in no coherent order. Sometimes these are just brief synopses and there may be several pages of additional material (which we are under no obligation to use) for anyone who is interested. Alternatively I might just put up a prompt sometimes with no real context because I'm erratic like that. Moreover feel free to present counter-offers, or other ideas on the same theme, or really just anything you think I might be interested in, on whatever basis seems reasonable to you. I like surprises.
Nothing more terrible. Nothing more true: I don't want to go into too much detail here with respect to the synopsis as I have a brief narrative intro and the premise of this game is literally designed to work without knowing anything about the characters or setting. It involves two characters (previously lovers, perhaps, or close at any rate and still inclined to regard one another with a certain amount of vestigial affection although that's not all that important save in the historical sense) who (for many possible reasons although I have some ideas and am happy to brain-storm) can't stay dead. They can die, and have died many, many times, but they always wake up, and without any clear memory of their previous lives. So they are more or less blank slates in moral terms. Doesn't mean they've always been nice people, but in their day they were formidable and respected, or reviled and feared in other lives, but naturally they have no idea of the impact they have had on their world and the people in it. The idea of them having to confront horrible things they've done in the past (perhaps even to each other) should make for some interesting drama, and of course there is the central conflict of regaining their mortality, assuming they want it, and we should contrive matters to ensure they will because goals are nice. Again how this plays out can be open-ended. I have ideas which I'm happy to discuss but am open to input. Moreover since our characters literally know nothing we don't need to waste time world-building in-advance as they don't know so we don't really need to know either and can simply figure it out as we go since that's what they'll be doing. Also as the NPCs must flow they will find people who hate them for seemingly no reason (or very, very good reasons); staunch allies ready to leap headlong into their cause (whether for good reasons or because they were simply duped which could make for some fun conflict; how would a good person feel about using someone who serves them loyally on a false premise they themselves cynically constructed in a life they don't remember?) and all that good adventure-stuff.
And now a short, narrative intro. Appreciate its brevity if you can. I do not normally do short but I'm trying it out for the moment.
There was another plot here but honestly, it's just not a toy I want to share anymore. Watch this space as I will put some new ideas up soon. Like, a month or two >.>
HELPFUL FACTS!
- A notable sage of the modern era once remarked, 'ah dew wut ah wuwnt,' which, translated from her uneducated (but not unwise) patois, means, ' I do what I want.' In that spirit let me say my average post length is as long as I feel like making it, and my posting frequency is as often as I feel like writing. Such things depend greatly on how much you inspire me. Naturally I expect others to be sensible and do the same thing because when it works, well, it just fucking works, right? And I'm in no hurry so I have no interest in trying to hammer things into a semblance of functionality at the cost of great effort.[/tab]
- If you get the compulsion to relate things to me about other games, partners, your schedule, expected absences, morbid and depressing personal issues, etc., have at it. Conversely if you want to go all Mr. Sparkle, and banish me to the land of wind and ghosts, whether on a transient basis - whenever you're not literally in the process of writing with me - or permanently for that matter, for whatever reason you may, or may not care to discuss? That works too. Haven't posted for a month? I'll assume you have your reasons and don't need the added stress of me bugging you. Of course the inverse of this sensible arrangement is that I'm not your writing daddy and I'm not here to push you on the proverbial swing. I'll do my best to inspire and facilitate a fun exchange. If you expect more than that (I don't) then by all means help yourself to some of my unlimited capacity for, 'I'll just go do other stuff.'
- There was a time, far back in the mists of antiquity (and I occasionally get nostalgic thinking back on this innocent period) when I was eagerly flinging myself at anyone who would write with me. Alas, non sum qualis eram. I cry now for madder music, and for stronger wine. All those things most role-players find intimidating (the TLDR plots, the obsessively large and well-developed worlds, casts of NPCs, etc.) are not going to put me off. Actually the alternative is more likely to cause problems.
Now this is the part where I tell you about me. Brace yourself.
Oh wait you want writing samples. Here are some fluff pieces I did for the monthly competition; one and two. How about some biographical minutia? I've been writing longer than I want to date myself by stating plainly in years, I used to work as a make-up artist but then COVID swept down from on high all, 'lol, no,' so now I sell vintage fragrances and decants which is fine because it gives me more time to write and I'm trying to get back into doing that for money. As a writing partner I'm rather laid back and easy going, as in welcome to the merry kingdom of, 'it's literally just a game,' and not at all fussed about the things most people who use words like, 'advanced,' and 'literate,' (isn't this one kind of axiomatic?) to describe themselves worry about. What does matter? Well I need more than the simple juxtaposition of whatever World Of Darkness or Dungeons & Dragons style characters you've got so if you tell me you want to do a game involving, say, a Witch and a Vampire I'm going to do something terrible and ask you why. This makes most people flee instantly, but if you're brave enough for the venture perhaps you can explain why the arrangement appeals to you in thematic terms, and I may be able to appreciate it on that basis. Why is genesis in this context.
I think I can do no better than quote one of my heroes here, 'we like sex. It's jolly. Because it's a primary impulse it can also be difficult and dark and dangerous, it's a bit like food in that respect, only even more exciting,' so yes, we like sex, it is indeed jolly, but characters and plots exist to facilitate conflict and drama. Now sex can totally be part of that, because it's a thing people do that can be fun, exciting, and involve or facilitate all sorts of interesting emotional realities and realisations, and I'm not squeamish in the least about writing explicit or depraved scenes, but problems arise when internal logic of the characters and story are degraded or re-written for the purpose of facilitating smut, and that's not to say I won't create a character who can facilitate a certain type of erotica. As long as it's not a pirate. Seriously. Don't even ask.
I hope you found that elucidating and not totally alienating. Now plots. Presented in no coherent order. Sometimes these are just brief synopses and there may be several pages of additional material (which we are under no obligation to use) for anyone who is interested. Alternatively I might just put up a prompt sometimes with no real context because I'm erratic like that. Moreover feel free to present counter-offers, or other ideas on the same theme, or really just anything you think I might be interested in, on whatever basis seems reasonable to you. I like surprises.
Nothing more terrible. Nothing more true: I don't want to go into too much detail here with respect to the synopsis as I have a brief narrative intro and the premise of this game is literally designed to work without knowing anything about the characters or setting. It involves two characters (previously lovers, perhaps, or close at any rate and still inclined to regard one another with a certain amount of vestigial affection although that's not all that important save in the historical sense) who (for many possible reasons although I have some ideas and am happy to brain-storm) can't stay dead. They can die, and have died many, many times, but they always wake up, and without any clear memory of their previous lives. So they are more or less blank slates in moral terms. Doesn't mean they've always been nice people, but in their day they were formidable and respected, or reviled and feared in other lives, but naturally they have no idea of the impact they have had on their world and the people in it. The idea of them having to confront horrible things they've done in the past (perhaps even to each other) should make for some interesting drama, and of course there is the central conflict of regaining their mortality, assuming they want it, and we should contrive matters to ensure they will because goals are nice. Again how this plays out can be open-ended. I have ideas which I'm happy to discuss but am open to input. Moreover since our characters literally know nothing we don't need to waste time world-building in-advance as they don't know so we don't really need to know either and can simply figure it out as we go since that's what they'll be doing. Also as the NPCs must flow they will find people who hate them for seemingly no reason (or very, very good reasons); staunch allies ready to leap headlong into their cause (whether for good reasons or because they were simply duped which could make for some fun conflict; how would a good person feel about using someone who serves them loyally on a false premise they themselves cynically constructed in a life they don't remember?) and all that good adventure-stuff.
And now a short, narrative intro. Appreciate its brevity if you can. I do not normally do short but I'm trying it out for the moment.
A figure sat up slowly on a cold stone slab amid a drab, dimly lit room. His shirtless torso an odd collection of scars and, rather artless, tattoos. Physically he had the wiry muscularity someone who was no stranger to hard-living and privation, and at a glance his age was difficult to guess, but it was clear he was not a very young man. A cultivated air of stoicism marked his features, and the scars and tattoos did not entirely spoil the effect of his precisely, statuesquely handsome visage although for all its text-book symmetry it was currently devoid of any real animate charm, and did not seem apt to express such things at the best of times. Roughly unkempt, dark hair fell almost to his shoulders and he had to brush it back from where it fell over his eyes as he took in his surroundings. The only thing which seemed out of place in this, not in keeping with the stoic and weathered severity of his visage, were his eyes, and the wry, crooked grin he evinced while taking in the dour stone chamber. As if it was the sort of dismal place he often found himself in. A sense that appeared to provoke more in the way of irony than disappointment. The eyes currently scanning that same room were a heterochromatic blue although the striking colouration was scarcely discernible in the dim light. It was there he most showed his age in lines a flatterer might have called distinguished. The remnants of old laughter perhaps, but certainly old at any rate. He did not look like he laughed much now, or at nothing wholesome at least.
He remembered nothing. Not merely of how he had come to be there. Nothing. Not even a name. Then his wandering gaze was arrested by the tattoos he could see scrawled over his forearms, but before he could read more than a few confusing lines the broad-shouldered figure stiffened at the sound of a gurney's squeaking wheels, and he was soon standing, poised as if to fight, only to be greeted by a robed figure wheeling in a corpse. The two strangers stared at one another for a moment, but it did not last. Clearly having no stomach for the undead the newcomer beat a hasty retreat as soon as the shock wore off.
Likely as not saving himself from a another unsettling encounter when the fresh corpse he had just brought in sat up as well.
She captured the whole of his attention immediately. The way the sun does even when one has their eyes closed, yet there were no memories attached to the face as such. Only a deep sense of familiarity, and while she was more modestly attired than himself he noticed she too was marked with a number of tattoos and scars. One, a rather unimpressive but artfully realised cluster of yellow blossoms, triggered something like a memory. Not a scene played out behind the eyes. Not the recall of any clear information. It was more physical. The realisation of a capability, and of the feeling of his hands at work set to some task that was as natural as drawing breath.
It told him he had placed that tattoo there. He knew it as clearly as if he'd done it an hour ago.
'The Everlasting Flower,' the words escaped him in a soft, deep voice before he had a chance to think about whether this was a sensible way to greet a stranger, however familiar they seemed.
'Excuse me?' She turned on him.
He noticed a rather prominent scar starting a few inches below her ear running part way around her neck and although he did not know why the sight made him flinch. Meanwhile her initial, glowering expression softened, if only slightly, and he felt certain she was experiencing that same sense of familiarity he had moments before.
'I know you,' she said, 'but I don't remember you. However I am absolutely certain that this is entirely your fault.'
That rang painfully true.
'I also suspect that timid little man is going to bring others, and that pitch-forks and torches may feature heavily in our next meeting.'
'That seems reasonable,' he agreed, looking at the inside of his forearm, 'I have a tattoo here that says I should find Aren,'
'I I think I put it there. Only I have no idea who Aren is. For all I know it's me. I have one that says to find-'
'-Lysande?'
'And you have no idea who that is, do you? It could be you.'
'You're right, although it says here he is an idiot, so maybe you did write it-?' he grinned crookedly, 'Also I'll admit I'm feeling a certain amount of resentment towards myself right now for not leaving clearer directions. A name, for one thing, would be nice.'
'And I'm not sure why but I feel a lot of resentment towards you. As I said, I'm certain this is your fault.'
'I won't argue-' he shrugged and paced around the largely empty room, 'And I suspect I wouldn't win if I tried anyway. Still, back on the subject of pitchforks and torches?'
'Yes. Let's go.'
'Together?' He seemed hopeful.
'Of course.' She seemed perplexed he hadn't taken this for granted, 'I want to know how, exactly, you got us into this mess. Then find an appropriate way to make you suffer for it.'
There wasn't any trace of irony in the crooked smile that followed this remark.
He remembered nothing. Not merely of how he had come to be there. Nothing. Not even a name. Then his wandering gaze was arrested by the tattoos he could see scrawled over his forearms, but before he could read more than a few confusing lines the broad-shouldered figure stiffened at the sound of a gurney's squeaking wheels, and he was soon standing, poised as if to fight, only to be greeted by a robed figure wheeling in a corpse. The two strangers stared at one another for a moment, but it did not last. Clearly having no stomach for the undead the newcomer beat a hasty retreat as soon as the shock wore off.
Likely as not saving himself from a another unsettling encounter when the fresh corpse he had just brought in sat up as well.
She captured the whole of his attention immediately. The way the sun does even when one has their eyes closed, yet there were no memories attached to the face as such. Only a deep sense of familiarity, and while she was more modestly attired than himself he noticed she too was marked with a number of tattoos and scars. One, a rather unimpressive but artfully realised cluster of yellow blossoms, triggered something like a memory. Not a scene played out behind the eyes. Not the recall of any clear information. It was more physical. The realisation of a capability, and of the feeling of his hands at work set to some task that was as natural as drawing breath.
It told him he had placed that tattoo there. He knew it as clearly as if he'd done it an hour ago.
'The Everlasting Flower,' the words escaped him in a soft, deep voice before he had a chance to think about whether this was a sensible way to greet a stranger, however familiar they seemed.
'Excuse me?' She turned on him.
He noticed a rather prominent scar starting a few inches below her ear running part way around her neck and although he did not know why the sight made him flinch. Meanwhile her initial, glowering expression softened, if only slightly, and he felt certain she was experiencing that same sense of familiarity he had moments before.
'I know you,' she said, 'but I don't remember you. However I am absolutely certain that this is entirely your fault.'
That rang painfully true.
'I also suspect that timid little man is going to bring others, and that pitch-forks and torches may feature heavily in our next meeting.'
'That seems reasonable,' he agreed, looking at the inside of his forearm, 'I have a tattoo here that says I should find Aren,'
'I I think I put it there. Only I have no idea who Aren is. For all I know it's me. I have one that says to find-'
'-Lysande?'
'And you have no idea who that is, do you? It could be you.'
'You're right, although it says here he is an idiot, so maybe you did write it-?' he grinned crookedly, 'Also I'll admit I'm feeling a certain amount of resentment towards myself right now for not leaving clearer directions. A name, for one thing, would be nice.'
'And I'm not sure why but I feel a lot of resentment towards you. As I said, I'm certain this is your fault.'
'I won't argue-' he shrugged and paced around the largely empty room, 'And I suspect I wouldn't win if I tried anyway. Still, back on the subject of pitchforks and torches?'
'Yes. Let's go.'
'Together?' He seemed hopeful.
'Of course.' She seemed perplexed he hadn't taken this for granted, 'I want to know how, exactly, you got us into this mess. Then find an appropriate way to make you suffer for it.'
There wasn't any trace of irony in the crooked smile that followed this remark.
There was another plot here but honestly, it's just not a toy I want to share anymore. Watch this space as I will put some new ideas up soon. Like, a month or two >.>
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