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godkilller · 4 years ago

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ROLEPLAYING A FIGHT

DETAILS AND EXAMPLES.

As I touched on in my previous tips ‘n tricks post, fight threads should never happen in a void. There should be concrete connections to your character’s main storyline, their goals, their motivations, and other contributors to why and how they’ve found themselves in this current situation. That ALSO being said, the fight should literally not happen in a void: WHERE IS THIS CONFLICT TAKING PLACE? Describe, as an ‘establishing shot’, where your character is. Are they outside, is there a lot of room for them to run around and get into a scuffle? Are there trees, cars, buildings nearby? Will there be a high potential for objects (and people passing by) to get harmed / damaged in this battle? Does your character care about causing destruction during a fight, are they the type to say “let’s go somewhere else”?

Describing the space your characters are in is an excellent way of UNDERSTANDING WHERE YOUR CHARACTER STANDS, literally, because POSITIONING IS REALLY IMPORTANT! You don’t have to go absolutely crazy detailed when dishing out specs on where your characters are, but a general sense of “an opening within a clustered bamboo forest” or. “a half-constructed abandoned building” can really determine how the fight goes within that space, and most importantly how your character moves through that space.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER MOVE? Are they fluid, are they clumsy? Do they hunch, do they stand tall? Describing essential details pertaining to your character’s appearance, their demeanor, can help solidify them in that space. Do they sway when they talk? Do they jitter when they’re nervous or anxious? A conflict is brewing, are they looking for an escape? Do their eyes keep darting to other distractions, or to look for an opening?

THE FIRST MOVE. Who makes it and why? Example taken from a threeway thread involving Matsumoto Rangiku, Nnoitra Gigla, and Ichimaru Gin. Featuring @oboete-iru & @despairforme respectfully. Gin’s POV:

“ ❝ I saaaid... that’s e-nou-gh. Besides, why would ya go ‘n break her wieldin’ arm if she ain’t a thre---- ❞ in a flashing beam, a bared blade, his left foot swept back to brace as black-lined white billowed to reveal Shinso’s lunging bite directly past Rangiku’s hip------to drive a deep unrelenting strike into his upper ribcage; close to the armpit of the limb that held her still in favor of convincing the uncoiling reflex of his fingers. Gin aimed with precision, and with deliberate proximity to the very target he wished to not be thrown into the line of fire----quite impossible for the Espada to potentially thrust her into the fray considering Gin’s angled approach... lulled by his interrupted speech. The traitor sought to be swift; the blow would surely send the Espada backward in its connection------and hopefully result in her release. ”

Throwing the first punch is a decisive moment for many reasons, but it also should still speak to your character: DON’T EVER FORCE A FIGHT THREAD FOR THE SAKE OF ONE, if your character would rather talk their way out of a situation, exhaust that route first before going feral at your thread partner.

With that aside, let’s dissect this moment.

We get some dialogue to start the moment off, because Gin is a character who will casually chat, but he’s also cunning -- he interrupts himself to create a more abrupt attack. The motion is described as swift, so NOT MUCH IS SAID ABOUT EXACT MOVEMENTS, but we get what we need: his blade is drawn (”a bared blade”) it’s moving fast (“a flashing beam”) Gin has added strength to this strike by falling into a wider stance (“left foot swept back to brace”) and we also get where he’s aiming “directly past Rangiku’s hip to drive a deep and unrelenting strike into [Nnoitra’s] upper ribcage, close to the armpit” We also get motivation: Gin wants Nnoitra to let go of Rangiku, striking to “convince the uncoiling reflex of [Nnoitra’s] fingers” -- so we get this all relatively quick. In fact, it’s all almost condensed into one big sentence.

I don’t really worry about proper sentence structures and lengths because in fights, things should not be adhering to neat sentence pacing, they should be paced the way the fight is unfolding. Gin moves fast, and a lot of things happen at once, so that’s my style choice when writing a lot in one sentence. You can do things differently, this is just my preference!

Notice that none of the language implies that Gin’s target is being struck. The words and phrases used are open for Nnoitra to respond to, to react to, rather than to submit to. I describe things as “quite impossible” for Nnoitra to, say, throw Rangiku in front of Shinso in time -- because I want to stress the speed of Gin’s attack, and guide Nnoitra’s writer away from doing something I feel wouldn’t be realistic without the outright act of godmodding. I say this, however, by still giving Nnoitra the OPTION to do exactly what I have just stressed as DIFFICULT TO DO. Maybe he can still try to throw Rangiku into the way! It’ll be a tight window, but hey, surprise me! Writing this moment also shows that my character is actively deciphering yours, deciding what they could do and preparing for that: Gin knows Nnoitra’s dirty, and thus he’s taken a measure to avoid Rangiku paying the price by striking quickly and at an angle that would make it hard for Nnoitra to bring her harm.

At the end of this Moment(™) I top off the attack by mentioning that IF IT HITS, it’ll do X. Not only that, but IF MY ATTACK HITS, IT’LL DO X TO YOUR CHARACTER, AND HOPEFULLY CAUSE X. This sets up a potential chain of events for your writing partner to consider. If they decide that Nnoitra is going to take this hit, they can also consider: will Nnoitra be sent back through a wall, or will he drive his weapon into the ground to slow his skidding enough to avoid that? Will this be enough to make him let go of Rangiku? I have now given Nnoitra’s mun a few things to think about, or “goals” to either reach or adjust the outcome in their following reply. Nnoitra now has to a.) react to an incoming strike b.) be moved by it, either via being struck or by dodging, and c.) deal with holding onto or letting go of Rangiku, with the option of d.) a counterattack at Gin, or at Rangiku, in response to Gin likely pissing him off.

Describing motion that impacts a character other than yours: KEEP YOUR LANGUAGE OPEN, you can legit drop a “if this hits” to keep yourself from unintentionally godmodding contact onto your opponent. If you’re ever unsure, write like your character is thinking: they’re not thinking that their sword has already landed, they’re thinking about what’ll happen IF it does, or WHEN, but in an open-ended sense. The character themselves should never just manifest a blow landing in their heads as they’re swinging it, if that makes sense.

Open-ended language go-to’s for me: “aimed with the desire to cause (insert what’ll happen if your blow were to land, like ‘causing an immense force to blast all debris, and even dare to throw [opponent] backwards’)” or “their weapon sought to (insert what their attack trying to do, like cut off an arm, slash across a chest, or chop at the other’s weapon) with a wide strike” or “they parried, then moved to attempt a disarming scrape of their blade against the other’s, the swinging momentum a convincing pull to urge the swift release of the blade” etc. etc. I’m staying very vague, but the concept’s there!

THESAURUS TIME! Does your character move fast? Swift, fast, quick… those can get a little boring if your character is ALWAYS moving in that nature. So try to sometimes spice things up by playing with words that can replace your common descriptors.

https://www.thesaurus.com/ is your fellow student who’s working on a group project with you -- you shouldn’t lean so heavily on it because they’re not your friend, but it’s there to help you get the job done and together you can spruce up a neat end result.

MAKE SURE THEY STILL MEAN THE SAME THING, and don’t go too crazy as to lose your reader or distinctly destroy your pacing, your style, and your voice. Sometimes simplified is better, like describing the WOOSH of a fast moment as opposed to saying “this moved fast” -- “a WOOSH of the blade” rather than “he swung his blade quickly” can sometimes make a moment more exciting and easier to read without things droning on.

Hey, speaking of droning on, (this post lmao!!! Amirite lads???) does your character’s weapon have multiple ways of being referred to? Since a fight stars your character and their trusty weapon, having a few different ways to title it in your reply can be a lifesaver from sounding too repetitive. Shinso is Gin’s Zanpakuto, a Shinigami’s katana, and it’s in a wakizashi form. This can be called a short-sword, a wakizashi, a soul-slayer, a blade, a sword, a Zanpakuto, a ‘fang’ (swords or blades in general can be called fangs, especially if your character has animal symbolism tied to them), a beam (when it’s being shot) … and a few other things, too, to avoid me having to constantly write “Shinso” or “wakizashi” when moving it during a fight thread. I try not to alternate TOO much, because then it becomes obvious, kind of like when people start deliberately avoiding ‘said’ and it’s a dialogue-heavy scene… don’t go out of your way, this is just to help you avoid having 34 mentions of ‘sword’ in your 5 paragraph reply.

So you threw the first punch, but what happens next? Well, you can actually end your reply once your blow’s been polished up and finished. But a little bit of juicy introspection can’t hurt, too! Your character’s just started a fight, what are they thinking? What’s the damage? Did your character just do something destructive or brash? Tell us how, and what’s to be made of the attack your character just threw. Here’s Gin’s following moment after striking at Nnoitra:

“ … it’d feel nice ( akin to a surging punch ) to slam his blade into the pitiful pawn’s side. One hundred sword lengths called for, due to their confinement, a collision course that involved Nnoitra taking a shortcut through a neighboring wall. No matter the Espada’s tough exterior, solid defenses, Shinso would not stop shy. ”

There’s some more info pertaining to Gin’s attack in here, drizzled with a brief introspection that Gin will feel immensely satisfied if he gets to land a decent hit on Nnoitra (coupled with a “pitiful pawn” quip that notifies readers that Gin really DOES NOT LIKE this character, nor does he think very highly of his status, which may or may not be a chance for the character of Nnoitra to surprise or impress Gin via a hearty fight)

The details of exactly how far Gin’s blow would carry Nnoitra are important due to the nature of Gin’s special ability / sword. Shinso will “not stop shy” implying that Nnoitra’s going to either have to dodge or get slammed, because the blade that’s hitting him won’t stop its travel until it’s 100 katana-length’s long. Now, back up to the first section of this post: describing your character’s surroundings. Gin and Nnoitra are in a hallway, and Gin struck in a way that means the hallway is not going to suffice in terms of room. SO DESCRIBING POTENTIAL DAMAGES IS IMPORTANT: it paints the scene better. If Nnoitra is going to take this hit, this also means that a wall is likely going to crumble and collapse due to how tough and tanky Nnoitra is. Cue a classic anime moment of dust billowing up, rocks tumbling, and rubble shifting.

In all of this, don’t forget to respect your opponent -- Gin’s strike may land, but right from the get go there’s never an assumption that Shinso will be able to pierce Nnoitra’s tough skin. Knowing about your enemy’s special traits and abilities can help you make these moments more respectable: I know that Gin’s Shikai will not be enough to cut past Nnoitra’s hierro, his ‘steel skin’ defense. The most that’s described is the action of Shinso batting Nnoitra aside and into a wall, despite it being a sharp blade, it’s not described as an impaling moment.

That being said, don’t pull your punches if your character is a powerhouse! Respect others, don’t godmod, but also look out for defending your character’s own strengths! This can involve you studying up on how strong your character is in their universe, and finding some relations and comparisons to draw from in order to properly ‘rate’ them against your opponent. This can also lead you to a very IMPORTANT step, though not always required if both writers feel comfortable enough to proceed unplanned: TALK TO THE WRITER.

Discuss what you think your character is capable of vs. their character in a respectful way, open to hearing “actually, I don’t think that would happen” or “maybe we can go this route instead, since my character can x y and z?” Learning how to protect your character’s power while also being mindful and open to your writing partner’s character can lead to a really fun exchange and a memorable fight. You can literally drop a tentative “hey, I’m replying to our thread and Gin wants to punch Nnoitra in the face” and be responded to with a “go for it, it’ll probably break Gin’s hand” or “oh snap! that’s his one weakness!!!” LOL. I mean, unrealistic, but seriously talk to your writing partner about things if this is something you’re both passionate and excited about!

PLEASE, PLEASE REMEMBER THAT FIGHTS SHOULDN’T HAPPEN IN VOIDS, if you feel like your characters should be interrupted, or end in a draw, or lose interest / dissolve back into talking rather than fighting, then do this! Will your character chose to run away if the fight starts going south for them? Will your character try to offer a merciful end, will they be open to sparing the wounded enemy character if they feel they’ve successfully won? Does your character end up saving the other character by getting them medical help? This can go so many different ways than just blankly fighting and someone winning whilst the other dies.

CONSEQUENCES! What will the consequences of this fight be? For Gin, he has struck out at a supposed ally in defense of a Shinigami intruder that by all means should be considered the enemy. He can get into some trouble for this, or at the very least gain some speculation on where his loyalties lie if word gets out about what he’s done. Other consequences include, too, the very real threat that if Gin fails, Rangiku’s going to be killed. Find how this fight between characters can ADD MORE WEIGHT. Gin really wants this battle to end quickly and quietly. It’s going to drive him to act in a no-nonsense manner, too, because he doesn’t have time to play around. THIS IS VASTLY DIFFERENT, DUE TO THE CURRENT CONSEQUENCES, IN COMPARISON TO HIM PLAYING AROUND WITH ANOTHER MUN’S CHARACTER IN A LESS STRESSFUL SETTING.

Long term consequences, and calling back to a past fight thread in a later thread can make things extra spicy. For example, now Rangiku knows that Gin’ll fight one of his own to defend her; he can no longer pretend to be some emotionless husk standing on the opposing side in the war, he can be confronted about this moment -- by Nnoitra, too, or by other characters who are told about what happened. Gossip’s a bitch, right lads?

Now let your character recover: have them take that nap, or indulge yourself in some juicy hurt/comfort threads with an ally of yours, or some angst about a lost fight hitting your character’s confidence and mentality hard; do they train, do they rest, do they seek out someplace safe to heal, do they hunt down their rival / opponent for a second try? Are they now afraid of certain things, do they have trauma? Near-death experience, or a major injury that now hinders them?

This is a great resource to writing injuries (tw for blood and other graphic depictions of violence, injuries, detailed there) If you’re not squeamish, you can really dive into the medical side of things and study up what kind of damages your character may be faced with. It’s alright to not be totally realistic, though, considering much of what’s being written is based entirely on fake super-powered scenarios.

Sometimes, when struggling on how to describe movement, I’ll go onto Youtube and look up “Battle choreography” or “top ten realistic swordfights” or other relatable content to assist me creatively. Watching things in slow motion or multiple times to nail the positioning can help immensely. By watching similar-themed fights, I can see how those people are moving and try my best to describe that motion in written form. I try to avoid TV/Movie scenes that have been obviously hounded on for their anti-realism, especially sword fights, the common victim to Hollywood’s ridiculousness. But hey, if your character is an absolute mad lad and can pull a John Wick moment, then pull up that badass clip and go for it!

THERE’S SO MUCH TO EXPLORE, SO HAVE FUN WITH IT!

#[ roleplay resource ]#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #long post #PHEW.#this was extra hard and annoying considering a few of my laptop keys have been popping off.#also: i'm not trying to toot my own horn by using my own writing as examples to dissect: i'm well aware that my writing isn't perfect.#i just didn't want anyone to feel weirded out if i put their writing under a spotlight.

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, CAS! You’ve been accepted for the role of TYBALT. Admin Minnie: I HAVE WAITED A MILLION YEARS FOR EXACTLY YOU, CAS. Please do not think that I am, for one second, exaggerating. You expect every Tiberius application to have a force of will and dynamic quality behind it, but you gave us nuance. You gave us depth. Reading your application left me feeling like I was walking on a tightrope, in the very best way possible, with danger and urgency and FUN. I have no doubt that you will keep all of us on the edge of our seats with our heart in our throats with your Tiberius! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Cas.

Age | Twenty-two.

Preferred Pronouns | She/her.

Activity Level | I’m finishing up my MLit, but I tend to work in the day and then write in the night, so I don’t think it would affect my activity much. Lockdown means that I’m pretty much always around, always have access to a laptop and, therefore, will probably alwaysbe writing. To give it a numerical scale, I’d give it 8/9.

Timezone | GMT.

How did you find the rp? | Honestly? I’ve been following this roleplay since it opened, more or less. I kinda forgot about it for a while, but I was writing a paper on Shakespeare and that reminded me I should take another look.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Tybalt, Tiberius Capulet.

What drew you to this character? | While I was reading the open bios, I was pulled between a few different characters. I actually started writing up an application for Hero, but honestly, when I read Tiberius’ bio? I was totally enthralled. I’m used to playing sharp, wily, morally ambiguous characters, so Tiberius is new ground for me. He’s a gun with a mouth, a bomb always teetering on the edge of explosion, he’s a blade, he’s a weapon, and he builds a shrine to himself. He is unapologetically the villain of his own story, and nobody can take that away from him. He’s the sort of person who makes you utter his name out in full: Tiberius Capulet. He likes the sound of that. It’s harsh and guttural; it sticks to the roof of your mouth and chokes you. You don’t forget a name like that — and anyway, he doesn’t let you. Tiberius is a god made flesh, and he makes sure you know it. But he’s hungry, ravenous, really, and nothing sates that appetite. There’s a quote by Ruth Awad which I think puts what I’m trying to say quite nicely: ‘God who ate everything, did this world feed you?’ What really draws me towards Tiberius is the fact that he seems to vacillate between two extremes: he is at once cavernous and filled with every damask feeling in the world. He feels nothing and he feels everything; he looks at the world with two brutal, voracious eyes and decides he’ll devour it someday, he’ll eat it raw. That much is owed to him. If the god Ares lives among them, he lives in Tiberius: he is an ancient storm bated beneath skin. If he is given a choice between love and fear, he chooses fear, every time, until he burns so bright the world ends.

And yet, that’s only a slice of him. After all, how do you burn without a fire? Tiberius casts himself as the antagonist, but layered beneath that surface are chapters upon chapters of unfinished stories, untold tales, a whole mythology just sitting there, boiling under the skin. He’s brutal, but he’s not without feeling; quite the opposite, he feels things more deeply than most. Sure, he’s not a man of many attachments, but those he has, he holds onto for dear life. He is at once the beast and the man; the villain and the anti-villain. I think what drew me to Tiberius more than anything is the opportunity to unfurl all this rage, all this villainy in him, and to really determine where it comes from. He covets the crown of Verona, but he is first and last a Capulet — that is something that both propels him into greatness and holds him back. He will set this city ablaze and simultaneously shield his cousins from the fires of his own making. They’re a name, they’re a dynasty, and, sure, he wants the crown, but he’ll stop at nothing to preserve that. He loves them, in his own savage, infernal way. Their strategies will never be the same—Juliet is the Heart, Rafaella the Brain, Tiberius the Brute Force—but they forge a formidable trifecta. So, I suppose what makes Tiberius most interesting as a character is this oscillation between morality and amorality: he wants to feel the weight of the world in his hands and have them bruised by it, but what is he willing to sacrifice to achieve that? He is a mere prince, not a king, and while he knows that power is wielded by those who carve it out in stone and not those who are simply born into it, at night he dreams of sitting on a throne, ruling high above them all.

Anyway, sorry, I rambled — but! Essentially, I’m drawn to Tiberius not merely because he’s a wildfire as much as he is flesh and blood, but also because he has this impossible task of navigating and determining his own loyalties. He has one goal, plain and simple: Tiberius wants to rule. He has felt a strange magnetic pull to the throne ever since he was born; it has been calling his name for as long as he can remember. And he doesn’t care for much, but for those who make the cut, he’ll do anything, stop at nothing; he would pulverise this city into dust if it meant the Capulets emerged from the rubble on top. If feeling deeply makes you a monster, well, then, is the man a monster?

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

‘I, too, wanted to set Rome on fire, but never became an emperor due to unforeseen circumstances.’ Anonymous.

He’s a non-playable character, I know, but I’d love to explore Tiberius’ relationship with Cosimo a little more. I can’t help but feel that from the moment the boy know what power was, felt the weight of it in his bones, Tiberius has made himself accessible, always, to the man he hopes to replace. He was raised in the boss’ household, at all times hemmed in with wealth and warfare but always tempered by that culture of respect Cosimo has cultivated, and all he has ever known is bloodshed, scheming and the ruthless folklore of the Montague/Capulet feud. It’s not really a war anymore. More a lifestyle; simply how things are. Every single thing he knows about the world has been callously seized from the pages of history this mighty house has rewritten, and everything he can see, everything the dark touches, has Cosimo at the helm of it all. For two years, it was him, only him, before Juliana came along. That’s something I’d like to explore down the line: the scorn of his parentage which he finds so unfortunate, coalesced with his rearing, those years gleaning from Cosimo’s words lessons of war and honour, and the way in which Juliana’s birth cut through that blissful acrimony. Like a fine blade cutting through cardinal silk. What were those first two years like for him? Tiberius wears irascible warfare like a second skin — Juliana does not. And that is what makes one a worthy General, no? I’d love to delve a little deeper into the upbringing of the two—Cosimo’s subtly different dealings with them both—and how they have each flourished as a consequence of that. After all, it all goes hand-in-hand with his status as a Captain. Juliana the Heiress, Rafaella the Advisor — but him? Tiberius is a Capulet, but he is severed from the same power, prestige and influence afforded to his cousins; he is relegated and forced to run with the wolves, avid and hungry, with no history or name to bolster them. He may not be Cosimo’s son, but he is Capulet by name and by nature — ought he not dwell amongst other Capulets? It’s an insult, plain and true, and I’d love to explore how that affects Tiberius’ relationship with the other Captains. He views himself above them, their superior in all but status; but how do they view him?

‘Hades is relentless and untamed; so mortals hate him most of all the gods.’ Homer, from The Iliad.

Every action is purposeful, every swing of the blade with a goal in mind. He is no haphazard architect of chaos; the chaos is marked, always deliberate. More than anything, I would love to see Tiberius achieve everything he’s ever dreamed of. To become, once and for all, emperor; the General. But for that to happen, he has to cast Juliana and Rafaella aside. Juliana should be easy enough, he thinks, she has too much heart and too much soul to resort to artillery, blood, firepower—complacency is cowardice—but Rafaella is a more arduous obstacle. She smart enough for the crown, Tiberius is certain of it. Rafaella is not a Capulet by blood, but she is a Capulet by nature, and her wit is a force to be reckoned with. She is Tiberius’ real competition, primogeniture be damned, and, one day, he will have to fight her for the crown. The Capulets are a powerful little triad, to be sure: what with the empathy of Juliana, the sharp gumption of Rafaella, and the brute strength of Tiberius, they are unstoppable, impregnable. They yield to no-one, and that is the beauty of it all. But Tiberius is a dangerous sort of beast; he is blinded by rage and, for as long as he can remember, he has seen all things in red. I’d love to see a plot where Tiberius is at last granted everything he’s ever wanted—the heiress is cast aside as well as the polymath—and Verona suffers for it. After all, history has had its say on bloody men: Herod, Caligula, where are they now? They are dead. Their hands are marred with executions, with the blood of innocents. War is easy, isn’t it? But ruling is harder. Tiberius would not be a good ruler. Not now, not without identifying the seat of all that anger in him; not without Juliana and Rafaella at his side. There’s too much rage in him, too much cruelty. He lacks the heart and wit of his cousins. He is a man of war, a harbinger of violence and blood; what man like that knows the first thing about politics? He was born savage and he will die savage, plain and simple. Tiberius’ rule is not one, I don’t think, that Verona would take to easily. It’s this strange cesspool of moral degradation which thrives in duplicity: Verona is much too familiar with that thin, gauzy film it casts over people’s eyes. And when the body politic suffers, people tend to do something about it.

+ Equally, he might come to terms with the idea that Juliana, Rafaella and Tiberius need each other to rule. Not merely does Tiberius need them, but they need him. He’s prepared to get his hands dirty — in fact, he revels in it. As I mentioned, there is something in each of them which is necessary for ruling. Tiberius may groan at the softness of Juliana’s heart and he might resent the wit which permits Rafaella to rule over him, but he needs them both. If the Capulets want to rule, they must learn to do it together. They are a coin with three faces, and together, they engender a divinity for the modern age.

‘I’ve exhausted all my cruelty. I’ve arrived at myself again.’ Jenny George, from The Dream of Reason.

For most people, cruelty is a fickle thing: it comes and goes when necessity demands of it. Tiberius is not like most people. Through his eyes, the world crumbles to dust, and he stands, menacing and cruel, high above the wreckage. He has always expected that of himself and, as a result, so have those around him. He’s no Machiavelli, but the harshness of his heart strikes fear into his soldiers, his enemies, his underlings. But what happens when that brutality is exhausted? What happens when you take and take and take from that pot of callousness, of inhumanity, and the next time you reach your hand down into it, it comes up empty? A body can only contain so much: it is only a vessel. I would love to see Tiberius come to the end of his thread, to exhaust all the cruelty in him, and for the first time be forced to confront who he really is beneath all that anger. Identify where it all comes from. There’s a line in Tiberius’ bio I love: ‘He would never be satisfied—not until he drew his last breath, and probably not even then.’ He is relentless, utterly relentless, but every man has a breaking point. Nothing is enough for him, nothing sates him, and that is enough to break him. Tiberius is always being pulled between family pride and power; the Capulet name and the Capulet crown. He has always been decisive but, here, he falters. It bends him out of shape. I want to see him question absolutely everything he has ever known: his ambition, his hubris, his selfhood. Who is he, beyond the anger? Beyond the rage? There’s a quote from Antony and Cleopatra just before Antony’s death which I love: ‘Here I am Antony, / Yet I cannot hold this visible shape.’ I want to see that happen to Tiberius. I want to see him question absolutely everything he knows himself, everything he thinks he wants, and completely re-evaluate it. Maybe it makes him vulnerable — or maybe it makes him weak.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Oh, for sure.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample: (Full disclaimer, this had a whole story but I ran out of time, so I had to end it randomly! Whoops.)

The man is a gun with a mouth. He is silent until the trigger is pulled, and then he revels in the onslaught.

He smooths his fingers over the dark wood of the pew, splicing them between the ridges as if they were born to them. But that’s blasphemy, no? He’s an unholy, godless thing, and as leather touches to stone, Tiberius swears that his feet are warmed by the flames beneath them. He has always found there to be something quite provoking about the Cathedral of Verona: the ostensible aspect of it, anyway, the guise it projects beyond itself. He watches the way that the crucified martyr glowers down at him from the cross, made definite by golds and rubies and gaudy display. As if he owes him something. Tiberius exhales, inaudible, and leans backwards. A tiger ensconced in wait. He rolls up his sleeve as if he’s wearing a watch. There’s no watch. But he knows Cassian is late.

He catches the words of the believers, pilgrims circling the effigy at the alter, caught up in an aerial whisper: I’ve never found a language to talk about the things that haunt me most, one of them purrs at the idol. He scoffs at that.

The Cathedral is just a history written over another history, Cosimo tells him once. History is always being written—written and unwritten—so, really, history is not history but hearsay, rumour, accepted gospel. Veronans have a short memory, don’t they? They simply accept the image before them without question, without hesitation: they look, but they do not see. They’ve always been like that, he thinks. Why? Why pant after history, he thinks, when we’re rewriting it every day, running rogues through with their own fucking swords and putting words to paper with their blood? But it is no use to justify yourself; no use in explaining. It is weak to be anecdotal. He remembers his Sunday mornings here, dressed up in the right garb, Juliana tugging at his sleeves. Devouts scurry each and every day to grovel at the feet of their God, as if the idol walks among them. He’s a believer, sure, but a profane one. What good Christian boy marches reverently from Sunday morning service straight into the footways of destruction and annihilation, slinging his cleaver over his shoulder? Him, apparently.

Gods walk among them, alright. New, shiny, pestilent gods, with bullets for mouths and their hearts in bronze fetters. God exists, but there are a thousand more to join him, and they’re all made in his image. They’re new stories, new divinities forged out of his own flesh and blood. History is so distracted by the endurances of the past, the days of beggary and hunger. But the Capulets build. Their power coasts along the half-light, savage moments seen in fragments. Tiberius works in the dark, in half-seen expressions and deeds. Light swathes itself around him only when it is too late to escape him. And then he cuts you down. The unknown is a frightening thing, people have decided, and so he opens up that gap and pours fear into it; always fear. Fear and blood, red as their crest.

Some of the rumours about him are true, some of them lies. Still, they are good stories to tell.

Tiberius is growing impatient. His soldiers know not to keep him waiting: when a forest fire burns it smoulders on, indiscriminate. He feels the air shift behind him, chilled, and he knows that Cassian has—at long fucking last—decided to grace him with his presence. He curls his neck over his shoulder, still perched on the pew as if in prayer, and watches Cassian approach him, the sloe of his eyes still and immovable. He doesn’t wait. He rises from the pew and makes towards the sacristy, the movement itself a beckoning to follow. He passes a group of worshippers and nods glassily at them — not worshippers, really, but eyes. Capulet eyes, which are always open.

Tiberius crosses the hall with his shadow lingering a few feet behind him, and when they climb the staircase he runs his fingers across the bannister’s veins of gold. He reaches the second floor and he shoulders himself through a door, slinging himself onto the leather of a sofa. He reposes himself low, all languorous, and a pulls a cigarette from his pockets, lighting it in the cup of his fingers. He does it effortlessly, with ease, like he’s done it a thousand times before — which, of course, he has. He pulls the cigarette to his mouth, inhales, exhales in smoke, resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa. ‘Well?’ he says, impatient.

Cassian is a man of words. Too fucking many words, Tiberius thinks. He prefers action. Still, he gets the job done, he supposes; there’s nothing squeamish about the man and he’s unscrupulous, damn it, and while he wouldn’t trust the man to catch him if he falls, he serves a purpose. He’s a steady little war-dog, always ready to do his bidding.

‘No show, apparently,’ he says, his eyes wandering. Buyers of the product who can’t pay up. Won’t, Tiberius had corrected him in their last discussion of the whole affair — won’t pay up. And there’s a price for that, isn’t there? Nobody makes a beggar out of the Capulets; nobody makes a beggar out of him, and lives to tell the tale. Fear’s a funny little thing, isn’t it? It lines one’s pockets with gold, somehow. Gives them the means to pay up, at last. Well, Tiberius is nothing if not efficient. ‘I’ll take care of it, boss.’

Tiberius says nothing. Merely inhales another puff of the cigarette, in, out, brings his elbow back down to the arm of leather and glowers. Same as fucking usual, he thinks. If it weren’t for the money, he’d simply fire his pistol, lodge the bullet squarely between the wastrel’s eyes. How’s that for efficiency? He watches the cogs turn behind Cassian’s eyes, marked, purposeful, full of intent — a thousand courses of actions slowly forging a path to escape him. But will Tiberius bite? Tonight, he decides, he’ll play nice. He flicks the cigarette carelessly into the ash tray and rises from the leather, his face still hard — but not heartless.

‘Bene,’ he decides upon, his expression still inflexible but apparently in the mood of charity tonight. Fine. ‘Get me a whiskey, then, won’t you? I’m parched.’

Extras: Just a Pinterest board I made for inspiration, which you can find here.I’ll direct you straight to this pin here because, well, is this Juliana talking about Tiberius? Yes. Yes it is.

#accepted #accepted: tybalt

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loquaciousquark · 6 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E26 (July 17, 2018)

Tonight’s guests: Matt Mercer, Ashly Burch, and Taliesin Jaffe. Heck, I’m nervous for all three of them.

Announcements: Critical Role will be at the San Diego Comic Con on 7/21 in 6BCF at 6:30pm. The panel will be aired next Tuesday during the TM time slot. They’ll also be at NYCC in October!

CR Stats! Episode 26 had 14 natural 20s, the most of the new campaign. This was in no small part due to Ashly borrowing Tal’s dice because she doesn’t own her own dice bag. There’s so much dice karma happening in that sentence I don’t even know how to handle it. It ties with episodes 55, 61, and 100. Keg has the most natural 20s of any single-episode guesting with 4. Molly got the M9′s 100th kill. He leads the party with 21 kills in all. “Hot murder streak.”

We’ve seen seven of Molly’s cards so far: the silver dragon, anvil, serpent, eye, moon, shadow, and the chariot. Tal says the serpent may be the same as the dragon, but he’ll check.

This was Ashly’s first time guesting on the show proper--previously she’d only been on oneshots. Biggest difference? “There were less people dying on the oneshots!”

Matt and Brian both take a moment to applaud Ashly’s characterization and sticking to the true roleplaying of her character over any min-maxing of the dice she might have done otherwise. Tal says the math would have come out either way as it was. It’s the first time she’s ever done something like that in a D&D game.

Matt always prefers roleplaying over what’s strategically optimal, especially since the moments where you falter and fail often lead to the true “hero” arc for your character. “It was very wild and unique to watch the cocksure exterior crumble.”

Everyone’s been kind to Ashly directly since The Incident. It’s only whispers she’d heard indirectly.

Tal already hadn’t slept the night before; he didn’t that night either, just curled up and thought until dawn. He realized in panic that he’d never come up with a backup character as Matt had asked months ago; he has rolled a new one since then, but he spent most of the weekend coping with making a new character in three days after spending six months on Molly. Bless.

Brian woke Ashley up during the live show when he heard Taliesin say “my Blood Maledict’s going to kill me” so that they could watch the rest together. He realized that Matt was hesitating a lot more than usual as things went on, that Matt seemed to be hinting more and more strongly that the impending encounter was about to go very badly for the M9.

Matt designed the Iron Shepherds to be a very dangerous, powerful group when they are all together (as they were that night). He’d planned for several options: the M9 following and never catching up, waiting to gather intel until Shady Creek, catching up but only observing from a distance, and for the actual battle itself. He tried to give them clues about how dangerous they would actually be: that there were more than five enemies, that Ashly’s character knew how dangerous they were, that they were prepared and tough-looking. However, he never wants to be too heavy-handed in guiding the players’ hands. His intent with the battle was to show some surprises and that the M9 didn’t know what they were dealing with, and had hoped that the M9 would take the hint and back out sooner than they did.

Brian could tell that Matt was very visibly affected as the fight went on, which Matt points out was in part due to how late it was. He allowed the battle to occur because he didn’t plan for it to be a long one (the Iron Shepherds were going to speed away...until the M9 dropped the tree across the road). Then he had no idea what was going to happen during the battle. He adds that DMs sometimes end up with encounters harder than they’d plan, and it was nervewracking because as much as he cares for these characters, he also has a responsibility to be true to the strength of the enemies and the realities of the dice. There were a lot of ways the fight could have still gone, but didn’t (parlay, discussion, more ambushing, better dice rolls).

If Keg hadn’t stepped up and used her relationship specifically with Lorenzo to halt the battle, it would have gotten way, way worse for the M9, including the kidnapping of more of the M9 to be sold.

Lorenzo has a specific vanity and enjoyment of power over other people, and Keg’s intervention played straight into that. It’s the only reason that encounter didn’t go more poorly.

Some of the Iron Shepherds’ background information was known by Keg; some was deliberate misleading on the part of the Shepherds to keep Keg in the dark.

Keg wasn’t happy about Caleb’s charming, but Keg knew there was no way she could take on the Shepherds on her own. She has a facade of being cocksure and proud but is truly a coward, and knew that taking them on alone would kill her. The charming was a “necessary evil.”

Taliesin knew the risks of the Maledict but planned to give Lorenzo disadvantage, hopefully dodge the next two attacks, and escape as soon as Lorenzo engaged with Beau. Then the dice came up with the rest of his HP and that was that.

Matt did in fact roll the Golden Snitch for the bad guys this game. Brian: “Let’s not give him the most powerful die in the game next time.” Tal: “Oh, it’s going to go mysteriously missing any day now.”

Lorenzo was not visibly afraid at any point during this fight. Matt declines to elaborate further.

GIF of the Week! u/rndmanswrs4rndmqstns from Reddit, for a gif of the battle map from last episode superimposed with a tragic news ticker footage of the slaughter.

Molly’s final words were an easy choice. “He’s not complicated in that direction, and his feelings on violence and death are easy.” Tal says it didn’t fully hit him until hours later. Still, Molly never really felt ownership of his own self; it all still felt borrowed. He knew death would come eventually and probably earlier rather than later. “As ways to go existed, I think that was a very Molly way to go.”

Matt thinks these reminders of mortality are important...depending on the type of story you’re trying to tell. Their game needs the stakes of having the risk of death, although that’s not what would be fun for every game and should not always be on the table. However, they know each other so well that he feels it’s an important reminder that there are consequences for their actions and that it suits the world they live in. Tal points out that the same thing is true for so many types of fiction: “they’re only fine because they’re not real.” Sometimes these stories happen in a vacuum and the hero is immortal...and sometimes, as in their game, they’re not. Matt thinks it’s important to be able to grieve and feel catharsis for even a fictional character (and cites a particular death from C1 as an example for himself). Matt: “In a weird, macabre way, I’m excited to see where the story goes from here.” Brian: “Me, too.” Tal: “Me, too. I mean, at first I was panicking, but now I have a pretty good idea.”

Ashly initially panicked when Matt revealed the Iron Shepherds’ abilities (since she thought she’d misremembered what Matt had said), but then felt even more justified in her RP. Everything felt worse because so many people were gone, including Laura and Travis. “I felt like the babysitter who dropped the baby.” She felt the whole time during the fight that they shouldn’t be engaging the way they were.

Molly’s final thoughts were “easy and simple and base...the immense, reasonable, and wonderfully sustaining emotion of ‘well, fuck you, too,’ which is the righteous and more reasonable cousin to ‘fuck you.’“ No fear, no panic.

The Iron Shepherds existed as part of the worldbuilding in the northern region and were intended to be a later issue, but Matt wove them into the story soon since Laura & Travis had to leave. He wasn’t intending for them to become such an immediate, intense antagonistic force, but DMs have to adapt to the situations and this one felt natural.

Cut to Dani Cam, who had a very hard Thursday night ( :( ). She asks Ashly how Keg, someone very self-preservational, decided to sacrifice herself for the M9. Ashly remembered that in their discussions, Matt characterized Lorenzo as someone who liked to make examples of people, and thought that if she prostrated herself in front of him, he might maim her but not kill her, which turned out to be accurate--so it was still fairly self-preservational on her part. They’ll find out more next week. Ashly will be with us the next two sessions and will be joining the crew at GenCon! Heck yes!!

As much as Tal likes Matt’s Lingering Soul class, he would never consider it as an option for Mollymauk. “There’s no version of Molly coming back as a ghost that doesn’t end with him desperately wanting it to be over.” Matt designed it more narratively to be a person whose sheer force of will keeps them from accepting the moment of death due to unfinished business or the pure determination to live...which they both feel is the exact opposite of Molly.

Matt liked how Taliesin showed that all personalities can play the Blood Hunter, not just the edgy grimdark type.

Fanart of the Week! @jesttothenines, with this pain. Ow.

If Molly hadn’t run to Lorenzo, Beau would have likely been his example instead. Molly was an easier target, though, because he was closer and more hurt. If Beau had been unconscious instead (and not dead) when Keg made her plea, Lorenzo might have asked what she was willing to trade to get Beau back.

This is the second of Tal’s characters Matt’s killed. The first one was a mad monk who liked to set things on fire who was eaten by ghouls.

Dani: “Why can’t this campaign be happy? And fairies?!” Matt: “We had the fairies last campaign in the Feywild! They murdered the pixies! They sided with the werewolves!”

After last campaign, Tal and Dani hugged while Dani cried pretty hard. Then Tal went home and cried himself. He left the table during the episode because he was on the verge of having a panic attack and couldn’t handle watching everyone else panic as well.

Ashly thought she was going to have a limb lopped off at minimum when Lorenzo had her kneel. She didn’t expect to be let go unscathed.

Molly would have considered his death “worth it” if he knew it meant Beau was spared. In a way, it helps that he now has an “eternal one-up” on her. Matt: “That’s very Molly of him.”

The persuasion success from Keg was a chief reason Lorenzo spared them, but it was also because the rest of the M9 were insignificant gnats to him. Keg’s reaction was the only one he cared about, so as soon as she gave in he’d gotten what he wanted. Then he just wanted to set the example and spread the word.

Ashly hadn’t meant to let them know she’d been part of the slavers until Shady Creek, but actually likes how it came out.

Matt really doesn’t think it was an overall bad plan. It was just a few strategic missteps, some very bad dice rolls, and an enemy that outmatched them.

Dani recalls to us all that Molly had told us it would be a cursed trip.

Molly’s parting advice to the M9: Tal declines to think about it much in depth. “Life’s short, eat a bagel. Join the circus. Lighten up. Life’s short; do something to a bagel.”

The illusion that cloaks the cages under the tarp means that even if the missing three of the M9 are in there, they wouldn’t have seen Molly’s death.

Molly is no different in Taliesin’s head than he was last week, which is why he's having a slightly easier time with this than everyone else. “He’s no different for me, I just don’t get to trot him out on Thursday.” He was based off of several friends, some who have passed away, and several experiences he had as a teenager and places and people he knew that profoundly affected him. He mentions a song off the soundtrack for Wristcutters: A Love Story, since that movie had a lot of “good carnie family vibes” about weird people taking care of each other. There was an archetype in film that was very much Molly which Tal hasn’t seen in a long time, and he explains: there’s a way of living a life where you don’t give a fuck about what people think but you do give a fuck about people. He never needed to be fixed and he never needed permission for anything. He’s not Iron Man where you’re waiting to see him become a good person, and he was never a creature of profound change like Captain America, where you watch to see the good they make on the world; his unfinished business was in each interaction he had with the people in the world and making them deal with him, but making sure that dealing with him was always a positive and kind experience. Matt gets very emotional at the description. Me too, friend.

His favorite part of playing him was being a teenager version of himself; the art and cosplay were spectacular. And the terrible accent, of course.

Brian takes a moment to thank Taliesin for making memorable characters and memorable choices that have a bigger impact than what only they can see. He looked at all the tributes for Molly this week because he wanted to get a feel for how the community was feeling so that they could hone the questions for the show. The character meant a lot to a lot of different types of people, and it’s a testament to Tal’s heart that people connected so much with this character.

Brian, Matt, and Tal are all crying at this point. Ashly starts reactive-crying. Dani’s crying on the Dani Cam. This is AWFUL.

After Dark: QQ Edition

We open laughing (relieving change) since everyone’s hurled obscenities at Brian just before the show went live. Matt enjoys being on the other side of that for once.

Beau is the member of the M9 who’s best earned the right to wear Molly’s coat. “She’s the one who needs to lighten up. Caleb’s never going to lighten up and that’s okay. Jester doesn’t need it. Fjord doesn’t need it. That’s not Nott’s problem.”

Keg is super interested in Nott’s never-ending flask. “I’m abandoning this super dramatic narrative. I’m going for the flask.”

A TPK was possible if the M9 kept throwing themselves at the Iron Shepherds, but Matt knew they were smarter than that and would either flee or give themselves up as Keg did. “It relied on the players’ actions at that point; that’s why I was so nervous. I was like, this is the scenario I built and now we have to see it through.”

Tal honestly doesn’t remember what Liam said to him when he left the table right after him. It was mostly a “well, that happened,” and Liam just refilled his drink before going back to the table.

Tal went home after the show, cried in bed, and then the sun came up and he realized he had no idea for a new character. He spent so much time working on Molly that he never got around to making anything else. He came up with his next idea in about thirteen-fourteen hours, and he’s very happy with it. Matt points out he was explicitly clear about how they needed to come up with backup characters when the campaign started. “These low levels are dangerous!”

Everyone addresses the new studio in terms most respectful and patient, asking it to be benevolent now that it’s had its blood sacrifice.

Keg’s going to grow a vengeance beard.

Brian talks about Ashley’s reaction on the couch; she leaned forward on her knees, looked over at Brian, and said, “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.” Brian said, “Yeah, you probably will.” They now have a formidable villain for the early campaign.

Tal can’t even answer the question about how Yasha will react when she finds out. “Oh, no. Oh, no.”

Matt and Brian have a retrospective moment of panic about how good it is Yasha wasn’t there that night, since she’s a rage-based barbarian. Matt, wide-eyed: “There would have been no parlay. Oh, no. Next question.”

Keg’s favorite moments were the secret-sharing with Nott and the conversation with Beau. Matt loved their meeting: “When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. It was beautiful.”

Brian’s first desire after the show was to rage-tweet Matt Colville. He, apparently, refrained.

Matt thinks the threat of death should be present and played out when it happens, but he never likes playing DM-vs.-player.

Tal smiled when Molly was being killed because that was both Molly’s reaction, and because Tal himself is a nervous smiler.

Matt doesn’t consider this revenge for Tal killing him off so soon in the Vampire oneshot; Tal reminds us that he knew Matt knew about the very specific subclass he’d given Matt and they both knew what would happen when he went outside.

Tal and Matt reminisce about early PC deaths. “What was that, 2012?” Ashly: “Aw, you guys have killed each other so much!”

They’re asked about the best lie they’ve ever told. Tal convinced someone a nonsense Pirate Queen existed; Matt doesn’t really lie, but when he senses gullibility he doubles down until reality’s rearranged.

Tal started wearing black when Jim Henson died...except that he forbade black at his funeral. The camera zooms in on Tal’s iridescent loafers & his peacock paisley shirt: “This is Molly’s funeral shirt.”

Ashly will definitely be back on Thursday; Tal will be back as soon as the narrative allows it. He’s prepared for Thursday if it works out.

And that’s where it wraps up tonight. Be good to each other; it’s almost Thursday.

#critical role #talks machina #critical role spoilers #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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dishonoredrpg · 4 years ago

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Congratulations, TARYN! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE MOON with the faceclaim of FRIDA GUSTAVSSON. In spite of a few understandable bumps in the road, you really blew me away with Maiden! The Moon is a very understated character, to me, in that their subtleties and smaller notes are what really make them interesting. You took them in a direction I wasn’t expecting, but I enjoyed the ride nevertheless -- I also enjoyed the ups-and-downs of the plots quite a lot, and how you tied everything together with a nice little bow in regards to her interest in botany and the past which she is still trying to uncover. Altogether, this was a delight to read, and I can’t wait for Maiden to grace the dash!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC NAME: Taryn PRONOUNS: She/her AGE: 21+ TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST & currently I’m stuck at home and rarely allowed to leave the house because I’m immunocompromised… bleh. In a week or so I’ll be considered okay to rejoin people, and then I’ll be on the job hunt - which I only mention because it may change my activity ability once that’s happening! I also do help out behind the scenes at another roleplay, so some creative juice goes there. Overall, ideally I’m at least online everyday to chat, plot, or post a reply. Some days the ole mental health needs me to stay off screens for a bit or just says You Aren’t Writing Today, but I’d say it’s been a while since I’ve gone more than 3 days without posting on an rp account, so whatever that translates to -- 7/10, maybe? ANYTHING ELSE?: Other than what I already messaged you about (and thank you again for your understanding!!), I just want to say I interpreted things a little differently than the recent skeleton edit/your anon answers imply -- I thought her magic manifested at thirteen with the instance of Moon freezing her mother’s arm, meaning her mother knew from that early age that Moon had powers, and only told Moon to leave when the rumours spread. I think that switches up the dynamic you might have imagined, but hopefully you still like it! I was also a little confused as to whether or not the Moon’s mother ever instructed her in the work she does -- because there is the “All she ever does in return is chuckle and pat you on the head, but you figure that she’ll tell you one day.” line, but it seems that’s when she’s younger, and I figured if she’s working as a botanist at the castle she must have been lessoned in the stuff to some degree. So there is mention of her mother teaching her botany in her history, but it’s not an ~important detail at all and could literally just straight up be removed from the bio without issue. Can you tell I’m anxious and need to over-clarify everything? Lmao. Anyway, thanks again Julie!! IN CHARACTER SKELETON: The Moon NAME: Maiden Mallorian / “Triss” I don’t largely go into naming conventions but I think there’s some worth in discussing it here! The use of Maiden as a given name is meant to embody an Otherness by using a commonly-used noun in place of a traditional name (... though I guess all names are nouns too… anyway), as well as a mystique. EG: If every young, unmarried woman is a maiden, then who is the girl we call Maiden? Is she all of those young women, or none of them - is she a person, or a concept? Can a woman even have an identity with a moniker shared by so many -- a similar question to can a girl have a sense of self if she is raised in isolation, if her teachers are not people but the meadows, the crows and the heaths and the moors? There’s also certainly the archetype of The Maiden in literature, particularly in relation to the trio of Maiden / Mother / Crone. Beyond her mother embracing this triumvirate of feminine archetypes and deliberately naming her after as much, there’s just that very literal interpretation - I’ve named her after the maiden archetype, pure and simple. Her mother is, clearly, the mother, and I see the High Priestess rounding out that divine feminine trio as the crone -- the most aged of all, the closest to death, and the bearer of the most knowledge. Furthermore you have the scrubbing of this name and the replacement of it with Triss -- a simple, short nickname that bares no importance or meaning, and instead effectively erases the things that made her unique. Maiden tends to forget or, at least, forgo introducing herself with the alias both because she dislikes and genuinely forgets to use it -- so you may have a smattering of people who know her in-character as Triss, but to those that she knows better and/or takes a liking to immediately, they’ll know her as Maiden. Which, if I’m continuing to be a little extra with the name analysis, is also a good representation of her duality/contradiction -- two names, two selves, two parts to the moon (glowing at night; invisible by day-hours), the illusion/deception part of the moon tarot, and all that jazz. FACECLAIM: (1) Frida Gustavsson (2) Ashley Moore AGE: Twenty-five DETAILS: So, full disclosure, I’ve said it a dozen times to a dozen different people but I had the hardest time deciding on a character -- I was literally stuck between five or six skeletons until like 48 hours before the submit closed. They were as varied as The Moon to Temperance to even the dark horse of The Hermit plowing its way through my heart, and what attracted me to that array of characters on the whole was just the ability to see a story in them. I could find in each of them a distinct past and complex future, but the Moon ended up pulling ahead as I started to collect inspiration and jot down notes -- it was Maiden’s story that wouldn’t leave me alone. And I will go into an attempt to tell you why below, but realistically that’s almost the best reason I could give you -- because they won’t unstick from your shoulder or let you reach for someone else. They demand to be spoken for. Truthfully, I love tales of daughters and their mothers. I love the narrative passed between them, how one can be an extension of the other -- I love a retelling of an immaculate conception where the magic is found in the mother, not an absent-holy father (even if said immaculate conception is just myth, because who says a story isn’t as important as a truth). I love women and their stories, and how no girl is ever so far from being a witch -- basically, I adore that Girl Magic, so it was her background that appealed to me first. Because while we’re talking about Girl Magic, there’s such a potential for that with The Moon. I saw her at the crux of an eccentric mage and a clumsy apprentice, possibly hovering in the middle because she has no instructor, only herself -- so she is forced to experiment and create and learn all at once. I also love archetypes of wild women, though that doesn’t have to mean the ones that run with wolves -- sometimes it means the ones who sleep next to them. I’m very drawn to stories of the Others, the ones a half-step from society, who hold something unusual and distinctly enchanted about them -- and Maiden, whose magic has manifested in a way that may prove unique to all humanity, certainly has that Otherness going for her. Women in real life (and in fiction) are so often grouped into homogenous categories or expectations that being able to write one who not only defies societal conventions, but exists outside them entirely, and with contradictions inside her -- phew. That’s some shit I can fall in love with. I do find it difficult to dissect and lay out who Maiden is so plainly -- to me, that’s like writing an analysis on a novel I haven’t finished yet. I can’t separate her bones for you yet on the table because I’m still unrolling them from the skin myself, measuring out the angles of her joints, sizing up her feet, etc. But I like that I know this muse is going to unravel for me with time, despite how much I already have done -- that’s actually a very important note to me in a character, feeling that there is still progress to be made as both myself and the muse go through the roleplay together. Though, that being said, I also don’t remember the last time I’ve been able to create such a long-term character arc from the get-go -- which is super exciting, tbh, and yet another reason I got drawn into the Moon’s lunar pull over the others. Got me out here feeling like I could write a novel 😭 BACKGROUND: let us begin, as all stories do - and as they must - at the beginning. to be fair and honest, as stories never are, we must admit that this is not quite the true beginning. that beginning, in this case and all others, would mean the black-star start of the world (or in the very least, if we are to cheat just slightly, the origins of magic - but i digress), when everything came from nothing and nothing meant everything. but for both your time and mine, we will skip past the first red, slashed dawn of the world, and even beyond the fantastic sky-breaking initiation that brought magic, though they did not come all that far apart, as you may think. i also feel that it is my duty to you, dear reader, to state my bias. that is all. i state it. i type it in bold letters, black like stones from the bottom of a cold ocean and just as cold. it has been relayed, and i have done what is necessary. i have no obligation to further explain to you what it may be, or to who i am favored or embittered - indeed, i staunchly oppose such action, as you yourself must have an active part in this tale, a responsibility to seek out what is truth and what is exaggeration - and there is no point in asking. but don’t read too much into this. all this facetious, drawn-out text is only a disclosure. this is a story, real as your whale-blubber bones, and i am not lying about any of it. all i mean to say is this: it is a sign both of humanity and of narration that we should always, must always, pick a side. it is simply necessary, just as it is necessary to remember this when one is the listener. never believe a narrator who does not disclose themselves upon the opening of a story, and never trust one that calls themselves impartial. they are lying. it is only natural to crave loveliness, or wickedness, or both, and it can only be expected that a tongue slants and bends to accommodate such reactions of the heart. there is no story that is all truth. there is only love and the words we create to try and express it; never quite accurate, never quite enough, like a burr soaked in honey and left on your tongue. stinging and sweet, but no matter how you try, you cannot spit it out. (remember, look closely, but not too hard). this is our story. i leave it in your mouth. there are three things in succession: a bargain, a girl, and magic. the order of these both matters and does not. it does not matter because all these things are one and the same in the end. it does matter for reasons that will become apparent shortly. there is, as many tales go, an unhappy woman (why it is never a man that is so morose and dissatisfied with life in these stories, we shall leave for the scholars to explain). she lives in a stretch of land where few who are not seeking her come, and spends her days shucking the cures and harms out of flowers and counting the wolves that pass by her road. the first bargain, by all accounts, happens some time ago, before we begin the meat of our tale: the woman lives simply but she lives alone, and for that fact alone she is considered both strange and in necessary want of a companion, for it is a truth universally acknowledged that even a peculiar woman is in want of a husband. yet no sojourner or knight come to her door seeking remedy is invited to stay longer, no boots left at her doorstep despite the impressive if not daunting presence of her beauty, and in the absence of romance the people in the farmlands grow restless, then talkative. what does a woman want beside a mate, they wonder? particularly when she is young, and beautiful, and alone, they add, because in these stories and every one that will be told thereafter until my throat is split in a great red grin, that is all that matters to an active audience. a child, they murmur finally. it must be a child. there are varying accounts of what happens next, but let me give you the gristle: a swell comes to the solitary woman’s belly, and in more moons, so comes a daughter. no one remembers when she is born, and it is something of a wonderment that she exists at all; far and wide she is eyed thrice-over by all those who see her babe form swaddled in her mother’s arms, wondering over which crib she has been snatched from. the farm-folk in the nearby flatlands believe that she was not stolen or bred but placed, a changeling offered to her mother in exchange for a bargain made with the undying god, or conjured up by spell and pure maternal desire alone (for you were a fool if you believed these simple folk saw a woman, young and beautiful and alone and with her fingers in the dirt, and never called her witch). others still swear the child came from the unfolded petals of a white flower, her minute form bundled up where the pollen was meant to be. whether this gossip speaks to the audacity of the men in the telling of the lie or the stupidity of the listener for believing something so unnatural, i will let you decide. or perhaps you believe in magic. do you? i digress. so as you are learning, the first bargain is both unimportant and not. completely individual and irrevocably part of a far larger, grander whole, indistinguishable from the rest. but next comes the girl, as i promised. and she is very, very important. she is our story. she is her mother’s in full, because blood and magick are one and the same, and the farmers are right in this alone: her mother loves her as meat loves salt, as lions love flesh and blood and not cabbages, and there is no unnatural thing in this world she would not do to make her borne. she loves her from dusk to dawn and dirt to moon, and so she gives her a name stitched with irony so that the fates will not sew it into her bones: maiden. a thing from every story, a girl on every street. she names her after a concept so that she will always be real, made of life. so that the tales whose paths she walks will not decide for her. mother and maiden live in the little cottage in the wide grasslands between wicked wood and dry cropland, and in the nothingness they have everything they need. mother hunts for their supper and teaches maiden to carry a bow when it is time, and more importantly how to give thanks to the beasts they carve up on the wooden table. they collect logs for fires and till the gardens by hand, taking from the earth all that they need and never - as mother instructs - a drop more. they play games of knots and crosses in the dirt and maiden makes dramas with the figures mother whittles, and to give you the very best truth of all, they want for very little that they do not have. she learns how to be a raven (observing), a fox (clever), a rabbit (swift), a riddle (everything all at once, and only sometimes a girl) from mother and the animals both, and she walks about the meadows barefoot and learns from the trees and birds, loves them the way she never loves people only because she has not had the chance. mothers and fauna are all well and good to take lessons from, but they do make a strange girl. she tells her secrets to the bees and watches the far-off puffs of smoke from the farmlands, pretending they are streams from a dragon’s nostrils and not the warmth of a hearth with children her age sitting next to it so that she does not feel sorry for herself. to her, there are but two people: her mother, and the people she trades with. it is not so bad; they are both very good at being alone, and the people of the nearest town are even better at reminding them to stay that way. when they blow into the hamlet on the western breeze maiden makes games of hanging off porches and climbing things that should never be touched, and she laughs so freely all the other children cannot help but come out from their hiding places and join her until their fathers call them back in. not with her, they say. not that one. — but o, how sweet and precocious a child she is when the visitors come, wrists knotted behind her back and eyes tied forward as she questions their intentions and demands, as if in secondary payment, life stories as recompense for mother’s skills. how you would have loved her, i tell you, that girl with her flaxen hair and moon-eyes, tugging on sleeves and walking the verbal-stride of a child who never learned how to shrink herself — how i love her even now! and if i must tell you something else: magic is rarely courteous, and almost never consolatory. when it arrives, no matter how many pieces of furniture i have shifted in my heart to make way for a girl called maiden, it comes with no such open space in its pit. where i have crafted an open sitting parlour it has bedroom sets and wicker fruit baskets and even a few grand lamps (never mind the fact that lamps do not yet exist; in the cavity of magic, there are always lamps), and so when it arrives she feels the weight of all these things dropped upon her head. and mother, who does so well at holding her silence it resembles a newborn babe swathed in cloth, still grips the quiet as carefully as church glass - even with one arm in disuse. you know by now, of course, what has happened. it is no secret to you or i what occurred that day, as some pieces of stories swell until they brush up against the audience independent of the narrative altogether. the effect was grand even if the moment was not, for unfortunately sometimes even the greatest plot devices happen when the writer is sleeping and cannot pause to fancy it all up. one moment a hand is merely a hand passing twine and foxglove, the next it has frozen in place. it might have been a lovely image under any other circumstance: the look of a pale, slim arm grasping a hanging purple head of flowers beneath thick, glittering ice like a delicately painted carving in a snowglobe. But indeed, how the image shook them instead of the other way around. in an effort to distract her, mother peels open the earth’s secrets at the seam and lets her peek into the sticky, moist centers and slurp the knowledge for herself. she shows her how to unfold plant-magic on the large wood table and lessons her on how to use it kindly in poultices and elixirs and bunches of dried ravensmaw. she learns what is used for fresh wounds and the herbs best combined to stave off heartbreak, and they are more similar than you think. but things are, distinctly, never the same: in a house that has only ever had two voices, there arrives a great sweeping of silence. mother is far-away in a place of wondering, the spot where mothers are ought to go when considering how best to protect their child. maiden too spends time in that same seat questioning who it is that has made her and why they stole from two separate bowls of clay, though the pair never seem to sit down and share a table in that place in peace. life goes on this way, i am loathe to report, until it gets worse. there is an awful quiet that does not leave that house, suspended between the unasked questions of what to do and what am i? maiden is kept from leaving the cabin or its surrounding pasture in ever-climbing extents until she is nought but bound to them, and mother makes the trips to the farmlands for supplies alone and ushers her out of the room when clients arrive. so, here she is in full, with flaxen hair and a moon hidden underneath her tongue: clever and strange, curious and lovely, tall and just a little too spindly-boned. a raven, a fox, a rabbit, a riddle, and sometimes a girl. magic bound in bones. a shut-in who never had reason to grow a heart, but did anyway, and now she is left to the lonesome. truly, can we blame her for what she did next, for answering the door all those moons later simply because someone knocked, and letting them in without checking if their teeth were bicuspids or fangs? can we fault that lonely creature for believing she could help, and fixing the tonic herself rather than waiting for mother, as instructed? can we accuse her for what came next, the slimmest moment of ice crystals skittering across a workbench, cold little diamonds that another less-shrewd eye might have ignored, but this one picked out? and what of the day the child got lost with a thorn in its foot, how she snuck from the cabin and cooed for them till it was yanked free, the simple smoothing of her thumb over the sole leaving it smooth as milk — i ask you that, in true: what crimes would you charge her with? do you blame the tiger for its hunting? it is only following nature, after all. or do you cast your stones on the people who threw nets through the trees and called it protection, expecting not to bleed. one cannot take in a wolf and expect it to never look back at the forest, no matter how well fed it is kept. like a flower cannot choose its colour, we cannot help what we become. she could not help what she did. it was only in her nature. so like rain, like a black cloud, like bad omens, the rumours come for the maiden, the one in the meadow, the one in the little wooden hut with the strange-beautiful-alone mother. daughter is even worse than the mother, they say. i heard it was ice — no, wind — nay, she is vitalus too — they build and rise until mother-maiden can hear the gossip in the air, having travelled by raven-feather and west-wind. of course none of it is the truth, for she bares a reality that no one yet knows — something hidden away like an egg inside an egg at the deepest part of the world — but it does not matter. audiences do not look for fact, they clutch only to wickedness or sweetness, as i have already told you. mother grows panicked with hydrangeas of fear spouting out of her ears, demanding a flight to be taken, and daughter lies awake at night wondering how to do so without wings — questioning how it has come to pass that she knows the roots and berries and grass, but not the woods or how to survive in them. you know, still, what happens next. there is another knock at the door, and despite lessons learned, the maiden answers the call: and this time it is death standing there waiting. they come to an agreement. sometimes death, too, is kind. history peeks its lazy, pinned-down eyes around the corner when the maiden of this story leaves her little hovel, fingers made of revolutions and religions clinging tightly to the doorframe to watch her go. the journey is perilous and full of dark places and occasional humour, if you are interested in that kind of adventure. i will tell it another time, when the back of my tongue has been given rest. i wish i could tell you, dear reader, which sort of story this will be: drama or comedy, mask one or mask two. but i don’t know yet. we will find out together, which makes us accomplices, you and i - like colleagues. two thieves after the same jewel. i have told her story because i love her, this much you know to be true by now, because we do not let the ones we love tell war stories. which is, in essence, what every story we can ever tell is: a battle of wits, or a conflict of hearts, or the combat of self against self. there is always a fight against something. it’s the nature of humanity, to push and poke and burn. —- – and now you see what i meant at the beginning of this tale: bargain. girl. magic. all of it comes in that necessary order and none at all. bargain. it arrives first, before her birth, a rumour; at the same time, it is the last twist, the thing that brings her to this castle. girl. she is born; she exists. magic. her blood, her marrow; a complexity of sparks and hope. a beginning, a middle, an end. a circle. a moon. PLOT IDEAS: These are laid out in a potential arc/chronological order of when I see them happening, but with the exception of a few, almost any combination could work! I. SHUCKED FROM PETALS. I’d like to grow Maiden’s role as a botanist -- both in terms of having her interest in botany itself swell, and also expand this into something of an inventor or potioner function. While she’s currently making strange concoctions at the King’s request, as an inherently curious woman I see these demands as something that will spark interest in her to create on her own. While in her youth she quizzed her mother on the applications of leaves and stems, now that she has no mentor for the process, she can only question and find answers by working through the hypotheses and methods herself. II. ON THE BASIS OF MORALITY. I see very strongly Maiden descending further into the plot to assassinate Septimus and joining the group of revolters in a more tangible way. Her ability to fight and knowledge of courtly life are both lacking, but she offers a unique vantage point of visiting all manner of individuals with the perfect excuse -- their health. As she becomes more decidedly entangled in the rebellion efforts and subsequently offers up her services to them, she begins to craft salves and potions with hidden effects, used in application against those they stand against (a poultice made with an herb that lends to truth when tending to someone with information / a drought with added pollen so that a guard may sleep through their shift that night, etc). Less fleshed out, but still worth noting: if the laced salves and elixirs are a no-go, she could slide into something of a spy/informant role fairly easy. Again, she has easy access to any array of people as the castle, and can come and go from different bedsides silently -- listening in on conversations all the while. III. FASTER THAN MINE ARROW. At the behest of the revolution -- where intentions ring with righteousness yet impact may be less virtuous -- I see Maiden encouraged to embrace her Inferni powers by rebel cohorts. While it’s not a path I see her arriving at and walking on her own, as she entrenches herself in the ideals and plots of the revolution, it would still be a willingly-made choice -- albeit perhaps still a reluctant one. She far prefers to heal than harm, but as the plot to kill Septimus ripens, she would accept the notion that an offensive skill gained by her becomes a shield and sword to the cause. I interpret this as less of an embrace of violence and more an eventual acceptance of her magic in all its parts; Maiden removing her gloves and making attempts at practicing Inferni magic brings with it an acknowledgement that not only are these powers part of her but they are hers alone to control. If she can develop some mastery over them, she can use them as she sees morally right, rather than their use dictated to her by others (so she believes). I want to see her not think of her magic as an intrusion and a mystery, but rather some native at the pit of her -- like stone in a fruit. As long as it is there, one could not bite straight through her. Sub-bullet because it’s not a huge thing, but I’d love a moment where she’s practicing with the ice in the greenhouse and loses control, subsequently destroying much of the flora in there beyond salvation -- cue a sobbing Maiden. Also! Would love to use this as an excuse for the Hierophant to become a sort-of mentor for her -- a dynamic she would undoubtedly seek out and beg for if the time came. IV. WHERE TRUTHS CONFLICT. As clearly as I envision Maiden’s loyalties knotting tighter to the revolutionaries, I don’t believe her resolution is iron in every aspect. While she may agree that King Septimus needs to be removed, deciding which successor she wishes to support would be far harder. This plot could be as simple as indecision and uncertainty on Maiden’s part, or could be as complex as a more nefarious individual taking advantage of her courtly ignorance and indecisiveness by manipulating her into backing their pick for future ruler. V. THE CURE & THE RUIN. Working intimately with anything lends to cross-contamination -- including poisonous plants. My thoughts on this fork a few different ways here, albeit my personal fave is the first bullet: Through her own misinformation or inexperience, Maiden accidentally begins to poison herself through prolonged exposure to toxic flora and their materials. Seeing as she’s in the greenhouse for hours at a time nearly every day, this would lend to a good, steady incline of symptoms -- paranoia, delusion, hallucinations, etc until they potentially culminate in a kind of temporary “madness.” An individual or party on the loyalist side discovers what she is doing for the revolters, and applies the same concept -- a slow poisoning, made to look accidental by exposure to the wrong flower. This may be less likely as it might be implausible for another character to have a knowledge of botany that surpasses her own and plant something toxic in the Greenhouse without Maiden realizing, but I’m totally open to it! Similar to the last, rather than a loyalist poisoning Maiden, they find a way to access her stash of concoctions and alter them so that they harm rather than heal those she is working with. Could be particularly dramatic if she is working long-term on a member of royalty or influential revolution member -- ie. something like visiting them daily to apply salve on a new wound that needs consistent tending. VI. WHAT ARE YOU, SWEET CREATURE? Maiden’s dual powers are bound to come into public knowledge eventually, and I think there’s the opportunity for some terror and delight there. I’ve been ruminating a lot on what the hybrid of her Inferni and Vitalus powers mean -- An Inferni rarely lives past thirty, and Maiden is already twenty-five. I’ve been imagining that she has not seen or felt the costs of her power like other Inferni due to the innate nature to heal, which is undoubtedly something other Inferni would desire. Whether Maiden willingly lays herself down to experimentation in the name of aiding the Hierophant or she’s literally captured by Septimus and crew for a less careful kind of research -- I’d love to see her secret blown up and her safety compromised as a result. VII. IT HURTS TO BECOME. I have little octopus tentacles coming out of this plot because I can see multiple variations on the same idea, so -- As inspired by the “Vitalis magic often manifests itself in nobility” line from the magic page, Maiden is discovered as the descendent of a noble bloodline. This could mean her father was the bearer of a title, or that even in a Mother Gothel-esque fashion her mother took her from a family in the desire to have her own child (though I favour the former). This is less about an advancement in her social standing/hierarchy and more about playing further with the themes of birth and identity. Particularly as an individual that isn’t well-matched to courtly manner and expectations, what would it be to disturb her peculiar existence further and force her into a lifestyle she has no interest in? How does it detract from her purpose and goals? Her mother is found out as someone who previously stayed at the Temple of the Undying and departed in some form of scandal known to the High Priestess. I think this would be particularly impactful if her mother’s time there overlapped directly with the High Priestess, and their relationship marked by some form of betrayal on her mother’s end. This would make her mother a necromancer, a fact that if going from this route was certainly kept from Maiden, or we could work with the concept that perhaps she was merely an emissary there. This bullet is less formed as it would require plotting with at least one other player, but essentially it boils down to braiding the High Priestess into her backstory (or, at least, the Temple of the Undying) -- a completion of the maiden/mother/crone build, if you will. Realistically, the above could be combined -- her mother has a past tied to both the Temple of the Undying, and her father is of noble descent. Lastly, this idea could also be twisted into a falsehood/manipulation of someone from Septimus/the Loyalist side -- she does not have noble blood and/or her mother’s past is made up, but they have fed her this story(s) in an attempt to distract/derail her from her purpose, or otherwise sway her onto the side of the Crown. VIII. THE MAIDEN IN THE TOWER. I see very clearly what Maiden could be in years time -- in the same way the King has the Tower, or perhaps even The High Priestess, I envision the capacity for Maiden to become an advisor in the arcane arts to the future ruler. This is very epilogue-esque content, the resolution to a tale long told, something far-off and subject to change depending on how the roleplay unfolds -- but if I was planning her arc from where I stand now, that would be the resolution. A femme!Merlin now in tune with her magicks, a strange figure forever working away in her greenhouse-laboratory in the highest room in the tallest tower, descending to the court only to offer counsel and smile at a few bugs… art. And maybe, just maybe, there’s even a bard out there singing about a strange moon-touched woman and her magic, who came from the Farmlands and ended up in a castle. That, I think, would make an awfully good story. CHARACTER DEATH: I’m definitely not opposed to it! If you see a plotline where her death makes sense I’m open to at least having the discussion -- it would probably depend how I’m feeling about her character development, as I do see quite clearly how far Maiden could develop with extensive, long-term rping (the Merlin-esque shit) and it’d be super cool to get there. WRITING SAMPLE SAMPLE #01. TWENTY-FIVE. CASTLE TYRHOLM, THE GREENHOUSE. Based on headcanons found in the extra section! it is the damnable wine she calls to blame for her recession from the great hall. yet still unused to its potency, it turns her stomach and her mind with it, until she is unbalanced and sure a marble placed upon the centre of her would roll only to one side, lolling comically behind her left ear. maiden swears she can hears it as she takes her leave from the night’s feast, a hideous clacking circling around her skull as she takes the steps to the greenhouse. the sound was a well accompaniment to the noise of heart against rib, that lub lub that reminisced so closely to collection of stones in a velvet satchel. how is that for an appraisal, she thinks. an inferni and a vitalus yet, and yet you cannot even hold your liquor. down below, music begins. septimus is performing one of his many wonders, conjuring up new entertainments like a foreigner’s god and his labours – things meant to fell mortal men in their spectacle. the sound, though muffled by stone, is light and deceptive with a beat kept by tambourine and wound through with panpipes. it crashes and crawls as a serpent through brush, dragging its body across the span of men’s shoulders and up the marble spires until it reaches the slender ankles of maiden high above, who slips from the darling (albeit pinching) satin slippers borrowed from the magician. o, that that song had teeth. it would sink them pit-deep into that lovely, exposed ankle. the footfalls that emerge from the far entrance are remote in distance, yet the cadence of it -- quick and spry, in the pattern of a courtly dance -- are close and recognized by ear in an instant. “your skill is in the making of noise, bard. so i would suggest --” she calls to armel with a bland hum, bent over a troop of growing windflowers as she cuts the largest at the stalk, her sharp fingernail used in place of scissors. “leaving behind these foolhardy attempts to remove sound from your being altogether.” maiden looks up then to the musician’s hiding place, half-covered as he is by bushes camellias and hanging vines. the look given beneath her brows is chiding, but it is a reproach with a single candle lit within, a glance perhaps warmed by liquor despite its meaning. “how do you always do that?” he asks, and maiden decides there is something rather feline about him as he emerges from the brush, shoulders rolling with that mandolin hoisted over one. “i didn’t say a word.” “you do not need to. your stroll speaks for you.” the air is moon-hot and the music swells below them, rising like tide to their knees, now their hips. her voice is cut-rope, one end loose in the water, and maiden lets the tide of the pull her, only one end remaining on shore. “asides…” she sighs, “you limp on the left.” “i do not.” “indeed you do. like a horse with a lame leg.” it is a full-force lie, dropped into a casket of wine and pulled out stinking, and armel catches her half-crescent smile at the same moment he spots her bare feet. “i suppose you won’t be returning to the ball, then.” maiden turns and takes to walking the length of the greenery. her back turns to him, but not unkindly; instead her slow, graceful gait seems an invitation to join, though he does not follow. she listens to armel as she winds through the tall grass, eyes upon the stalks, searching for anything that might catch her eye. in the moonlight she is all silhouette and odd-shapes, ever and always a little too-tall, a little too sharp-boned at the joints. but when she moves like this, slow and easily-flooded as moonlight itself, one could forget all that. “dancing slippers are quite unsuitably named,” she says by way of answer as the bard begins an absent strum on his instrument. “they give me no motivation at all to partake in such merriment.” armel does not answer, instead quite pensively continuing to pluck at notes while looking at the near distance -- assumedly undergoing great internal debate as to whether or not he was, truly, a lame horse. “a peace —” she slides the long stem of a gore-red windflower behind his ear when next she passes, as natural a move as though it were but tucking a strand of her own hair behind her ear. maiden smiles. “you actually limp on the right.” //

SAMPLE #02. AGE FIFTEEN. A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS & A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. Fire, it would seem, had ceased to be a friend to her. As a girl she had delighted in it, waving her hands above it, warming herself on it, staring at every passing wooden cart laden with people in the chance that one of them could be a fire-eater. Ice, that thing that ate and yawned across lakes and thatched roofs as if it remembered it had once devoured the world, was far more cruel in Maiden’s opinion. Could I not, at least, have had that which heats and provides sustenance? And more than even these sweet instances from childhood, she knew of fire intimately as an adult. It was a different kind of flame that brewed in her than what ran free in the wild; it was less violent and more warm, meant for thawing out the cold hands of children or creating delightful ever-shifting silhouettes on walls. She walked alone because she liked it, and spoke to strangers for great lengths of time because it excited her. That was her kind of fire, and so Maiden - it could be said - was as much flame as anyone, even as she chilled the air around her with her very presence. That was why, as she sat on her knees before the great outstretching flames of the parlour’s hearth, she had no caution as she threw paper into its guts. “Enough of this!” The girl was alone, but spoke aloud: it was part of her charm. Like a girl in a folktale who was subjected to life in a tower, she existed brightly when on her own because she knew no other way. The Mallorian girl did not need the accompaniment of another to prove her own worth. The fire sputtered charmingly in response, engorging itself as it swallowed paper and turned it into little pieces of nothingness. “No more curses, no more ice or damned magic!” Her hand shakes, but her heart holds its breath and remains steady. Stained at the tips with ash and melted ink, Maiden sits back on her thighs with a great tremble and stares into the flames before she falls to the pose of prayer. “Undying God, harbinger of all things, if this is your doing, let it be undone. I have wronged you not at all, nor my mother; I am not your child. Please.” Her ears burned pink with fear for addressing a deity with the same volume she would have a man standing before her, but it was too early to stop now. She pauses momentarily, straining to listen for a rumbling voice come from within the fire or swung in on the wind and branches. There is nothing but the crackle of pop of breaking wood. “Then -- then if it is the household spirits come for me, unhappy gnomes with rumbling tummies ‘for we have not been feeding them, emerge now! Or call it all off! Call it off, I say, spirits - take this magic from me so I may live in peace!” Again, she waits. And perhaps, if you would hold your hands over the ears of your heart and allow this young woman to admit it, she might have told you that she truly expected a troll-like little fellow with a green cap and scowling mug to emerge from beneath the ottoman. But there still is nothing, not even the tap of impatient little feet from behind the curtains, and her brows furrow as she stares into the hot gold and rose colours of the fire. Maiden sighs, a heavy breath that drops out of her mouth and rolls into the soot of the hearth. She suddenly feels much too old for these follies. Looking over at the pile of hastily-written spells and official decrees of intent (from Maiden to the Undying God, officially) to rid herself of this curse, the wheat-and-snow coloured girl pauses (and it pains me to say it, dearest reader, but the truth of the matter is that in the light of this blaze, she very much resembles the beautiful women you read about who either have very tragic ends or very wonderful ones in tales you all know). She had burned not even half yet, each one a representation of a day that had been ruined by questions or cold or mother’s worry, and there were still more to go. But no sign of the Undying in her great black steed, or impish house elves crawling out from the cracks beneath the woods. For a moment, she considers stopping. She considers picking up the remainder of the letters, tying them up with some of mother’s twine, and returning them to their proper drawer in the study. But as her hand hovers of the papyrus, her heart protests and causes her to pause. She is, after all, no girl in the tower. She will not sit in anybody’s stomach and wait for the woodsman. And if, in the odd and unusual chance that this circumstance of odd and unusual proportions is caused by something otherworldly, Maiden Mallorian shall not bow to it. No, no bowing indeed. “Now listen here --” Her voice raises, grows taller and older. It might be imagination, but the fire seems to as well. “Whether you be Undying God or lowly household gnome, I shall have no more of this. Do you understand? Are you listening, creatures?” There is nothing so impressive as unafraid, youthful folly. “I shall not be carried away to a cold temple to be a child of misery, and will not let this magic ruin me if you shall not bring me answers. If one of you are indeed responsible for this, it ends now. I am Maiden Mallorian, daughter of Yareli; and a right all in my own!” The sweet curves of her breasts rise and fall like toppling empires as she throws the remainder of the pages into the fire, staring fiercely into the contents as if to decipher an answer in their ash. There is a sudden seizure in her instead, a tight and pressing thing foreign to her soft-spun body. It demands something of her, as intent as fingers pressing into her ribs. She picks up the letter opener at her side, brought from the study to slide open old envelopes, but now she raises it to her chin and cuts in one fell swoop. It does not happen with ease, but off comes a handful of her hair. The edges of her locks are jagged, but the pieces in her palm look like fine oat straw that glitter in the light. She throws that, too, into the pile, and does not realize it has chilled. “There.” She speaks. It is solid and sure and sane. “There is my tribute.” Magic cannot be made by offering someone else’s liver. You must tear out your own and never expect to get it back. “Please... take it away.” Her voice, once grand and ringing of dynasties past, now calms. She begins to sound once more like only a girl of this century. “I am… Maiden Mallorian… and I do not wish to live a life of unhappiness.” The strength that once held her shoulders aloft departs in a gentle breath, leaving her soft to touch -- quivering. “If you shall not take this from me... I will make my own way, no matter who has done this -- be it God or beast or some creature in between --” She stands, in possession of some quiet power. “One day I will find my truth. And then I will know a free heart at last.” She leaves before the paper and hair have all disappeared, trusting the fire -- that once-longtime friend, that formerly beloved and willingly indentured servant -- to do as it is meant to. As the cold evening wages on the flame starts to die, and, left unattended, everything turns to ash. All that is left in the hearth of the Mallorian home is the same colour: black. But it is not a frightening colour if you look closely. It seems, perhaps, the ink in this story is drying. It is time for a new chapter.

EXTRAS A NOTE ON ~MAGICK: I just wanted to state that while I loved imbuing her story/personality with themes of oddity and enchantment, I don’t expect any of these things to be real. Her biography was supposed to be an exaggerated verbal retelling, and in example: the rumour that Maiden’s birth was the result of not a normal conception but pure willpower and magic is just that -- hearsay crafted by unnerved townsfolk trying to justify a strange, unmarried woman in the woods and her peculiar daughter. I’m also not sure what balance you’re looking to strike between realism and fantasy, so if things like her pet owl are too much the former -- no problem!! I could definitely tone down anything you think is too out there! PINTEREST: here. MUSE TAG: here. CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS BIG AND SMALL!: Kayley (Quest for Camelot), Garrett (Quest for Camelot), Phoebe Buffay (Friends), Amalthea (The Last Unicorn), Rapunzel (Tangled), Merlin (The Sword in the Stone), Arthur (The Sword in the Stone), Taran (The Black Cauldron), Eilonwy (The Black Cauldron), Katrina van Tassel (Sleepy Hollow (1999)), Nimue/Lady of the Lake (Arthurian mythology), Honey Lemon (Big Hero 6), Vasya Petrovna (The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden), Kida (Atlantis: The Lost Empire), The Mage (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Thumbelina (fairytale), Circe (Circe by Madeline Miller), Yvaine (Stardust) HEADCANONS: She has a mild form of associative prosopagnosia, a type of facial blindness. While Maiden can distinguish faces from one another, it’s essentially difficult for her to recognize those she’s newly met or has not known (and subsequently seen) for a certain amount of time. As her youth in the woods meant infrequent visits from varying strangers and acquaintances, Maiden learned from a very young age to identify those she met with other signifiers -- the pitch of their voice, their cadence, the pattern of their boots on her mother’s shop’s creaky wood floor -- and she has become exceptional at it. While she may struggle to associate new faces with names, if she has heard your voice or the template of your gait, it is likely she can recognize you from the sound of these alone in the next room. Contingent on the above, I like to picture a longstanding game between Armel and Maiden with him attempting to sneak up on her, trying to outdo her hearing abilities only to be smoothly called out each time -- like the first twenty seconds of this scene from Tarzan. -- And obviously this was inspo for one of my writing samples! Major sweet tooth, and most likely has a standing relationship with The Hanged Man who provides her with desserts in exchange for tonics or pouches of seasoning curated from Maiden’s personal collection up in the greenhouse. Alternatively, she’s The Hanged Man’s personal Garfield, constantly being chased out of the kitchen before she can stick a finger in icing or steal a hot bun. Another Armel headcanon because I’m a sucker for a Found Sibling dynamic: Maiden has been teasing him for ages with the concept of knowing (and withholding) an Epic Folksong that her mother taught her and that would be just perfect for him to perform. There’s every likelihood that there is no song and she’s made it up to amuse herself, but every once and a while she hums a foreign tune or drops a few words from the “lyrics” to keep him interested. If it is a real song, bonus points if she’s making Armel do little chores etc to earn another piece of the song. Subject to plotting with Death’s player, I imagine her nickname/alias Triss was borne from a singular moment where they introduced her to someone within the castle upon arrival -- only to bluster that she used that strange name, Maiden, which confused the third party. Death makes a quick save by adding that “she means only that she is a maiden from the Farmlands,” and creating the assumed name on the spot, forcing Maiden to adopt it. Both due to falling asleep atop a text after extensive nights reading and researching and the comfort of being around plants, Maiden often sleeps in the greenhouse -- in fact, she prefers it to the cramped quarters she’s been given, and keeps a spare blanket there at all times. In the greenhouse has also come into residence a fat, one-eyed grey cat who she has named Augrunn, known affectionately (or otherwise) Auggie. Grumpy and demanding, Maiden found him taking shelter in the greenhouse on a particularly rainy day, and though he comes and goes as he pleases, it’s now effectively his home. Auggie is known to both yowl for personal space if you’re too close and swipe if you stop petting him too early. Similarly, Maiden has an owl-friend whose name I haven’t decided on, but the front-runner is currently Archimedes. Unbothered by Augrunn’s attempts to snatch him out of the air, he’s a chill little feather-loaf that watches the comings and goings of the greenhouse from the carved wood perch she has made him. He is aware of the location of Maiden’s sleeping quarters, and can occasionally be found sitting on her windowsill when she’s there. She bruises very easily, even in circumstances unrelated to use of her Inferni magic -- just as likely to get a mark from walking into a corner as she is to scar from the use of her ice powers. Insects don’t bother her in the slightest. Growing up in a small home filled with plants, there were always bugs crawling around the flora, and Maiden appreciates them all. She will 100% pick up the scary spider you’re flinching from and make sure they get back to their web. Prefers to be barefoot, and likely does not share the same feelings of taboo around exposed skin as most others -- to her, flesh is only flesh, and a very natural thing at that. Temperature is a funny thing for her -- given that she seems to emanate a kind of cold, I think it stands to reason that she doesn’t easily chill, but that it is also hard to heat her up. I picture it like a normal hand held above a flame, then one stuck in the snow -- it’s going to take longer for her to melt before she feels any pain from the fire. CONNECTIONS: *Obligatory these are just ideas and I’m totally open when it comes time to plotting with these players! THE HIEROPHANT: Chihiro and Haku vibes (that sort-of-romance entirely unnecessary, though I would be down for Maiden to have a little crush), basically. Give me a Maiden as impressed by their showy nature as their inner fire to overthrow Septimus -- an Inferni mentor, even, or just an individual that helps guide her through the dangers of Tyrholm’s court. Also… ice and fire... I meant to do more but ran out of time rip

#accepted #accepted: the moon

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joie-university-rp · 5 years ago

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Dear NIKKOLAI PRESCOTT,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

Congratulations, MOE! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias; pronouns: Moe; She/her

Age, Timezone: 21 ; EST

Activity, short explanation: Still just always here, Man.

Ships: Nikko/Chemistry, Nikko/Forced (for plot)

Anti-Ships: Nikko/Forced (endgame)

Triggers: N/a

Preferred photo for Character’s ID (please give a link): I make the graphics. I’ll just find one l8er.

Anything else: Hey, Dais. Love ya. :*

IC INFORMATION:

Full Name (First, Middle, Last): Nikkolai “Nikko” Asa Prescott [Abrams cousin]

FC: Elliot Fletcher

Age/Year at University (Freshman [1st Year], Sophomore, Junior, Senior, or Graduate Student): 18, Freshman

Birth date (MONTH DAY, YEAR): April 1st, 2001

Hometown (please be sure to check the hometowns listed for characters your muse is related to!): St. Louis, MO

Gender/Pronouns: Transmale ; he/him

Sexuality: Pansexual

Major(s): Business Studies

Minor(s) [optional]: Religious Studies

Housing request (remember, only the president of a Greek Organization is required to live at a Greek House to be in it!): Beiste 126

Extracurriculars (Click here for the list. Be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, secretary, etc.] If something isn’t listed, please put it here and we will add it to the masterlist!): Comedy; esports; basketball; volleyball; I’m All Ears, Peer Listening Group [Founder & president]

Greek Life Affiliation [optional] (Please be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, pledge educator, etc.] or if your character is not yet a member, but plans to rush): AΞΛ

CHARACTER PROFILE:

Nikko grew up on “the wrong side of the wrong side” of the tracks and came from a family that could’ve confused The Wire for a neighborhood documentary. Essentially the only income their family received was through their father’s slinging and stealing, which father Sean kept under lock and key.

Once of Nikko’s saving graces was that he was the youngest of the Prescott family by quite a bit. The closest member in age to him was his brother Monty who was 4 years his senior. By the time Nikko reached his formative years, their family paid less attention to him, what he was doing, and where he was going. For someone less self-motivated, this could’ve spelt disaster, but for Nikko, it allowed him to search for small chunks of stability elsewhere.

For example, by enrolling himself in some community afterschool programs where he did things like tutor at the local elementary school, he was able to start to realize the love he had for helping others, especially children.

When Nikko entered middle school, after much deliberation, he decided to come out to the one member of his family that he felt he could possibly trust: Monty. At the beginning, he was met with many uneducated questions and some accidental hurt feelings, but once he was able to slowly get his closest-aged brother on his side, Monty became his right hand man. With Monty’s (scheme-filled) help, he was able to quietly begin his transition and even find an understanding therapist so he could receive a bit of the mental guidance he would need to traverse being transgender in a broken community like their home neighborhood.

However, even with Monty’s selfless sacrifices to help his brother, when it came to opinions on other things, the two never saw eye to eye. Where Monty was cold and calculating, Nikko was warm and wanted nothing more than to please others. The first few debates ended in a draw, but over time, it grew to feel that an argument between the two was never far from the horizon. After a while, in order to save his relationship with Monty, Nikko learned what things he could and could not talk to his older brother about.

In one last stitch effort to show solidarity to his older brother, when Nikko turned 18 and legally changed his name, he chose Nikkolai–a name that he and Monty both agreed was equally as pretentious as ‘Montgomery’.

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

(Please answer the following questions IN CHARACTER. Responses can be as long or short as you see fit!)

What made you want to attend Joie University? “Well, if I’m completely honest, it’s hard to turn down anywhere that offers a free ride. Especially where I’m from. But it also has the added bonus of being where Monty went for undergrad and where my cousins Spencer and Arthur go, although, thanks to our parents, we don’t talk much nowadays…”

What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess? “I’d definitely consider myself someone who’s optimistic–although sometimes to a fault. I’m also accommodating and empathetic–although that can sometimes be to a fault too… What’s something I am that isn’t double edged? I’m determined. And freethinking. …Although depending on who you ask, that could be negative too.”

Which of your traits do you value most? “In myself? Either my empathy or my free thinking. It’s a benefit. Both for myself and for the people around me.”

How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole? “So much of the time, all someone needs is someone willing to listen to them and be a shoulder they can cry on. That’s why I know my empathy will help, especially at a school like this one.”

What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU? “More than anything, I want to learn the best way to approach and help others so that I can fulfill my dream of creating an after school program for children in situations like the one I grew up in in a neighborhood like mine. I’m already getting some practice by creating my Peer Listening Group where people are allowed to come to Holiday 213 and confidentially talk to myself or other members about whatever they’d like.”

What is a quote or song lyric that describes you? “And in my mind After all this time I think, ain’t life beautiful and strange I’m blown away With no words to say ‘Cause I, I’ll forever be amazed How I learned the meaning of the phrase Be brave”

#Accepted

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choicetherapy-blog · 7 years ago

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// so just some thoughts about the finale because this is the most appropriate blog I have to share them on. I swear I still roleplay but just let me talk about some of the elements of it’s reception that amuse and baffle me.

People who are mad becasue it wasn’t about the evil Morty subplot. I’m in the tags right now laughing my ass off at all the people salty about the finale because of this. Like, after ALL this time you really expected it to be something YOU expected? What show are you even watching? Doing what you expect is literally the polar opposite of everything this show stands for.

People who say the Ricklantis Mixup would have made a better finale. From a traditional storytelling perspective? Yes, absolutely. But see above. The show as a whole deliberately tricked you, and you can either feel offended by that or laugh about it like me.

People who say “at least it wasn’t a cliffhanger”. Like it almost feels like just as much of a cliffhanger as the last season finale to me? It’s a more subtle cliffhanger for sure, no one is in prison, but it left an equal amount of unanswered questions, and the same empty feeling that I only avoided last time because I didn’t start watching Rick and Morty properly until after 4/1/17.

People who are complaining the development was rushed/came out of nowhere. Um??? Yeah that’s kind of the point?? There are literally only two options I see here, and that’s that either Beth really IS a clone, or this is a temporary thing for reasons that have everything to do with Beth’s arch. She’s spent the entire season deconstructing who she is as a person until all she had left was to try and rediscover and reconstruct herself. This is one possible path: forcing herself to start trying to reconstruct that in a way she sees as what she wants, the ideal. I mean, isn’t that basically what Rick’s advice was at it’s core when she asked him who she was? Be whoever the fuck you want to be. Of course, forcing it like this is going to crash down on her if that’s the case, and I’m sure we’ll see that in season 4 if that’s the route they’re going. I kind of hope it is, not because I want Beth to be unhappy, but because I want to her to heal the wound, not just stick a band-aid on it.

People who actually think they got Beth and Jerry back together because the writers couldn’t think of anything else to tie all the rest together with and genuinely meant it when they said they wanted it to be like season 1 again. We really haven’t been watching the same show, have we?

People who are mad because an canonically asshole character was confirmed to be autistic. OK first off, no he wasn’t. Rick being autistic is still a headcanon, not a canon fact. It’s a headcanon with SUBSTANTIAL evidence, but you can just as easily read it as “well if autistic people like it maybe it’s cool then”, because that would be a subversion of the usual shit joke that is completely in line with this show’s sense of humor. Second, even if he IS autistic, so what?? When are you people going to get it through your heads that most creators aren’t trying to embody an entire people when they give a trait to one of their characters? In fact, when you hold them to this impossible standard, it makes people want ot do this LESS in fiction, so please fuck off. Autistic people can be assholes too.

#The Rickchurian Mortydate #;ooc

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derangedsilence · 5 years ago

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Subaru Sakamaki

Permissions

Shipping? Yes. Singleship per verse with limited verses. Please note - as stated on the rules page, orientation is typically listed as what the muses think they are.

Duplicates? Multiple ‘Yuis’? What about character that aren’t on the dedicated castmates list? Yes. You can thrust Subaru at Subaru. There’s also no issue with duplicates of canon, crossover, etc. characters that Subaru is already interacting with. You want it, you got it. To prevent destroying the validity of duplicate muses, I will sometimes think of things as ‘A Kanato did this’ instead of ‘Kanato did this’, which is a very subtle difference but prevents another muse from having to deal with the blame of an event they were not responsible for. This will only be differentiated as necessary within writing. I repeat: all duplicate muses will be treated with respect, not as ‘fakes’. Any Sakamaki brother is a brother of his, regardless of how many Kanatos there are (for example). We’re just going to, uh, slide past that as often as possible (and occasionally make jokes).

Multiple Subarus will be treated as though they’d somehow wandered into one’s world or the other via some enchanted, strange object or doorway in the Sakamaki household. This allows them to interact, but prevents the concept that one is a ‘true’ Subaru over the other. You have been warned.

Fighting? A-Okay. I’ve done a lot of fighting roleplay but it was in the past and I’m way more interested in the storytelling of it. It’s better that we discuss the end result beforehand for smoother sailing, but we can improv it as well. I do this from a storytelling perspective.

Harming? A-Okay! Just be aware that this muse may harm or kill yours in turn!

Killing? A-Okay! Please be aware, however, that should the need or desire to continue the verse arise, the death scene will be considered a what-if. In addition, it is very difficult to kill this muse due to the pureblood resurrection abilities.

Can we send shippy memes / etc.? Sure, we can still explore what-ifs, drabbles and oneshot threads, but the main focus will be on the storyline here!

Can we know Yui has Cordelia’s heart, is possibly turning into a vampire, is surrounded by vampires, etc. and reference this to Subaru? On a case-by-case basis. It should be discovered organically if it’s not something your character would be able to know already. There’s plenty of situations where this would make sense.

Can we know about Subaru’s past before interacting? No, not unless you have genuine reasons for it like being one of his brothers.

Can we have characters comment on the events of the timeline? Yes, if they “catch sight of”, “overhear a rumor”, “a familiar saw X”, or any other sensible reason, then characters can be aware of and comment on events. I wholly encourage characters participate in Subaru’s life! Please tell the story with me!

Can we rescue Yui Komori from the Sakamaki household? Unlikely. At best, if you succeed in the first place, it’s entirely likely that they will find you, they will take Yui back, and they will kill one or both of you for this. Or the Mukamis might take advantage of the situation! Obviously, the exception here is the Mukamis, who are entirely expected to attempt this from time to time.

Can we reference interactions we’ve had with your Kanato, etc. to Subaru? I mean...sure? If you want? I’m fine with using my muses for plot and timeline advancements for myself and those I interact with (within limits) but I’d also prefer to not be my Ayato’s Kanato and vice versa, so this would probably be limited. You can still act like what’s happened has happened, though.

Biography / Stats

FULL NAME. Subaru Sakamaki ALIAS. Subaru-kun (Yui), Hermit/Shut-In (Ayato) AGE. Appears 16-17 || Actually significantly older BIRTHDAY. November 4 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male, he/him ORIENTATION. Heterosexual...? SPECIES. Vampire OCCUPATION. High school student of the night school known as Ryoutei Academy. 1st year in HDB, 2nd year if assuming time has passed. RESIDENCE. Sakamaki residence, Japan

HAIR. White, silverish, lavender-ish, faintly reddish EYES. Red, reddish-pink BUILD. Athletic (mostly from all the street-fighting) HEIGHT. 5'10'' (178cm) TATTOOS. None PIERCINGS. None. ADDITIONAL MARKINGS. Wears a necklace twice-wrapped around his neck with a golden key hanging from it. OTHER. Left-handed

ZODIAC. Scorpio ALIGNMENT. Chaotic Good (kind of...) POSITIVE TRAITS. sincere, protective, sensitive NEGATIVE TRAITS. violent, foul-tempered, distrustful

BIRTH PLACE. Japan NATIONALITY. Japanese PARENTS. Karlheinz (Alive?), Christa (Alive?) SIBLINGS. Paternal Half-siblings: Shuu, Reiji, and the triplets (Ayato, Kanato, Laito) EXTENDED FAMILY. Karlheinz's other wives, Beatrix and Cordelia. Richter (Uncle). EDUCATION. High school (likely several times over) SPECIES. Vampire NOTABLE SKILLS. Hand-to-hand combat, swordfighting, knife-fighting, street fighting... LANGUAGES. Japanese, English FAVORITE FOOD. None

PUREBLOOD. Inhuman strength, increased speed, vision, hearing, and smell. Fast healing & healing saliva. TELEPORTATION. Can teleport instantaneously. FLYING. He can fly on a full moon. OTHER. If any additional skills unique to himself exist, it’s not elaborated on much. WEAKNESSES. Truly holy objects weaken him, but not by much. Has a hard time controlling himself when he’s thirsty for blood. DISLIKES. Himself, his mother’s episodes, people forcing someone into a position that resembles his mother’s situation

Appearance

[*Credit: Appearance section pulled directly from the Dialovers Wiki.]

Subaru has silverish light-lavender, whitish hair with reddish tones, making his hair color not too dissimilar from his brother Kanato’s far-less-pale “purple”. He has scarlet red eyes with a slight pinkish hue.

In HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL, he is usually seen wearing a black jacket with a red shirt underneath which has a brown belt around it. The ends of the red shirt appear to be ripped/shredded. He also wears black jeans and a necklace that is wrapped twice around his neck with a golden-colored key on it.

In MORE, BLOOD, he wears a black jacket with a black shirt underneath. He also wears black pants and has a black sweater around his waist. He wears the necklace with this outfit as well.

His school uniform consists of the black school blazer with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and a black shirt underneath that is ripped near the bottom and a white shirt underneath it which is longer and is also ripped at the bottom. There is a small chain loop on the bottom left side of the jacket. He wears it with the standard uniform pants. He also wears white heeled boots. He wears a wrist band on his left arm. He wears the necklace with this as well.

Personality

A loner, Subaru sticks to himself and tries to avoid getting involved. He sees no point in getting involved in the mess that is his family and often attempts to avoid it until he cannot resist some kind of response.

A delinquent, Subaru is violent and loves getting into fights. He frequently breaks objects with little regard. In contrast, he is gentle, but it’s buried underneath considering himself filthy, ignorant, unwanted and generally awful. Rather than deliberately show his nicer traits, he spends most of his time trying to push anyone and everyone away and out of his life so he can remain alone.

He absolutely abhors his father and loves his mother very much, but his feelings with his mother are...complicated. His mother is prone to extreme episodes that intensely frame how she sees and responds to both Karlheinz, her brother and husband, as well as Subaru himself, their child. She would often ask him to kill her or attempt to harm him. Originally blaming only his father, when Subaru tried to protect her from Karlheinz she rejected him, slapped him hard and ran to his father’s arms. Subaru’s feelings towards women is...confused, at best. At worst, he finds them difficult to trust and believe in.

History

CHILDHOOD. The only child of Christa and Karlheinz and the youngest of the Sakamaki boys, much of his life was an early rollercoaster. His mother was extremely mentally unstable after realizing that Karlheinz never loved her and only wanted to use her to create an incest child for the sake of his experiments. She hated Subaru before he was even born because of this, considering him impure and filthy. Christa frequently begged Subaru to kill her or would try to harm him herself. Once Subaru realized that his mother truly loved Karlheinz to the point of being willing to harm Subaru for trying to protect her from him, Subaru was floored, unable to know what such a woman really wanted.

Eventually, he met his brothers at a dinner party where all three wives brought the children to. His first thoughts on the siblings were that he absolutely did not want to get involved with them.

NEAR CURRENT. Karlheinz manipulated circumstances to keep tossing experimental sacrificial brides at his children. None could endure the blood loss, physical and emotional torment. The sacrificial brides were too fragile and the Sakamakis broke their toys.

CURRENT. A single sacrificial bride is surviving and enduring: Yui Komori. Whichever brother obtains her will become the Sakamaki heir. Without directly entering into a “relationship” with any of the Sakamakis, she endures her stay there.

Verses

Brief summaries of the verses for Subaru along with potential links for those less familiar with Diabolik Lovers but still want to interact with him. For the sake of keeping things clean, encouraging community-wide and cooperative storytelling in roleplay, and not letting things get too crazy, verses will be limited. More may be made over time as needed.

Summaries:

VERSE - HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL

*This verse will be typically be the default, 'main verse'. In this, it is assumed that Yui Komori is staying at the Sakamaki household with some version of the first game having taken place. If the second game is included, it's with the idea that Yui stayed with the Sakamakis. Whether Subaru or one of his brothers winds up obtaining the Sacrificial Bride, Subaru’s life continues.

Verse Details | Tag: #V; SUBARU; HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL

VERSE - MORE BLOOD

If for some reason it's absolutely necessary to differentiate between the verse above and a verse where More Blood has certainly occured, but Yui did not (at least initially) stay with the Sakamakis and instead is currently living with the Mukamis or was, until recently, still living with the Mukamis. Rivalry abounds and attempts to procure Yui are likely.

Verse Details | Tag: #V; SUBARU; MORE BLOOD

VERSE - MISC.

Posts that could take place in the Sakamaki or Mukami verses but involve duplicates (whether Yui or others) in the same scene in a manner that would be hard to pass off as typical flow for those verses. Also includes nearly ANY time fellow characters are staying at the mansion, otherwise we’d end up with verses of 20+ additional characters hanging out in the Sakamaki villa.

Verse Details | Tag:#V; SUBARU; MISC

SITUATIONAL VERSE TAGS

#V; SUBARU; UNIVERSAL

Posts that can easily be assumed to have occured in either the Sakamaki or Mukami verses, typically answering asks, etc. that aren’t directly related to events unique to their timelines.

#V; SUBARU; WHAT IFS & #V; SUBARU; ONESHOTS

Likely reserved for one-off threads exploring a “what if”, a romantic meme that would otherwise be inappropriate, etc. If a meme doesn’t quite fit with one of the existing timelines, it’ll get one of these.

Trivia

Has no friends at school.

Has no favorite food or a favored hobby.

Shuu is his favorite brother and looks up to him somewhat.

He likes Kanato’s singing.

Tags

THREAD / WRITING TAG: #echoes in the halls; subaru

HEADCANONS: #hc; dialovers; subaru

IMAGES: #itt // subaru sakamaki

MUSIC: #music; dialovers; subaru

#blog; stuff #blog; muses

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hercthehandsome-blog · 7 years ago

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On departing the RP

Alternately titled: Why I’m leaving FH on upsetting terms, and why I didn’t just go quietly.

After some deliberation, I’m going to put this under a cut. I still implore you to read it, but I can’t force it on anyone, of course. You’re more than welcome to unfollow me instead of reading this post, as I’m no longer in the RP and that’s the way these things usually go, but I wanted to give a reason as to why I’m leaving and why I felt I had to make a post about it.

So, hopefully you got to know me over the almost-year I was here at FH - but if you didn’t, I’m Tori, and I formerly played Hercules, Mia and Gawain. I’m a uni student and I’m mentally ill. I’ve had depression and anxiety for about five years now. It flares up from time to time, and one such flare up happened in this summer FH lull. If it had happened earlier, I wouldn’t have opened up new plot avenues for Hercules - I would have had him graduate, would have written up an after section, dropped Mia and Gawain and left, sadly but with only a few hiccups and fond memories.

That’s not exactly what went down.

My mental health was going fine, and so I explored a different route with Hercules - the idea that he would be held back next year. It made sense, it would work well - but then I began relapsing. I was granted a hiatus, but as it was coming to an end I realised that I didn’t really have the capacity to continue this RP. I couldn’t give it the time it needed, so I messaged the main saying I was happy to drop Mia and Gawain, but considering I’d spent almost a year with Hercules as my main character, I would really appreciate if he could be considered for retirement. I was told that I would be contacted back once my application was considered.

Fast forward a week or so, Hercules turns up on the unfollow list. The reason some of you probably aren’t reading this right now. Which is okay - those are the rules clearly set out from the beginning. Someone comes up on an unfollow post, you unfollow them. Easy.

But I was told I would be contacted, so I messaged the main again. They said that they figured I would just drop Hercules if he wasn’t accepted for retirement, but I explained that I was willing to push to get Herc to his retirement requirements. I had the capacity to do that.

I got a response about how Hercules’ character arc was incomplete, he felt unsure as a character, and had little interaction outside of two characters. I felt this was unfair - I had received (what I considered at points to be quite harsh) warnings about inclusive roleplay, and had definitely been a more widespread role player in my last few months at FH, so hearing this was upsetting. So, I stated my case back, giving examples of other interactions he’d had and ideas I’d had about his potential retirement - using examples that not all of the retired bios closed off and wrapped up character plots either! Sometimes character evolution comes from that unsure nature.

I was told that my points were to be taken into consideration, but was then told that it felt like Hercules was being dropped off at an important point in his plot. I asked if I could wrap him up through selfies.

I was then told that sure, that would be fine to retire my version of Herc, but he would likely be revamped. Even in the face of all the effort I was willing to put in, the end result was basically “sure, but we’ll overturn it because you’re gone.” I was also told that official retirement only stands if a player is still in the group - I had never heard this rule before today. And how was I to know - there are still retired characters whose players are not here. Mods have said that reopening and revamping retired characters is low on their priority list - how was I supposed to assume they’d want to reopen Herc from that alone? I replied a few days ago, but I haven’t heard anything from the mods since.

Believe me, I understand that this is not a convenient point to drop Hercules’ character. It was not a convenient time for my mental illness to flare up - it never is, honestly. But my mental health is important, as is every other players, and if I’d known I was going to get ill I would never have looked to extend Hercules’ plot. I would have kept it as is at the end of school. He would have had his after section, and all would be well.

But it came to a decision of one of two things - allow me to wrap up Herc’s character as best I can and try and find that satisfying ending, or just have me drop him and have his character... cease to exist. I know which is more satisfying for me, and I like to think that for other characters, one would be more satisfying for them too. But ultimately, that decision didn’t matter - both would result in Herc being opened back up, even when other characters have had their time to be retired and exist quietly as NPC’s in other characters’ stories. I didn’t want to gatekeep Hercules, but to be told that no official retirement would be granted because he would just be reopened anyway seems like a pretty iron-fisted approach. It certainly felt that way.

There are no rules for retirement on the FH page as of my writing this. Nothing in the rules, nothing in the navigation. It’s all subjective. I have had to wait weeks for my responses to be seen and considered - I understand that the mods are busy, but this has been a pretty upsetting process for me that I feel was unnecessarily extended. However, if there was a list of criteria to go through, to meet before retirement, then I could have done the legwork myself! The mods could have gone “we don’t think Herc has met these requirements,” and if I thought I could meet them, great, I would! But if not, we could have gone our separate ways, disappointed but understanding. Instead, I checked this blog daily for messages, filled with genuine anxiety that I would receive another message that shot me down in regards to retiring Hercules. Which I did.

I’m fully aware that this might seem like burning a bridge - but I think it needs to be said. I’ve seen players leave with not a bang but a whimper, and I’ve seen issues arise in this RP that just get passed over in ways that I’m not comfortable with. I figure if I can just get one person to read this far, I can tell them that this is not just about me. This is about the fact that there needs to be clear guidelines, or at least compassion, in the way some things are run. I understand that the retirement process needs to be accepted by all the mods. You don’t want someone coming in, playing a super popular character for two months, speeding through their arc and then retiring them. Of course not. But I genuinely thought that over the course of almost a year, I’d proven that I wasn’t here to do that.

I had worked hard to improve myself when I received warnings. When I was told to be more inclusive, I attempted to put myself out there more, and to be told that Hercules only had meaningful interactions with two characters from the same player was upsetting and hurtful. I have friends who were also players who left that got unnecessarily authoritative messages about rules they had “broken” in completely innocent, non-malicious ways. I watched as players who “broke” rules in this way had to repent and thank and plead to keep their spot.

Overall, I’m disappointed and angry, but truly the thing I feel most is that I’m upset. Hercules, the bonds he made and a lot of the players here were great. There were a lot of fun interactions, events and relationships that are the reason I wanted to retire Herc in the first place. So that, even though I didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to continue in the RP, I could come back and check things out sometimes, and know that if anyone mentioned that meathead Herc who failed seventh year but somehow keeps his head above water, that was my character they were talking about. The relationships he forged, the (somewhat-clumsy) things he did. That I could feel like I really made a mark and contributed to what you guys have here. Not forever - that when the mods felt it was time to revamp Hercules, that would happen. But instead, I am all but forced to not bother retiring him, as I have been given the impression that he will be revamped before my blog is cold.

Instead of leaving smoothly, I’m leaving, upset and not-quietly (because one such trait I shared with all of my muses is that we are not quiet). I’m not sure exactly what I’ll achieve with this post - it may just be catharsis for me. It’s not supposed to be something that dismantles everything about FH. But maybe someone will read it and maybe something will change in the future. In the meantime, I wish the players the best, and if another Hercules comes along, I hope that he is as fun and hopeless for them to play as he was for me.

#ooc

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silver-soliloquy · 8 years ago

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CoMC week 4 part 1

XXXI

o I love that the timeskip and pov changes are drastic enough that we now have absolutely no idea what Edmond’s planning anymore! General vengeance, sure, and we know the names of the people he’s going to be targeting, but with Morrel the reader could pretty much guess what the Mysterious Stranger’s angle was even if Dumas was playing coy about names. From here on we’re pretty much flying blind, and it’s super fun. How much of what goes down in this section is he actually orchestrating, and how much can we mark down to Romantic Coincidence? Was Franz’s role in all this part of the plan, or did he just stumble into it and Edmond made it work? How is any of this actually going to get back to Villefort/Ferdinand? Who knows! Not Franz or me, that’s for sure! Isn’t this exciting?

o Also, Edmond has apparently done so much stuff over the timeskip, and none of it is…what he said he was going to do. He hasn’t even tried to go after his enemies yet, apparently, but he’s completely transfigured himself so much that he’s unrecognizable even though we’re in the know about his ridiculous aliases. Why were his priorities Orientalism and spending money and smoking hash? I mean I guess he’s been building up his aliases and putting in place a network of money and influence that lets him do pretty much whatever he wants, but man, this is quite a shift. Even without the pov shift, it’s pretty easy to start viewing Edmond as something unknown and dangerous instead of Our Hero.

o (I’m still going to keep calling him Edmond though, because the more sinister he gets the funnier it is to me.)

o As a sidenote though, I am totally delighted by the “wow, I wonder who this Mystery Person could be! we’ll just have to use the obviously fake name they give us, because we definitely don’t know what their real name is! NO PROTAGONISTS HERE, MOVE ALONG” game that the narrator’s playing. I loved it in Les Mis, I love it here! Somehow it never gets any less entertaining!

o The thing where Edmond always somehow embodies the mannerisms/physical characteristics of whatever nationality he’s pretending to be kind of reminds me a lot of Fantomina, have any of you guys read that? It’s an 18th century British novel about a lady who sets out to get revenge on her cheating boyfriend but ends up just getting really wrapped up in the theatre of costume and the multiple identities and ends up just having a really good time messing with him while he never notices that all these different women are, in fact, Fantomina. I’d have to reread it for details and Fantomina does more playing with class than with nationality, but I feel like Edmond could kind of relate.

o I don’t really have much to say about the Romanticism Bingo chapter except, wow, that happened I guess. It is kind of worth mentioning that, for all that Edmond’s forced himself to become a different person, he still uses Monte Cristo as his home base and his name—it seems like both a tribute to Faria and a sign that there’s a part of him that still doesn’t want to let go of his beginnings, no I’m not crying it’s fine

o Albert is adorable, and his willingness to go along with Mystery Man’s Thousand and One Nights roleplaying is hilarious. Maybe he and Edmond could be lit nerd buddies if Edmond wasn’t so busy being CREEPY and HAVING NO FRIENDS EVER.

o I think somebody in the tag mentioned the possibility that Edmond bribed Franz’s captain to take him to Monte Cristo, and I think that’s definitely what happened—the whole way the sidetrip unfolds is so weird! “hey let’s stop by Monte Cristo for some quick hunting, it’s uninhabited it’s fine” “oh yeah also there might be smugglers, it’s still fine” “oh look, lots of smugglers and also bandits! we are also smugglers so it’s okay, we can talk to them! we’ll have to stay the night though, forget that this was supposed to be a quick visit” “uh their leader wants to hang out with you and also has a huge opulent mystery palace that we definitely knew about even though we said the island was uninhabited, THIS IS TOTALLY NORMAL HAVE SOME DRUGS” LIKE. THIS IS THE MOST SUSPICIOUS THING I HAVE EVER HEARD, HOW DID FRANZ GO ALONG WITH THIS. Except I still can’t figure out what Edmond’s angle there was? How does impressing Franz with his mysterious wealth and orientalism help with anything???

XXXII

o Albert! For a spoiled rich kid he is INCREDIBLY ENDEARING, and he and Franz are super cute together and oh my god it’s just so nice to have some characters who actually like each other! I AM STARVED FOR FRIENDSHIP OKAY, EDMOND WHY DO YOU INSIST ON NOT HAVING ANY FRIENDS. Franz’s knowledge of Albert’s quirks and general air of fond exasperation for his ridiculousness is just really sweet and made these chapters really enjoyable. And I still want cute road trip adventures fic of them.

o Signor Pastrini is the real hero of this book for putting up with all the rich people nonsense happening in his hotel, tbh

XXXIII

o YIKES YIKES YIKES CAN I SKIP THIS CHAPTER

o Okay no I do have a few notes—Luigi Vampa, the first mysterious sketchy stranger who isn’t secretly Edmond! I totally cracked up when ~the Count of Monte Cristo~ showed up in the story ANYWAYS, because apparently what Edmond’s been doing during the timeskip is integrating himself into every urban legend and scrap of local gossip there is.

o The Cucumetto story was AWFUL, OH GOD WHY, not to mention BASICALLY POINTLESS, but I guess the Luigi/Teresa story was kind of entertaining? Maybe the point of the Cucumetto bit was to give Luigi Vampa the Not As Bad As You Could’ve Been award? The fact that his idea for getting his girlfriend a nice dress was “BURN DOWN A WHOLE VILLA” was hilarious, anyways.

o Also I feel like the Florian reference is just straight up Dumas calling me out for not finishing the second half of Estelle et Nemorin, which I AM WORKING ON OKAY, WHAT IS IT WITH YOU ROMANTICS AND MAKING ME READ CRACKED OUT PASTORAL NOVELS LET ME REST

XXXIV

o All the fuss about taking Albert to see the colosseum in the most impressive amazing way possible still seems pretty romantic to me as well as Romantic, Franz knows how to plan a date I’m just saying

o Did Edmond also plan for Franz to overhear the whole rendezvous in the coliseum? It seems like that one might have been just Coincidence?? BUT WHO KNOWS WITH EDMOND

o Honestly I spent the whole opera section screaming internally about how NO ONE IS PAYING ATTENTION TO THE STAGE, AUGH

o Franz and the Countess took a moonlight walk in the coliseum and talked about THE DEAD! How very Romantic of you two, I can see why Byron likes this lady

o Byron/Lord Ruthwen references galore! I need to come back to this after I read the Vampyre, so I have no comments except that the Countess is dating Byron but also so freaked out by Edmond that she has to leave the theatre immediately? Seriously???

o I love how oblivious Albert is to the encroaching creepiness of the Plot! HE JUST WANTS TO FIND A CARRIAGE AND HAVE A DRAMATIC ADVENTURE WITH A HOT ITALIAN LADY, WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S STUCK IN A REVENGE NOVEL

XXXV

o Everything about the executions is pretty much horrifying, and I don’t have that much to say about it except to note how all deliberate Edmond has been about desensitizing himself to violence and death and how much he wants not only vengeance but to be a person who can be that casually cruel—his first victim was definitely himself, and he has to keep seeking out scenes of torture and revenge to keep himself from reverting to the kid he was in prison who just wanted someone to love.

o His whole speech about how a man’s mask comes off when he’s faced with death seems like it goes back to Morrel’s almost-suicide, too—if Edmond hadn’t liked what he saw when Morrel was on the point of killing himself, would he have gone through with his reward? That…doesn’t make me feel any better about how much he waited till the very last possible moment there, but it does make more sense. It’s also foreshadowing Albert’s kidnapping adventure with the bandits, where I think even Edmond has to respect how chill he is about being possibly executed in the morning.

more notes tomorrow probably! :D

#comc17 #book blogging #LOOK I ACTUALLY HAVE STUFF TO SAY THIS WEEK

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dauntless-demigod23 · 8 years ago

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Get me out of this-Phanfiction-chapter two

"My cousins always say what's on their mind, even if it's rude." Phil said trying to let Dan know everything he could about his family before they got there and made them hate his best friend. "So, they're quite blunt, is what I'm trying to say." Dan shrugged. "I can handle that, I grew up with my parents." He joked. Phil looked at him solemnly. "Dan-" "I know. I know. No more jokes about my home life. This is about you." Dan waved off his worry as he took another sip of his caramel macchiato, then returned to his banana. Phil crinkled his nose not imagining that tasting very pleasant. “So let’s run through what we’ll say when they ask how we met.” Phil hated himself for clinging to this so much. But it was his one night of pretending Dan was actually his. He wanted it to go well. Dan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?” he pressed his lips together, stifling a smile, when he saw that Phil wasn’t kidding. “I’m pretty sure they know how we met.” “Dan.” Phil needed the whole thing to be perfect, he couldn’t afford to screw up, especially not when this was his only chance to have Dan as more than a friend, pretend or otherwise. "I promise I'll be the best fake boyfriend anyone's ever had. And if you want I'll give you a practice run, right now, just to prove it to you." He said. Phil quirked an eyebrow. "Go on then." He said, expecting Dan to do some roleplay as if he were saying hello to Phil's family. Only half realizing Dan meant act as if he were Phil's boyfriend, okay maybe more than half, and he was just wanting to see what would happen, but he didn't know what to expect and he needed to know what he would be dealing with. Dan took a deep breath and continued scrolling through his phone. Phil deflated. Disappointment cold in his chest. A heavy weight inside his ribcage. Dan then slowly, and deliberately stretched his arm out to rest around Phil's shoulders. "Your family is gonna love me, Lion." He said comfortingly using a pet name he hadn't used in seven years, eight now that it was officially twenty seventeen. Phil quirked an eyebrow at the nickname. Dan simply pulled Phil closer drawing soothing circling on his shoulders and upper back. "Don't worry so much, love." Dan pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and went back to scrolling, leaving Phil to turn bright red and try to hide it. Why was Dan making him feel like this? Sure he wanted a date, maybe a kiss. But it's not like he was in love. "You know this reminds me of when we first met." Dan said after a while looking at Phil in a way Phil wished wasn't just acting. Making Phil's heart flutter. He gulped. "Why?" "Because, when I got on the train to meet amazingphil we passed these exact stops. I was so nervous; I had the biggest crush on you back then." He said. Was that true? Phil wondered. Or was Dan just acting? "Now I get to do it again, but you're my boyfriend, this time. And I still have the biggest crush on you. You're my everything, and I'm so lucky to have found you. I don't deserve you and yet here we are...I just think it's funny how life works." Dan sounded so genuine. Phil began to lean in before Dan started to laugh. "How was that? Do you think your parents will like it? Oh gosh! That was the hardest performance I've ever put on!" Dan didn't mean it. Dan didn't mean any of it. Phil forced himself to smile. "Yeah, you almost had me believing you for a second." He said. Dan laughed and turned away. Phil had wanted that to be real. But he couldn't bring himself to be upset. Because Phil had noticed something that Dan didn't seem to notice. Dan still had his arm around Phil. He was tracing hearts and circles along the small of Phil's back. Dear god that was so out of character. I promise they'll get better. I hope you liked it.

#phan #dan howell #dan and phil #danisnotonfire #phil #phandom #phil lester #amazingphil #phan fluff #phanfiction #this was awful #i hope you like it

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irregularwebcomic · 7 years ago

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[Irregular Webcomic! #3740](http://ift.tt/2xOfMa6)

I looked up the phrase "sonny Jim" to make sure it would be understood widely enough... and I discovered that some people seem to think the phrase is "sunny Jim". And "Sunny Jim" is a mascot for Force brand wheat flakes breakfast cereal, first marketed in the USA in 1901, and currently still available only in the UK. There was also a Sunny Jim brand of peanut butter sold in the Seattle area of the USA. I don't know what, if anything, either of these have to do with the idiomatic phrase though. For some reason when I think of the phrase being used in conversation - like the mystery wizard is using it here in this comic - I always hear it in the voice of Billy Connolly. Great. Now I'm imagining that new wizard character in the comic as Billy Connolly. ... Which is not a bad thing, now I think about it.

My favourite part of English lessons back in school was the creative writing. While I now better appreciate all the other things my English teachers tried to teach me (grammar, literature and poetry analysis, literary themes and devices), writing my own stuff has evolved into a significant part of what I do. Obviously, I'm writing these words you're reading right now, as well as the comics they are attached to. A few of the main things I've written have interesting connections:

Comics: Irregular Webcomic! obviously. But I also write one-off gag comics for Lightning Made of Owls (which could use more contributors, hint hint) and The Dinosaur Whiteboard. And there's the now completed Star Trek parody comics in Planet of Hats.

Roleplaying game adventures: I've previously covered a bit about my history with roleplaying games and the various philosophies of roleplaying games. Over my years of involvement in the hobby, I've written many adventures, mostly for my gaming group, but also for professional publication. Two adventures I've written are available, Dino Park, a GURPS adventure on my own website, and Singapore Sling, a Transhuman Space adventure published by Steve Jackson Games (which has received some pretty good reviews).[1]

Comics about roleplaying game adventures: Most obviously this is Darths & Droids, which is entirely predicated on this concept. But it also includes some parts of Irregular Webcomic! Specifically, the Fantasy and Space themes are very much based on actual roleplaying game campaigns I ran with groups of friends, adapted as comics.

Despite the connections, writing comics (both gag and story-based) is very different from writing roleplaying game adventures. In fact any sort of traditional linear story writing is very different from writing RPG adventures. Firstly, there's the audience. The audience for a comic or piece of fiction writing is largely a group of people who you will never know or hear from (assuming you have managed to cultivate some sort of audience for your work). For every reader who writes me an email or posts on my forums about one of my comics, there are perhaps a hundred or a thousand who are completely anonymous and unknown to me. If you're a big-time author of truly popular works, this is even more the case - there are millions of readers you can never know anything about. So feedback, although it can exist, is limited and from only a very small portion of your readership. What this means, effectively, is that you can write whatever pleases you the most. If you want huge commercial success, you might think about what large populations of people tend to enjoy and deliberately pander to that, but for small-time writers, it's basically a labour of love, and so you have to write what pleases you or you'd give it up. The audience for an RPG adventure that you write is much more immediate and intimate. Most adventures that ever get written will only ever be experienced by your own circle of gaming friends. The interactions with your adventure will generate a good time for everyone... or not. In this case, you know your audience. You should provide something for the player who loves combat, something for the trickster to do, something to tickle the fancy of the one who likes solving puzzles, and some interesting characters for the roleplayer to interact with. If your entire group leans one way or another in playing style, you should bend with the breeze. Offering up a killer dungeon full of traps will delight one playing group, but annoy and bore another to tears. And the feedback is immediate, and from everyone experiencing your adventure. Trust me, you'll know if they're enjoying themselves, or if they're not. Writing an RPG adventure is more of a responsibility than writing a comic or work of linear fiction is. Even if you are unusual and your adventure is published widely, the people who buy/download it aren't just going to read it and decide for themselves what they think. They will run it as a game with their friends, recreating that intimate experience of a small group of people interacting with the components of the adventure. So your responsibility becomes one of making sure that the Game Master (GM) who runs your adventure isn't left flat-footed by lack of details or gaping plot holes in your adventure. A second difference between fiction/comics and RPG adventures is perhaps the most obvious one at first: plot linearity. Traditional stories are linear; they begin, they draw the reader through a sequence of events, and they end. Even if the sequence of events is presented as flashbacks or otherwise out of in-story chronological order, they are designed to be read in a real world chronological order that unfolds the story in the way that the writer decides. A writer can guarantee that the reader will experience the story in the sequence intended. So you can reveal things, and then later on you can count on the fact that the reader has already been exposed to those things. This is how you develop the plot. In an PRG adventure, things can get a lot less predictable. RPG player characters (PCs), played by players, often decide to do things that might not progress the adventure in the way that the GM or the adventure writer intended. An ideal RPG world is one in which the characters may choose to do anything, and nobody knows what they will do until they do it. Adventure writers use a variety of tools to deal with this unpredictability. One tool is known pejoratively as railroading. This is when as the adventure designer you enforce a linear plot on the characters, using various tricks to ensure that in many cases they actually have no choice in what to do or where to go. Examples include literal blocks to wayward travel, such as roads being impassable or having uncrossable rivers, oceans, or mountains funnel the characters to a particular location. There are also circumstantial blocks, such as law enforcement or capturing the characters and simply taking them to the next adventure location. And then there are situations where the PCs' decisions actually make no difference; for example after recovering the lost Soul Gem, they can either hand it over to their patron wizard, or he'll steal it from them (with no chance for them to stop him). Railroading is an unsatisfactory and frustrating method for most players, so a good adventure will use more subtle tools to control the plot and keep things limited to the scenario at hand. This often involves not so much writing a plot as such, but rather writing locations and characters and events, without necessarily linking them into a strict narrative sequence. Providing a variety of accessible locations gives the PCs the choice to explore whichever ones they find interesting, in whatever order they wish. They can interact with whatever non-player characters (NPCs) are found along the way, learning information from them or possibly having hostile encounters. These can then provide clues to what locations or people might be interesting to explore next - in this way leading the PCs in the general direction of the adventure climax, but without pulling them directly there. Events provide a chronological backdrop that supplies additional atmosphere, and in some cases a limited timeline for the players to achieve their goals. NPCs who the PCs don't interact with should have their own goals and tasks, that they complete on their way to whatever it is they are doing. For example, in a murder mystery adventure, the killer will be running around in the background, perhaps killing a new victim every 24 hours unless the PCs track him down and interfere. Or the volcano looming over the village may start smoking, signalling an imminent eruption, and the PCs have to decide how long they can spare to explore the ancient ruins before getting the heck out of there. So a well-designed adventure is (usually) not linear at some level. There may be a progression from clues, to a map, to a dungeon, to a final boss encounter in the deepest level, but at each stage there should be plenty of options. Even the classic dungeon adventure is wide open in the sense that there is a map (i.e. a series of connected locations) to explore, and the PCs decide what door or corridor to take next - no two parties will explore in exactly the same sequence. And characters are interesting too. In a linear story, you only ever reveal exactly as much about a character as you require for the plot. In an RPG adventure, characters need enough background defined for the GM to be able to roleplay them convincingly - but how much of that background is revealed depends on the actions of the PCs and their level of interest in conversing and digging deeper. All these notes about locations, characters, and events come down to the level of author control. Writing a story, you have complete control over these things and how they develop. Writing an adventure, you merely set the stage, and what happens on that stage depends on your players. Given this difference, there are some things which work fine in a story, but are problematic in an adventure. In a story, you can make a fight as dangerous as you like, or a trap as devious and deadly as you like, because you control the outcome and can always write a way for the hero to prevail. In an adventure design, you simply can't throw a full-grown dragon at a group of low level characters (or a 14-year-old wizard), because they will almost certainly be wiped out. You can't design a trap so deadly that only someone as sharp as Batman can escape alive, because I guarantee you that any given group of PCs is not as sharp as Batman.[2] You have to tailor the challenges to the expected levels of skill of the PCs. On the other hand, you can do things in a game adventure that don't make sense in a story. A classic example is wandering monsters, or unplanned encounters. Sometimes you just want to liven the game up a bit, or impress on the players that loitering in some area and making a lot of noise while doing so isn't a great idea. So you set up a random encounter table, let the GM roll the dice, and hey presto, a pack of wolves attacks the camp during the night, or a group of goblins leaps out of the dungeon shadows. This provides a change of pace in an adventure, from exploration mode to combat mode, and makes the game more interesting. In a tightly plotted story, encounters like this need to mean something. They establish something about the heroes, or they provide clues to the background plot, or they are directly related to the story. If you throw in lots of seemingly random encounters with no linking structure in a story, the reader will get lost and wonder what it all means. This applies even in a comic strip: The Fantasy gang encountering the wizard bandit didn't happen because of a random die roll. It happened because I had a series of jokes I wanted to tell about meeting a wizard bandit. Which brings me to the Fantasy and Space theme comics, which were originally based heavily on two RPG campaigns that I ran. The main characters (except for Dwalin) are all direct ports of PCs with the same names, originally created by friends of mine. This defined their personalities for me, and made it easy to write the initial series of comics. Despite the characters being based on the games, none of their comic adventures are directly based off the RPG adventures I ran. Both themes began as one-shot character-based gags, and only developed into story arcs later. When I decided to take them in this direction, I invented situations and plot elements that would lead to humour, without referring back to actual events in the original games. I suppose I could have based the story arcs in the comics on the original game adventures... I think the main reason I never did is because that would be too constraining. It was easier to go off on a completely separate story arc that I could invent as needed, without trying to copy a pre-existing story. But the characters are very similar to their gaming counterparts. I find this helps me to write the strips, because I have a strong gut feel for what motivates each character and how they would behave in different situations, based on my experiences playing the games with my friends. So the characters have ported very easily to the comics. Given that depth of characterisation innate to their existence, I believe they perform better and more consistently as comic characters than some of the examples of wholly original characters that I developed within the comic alone. They entered the comic much more fully developed and have probably undergone less character evolution than some others. (One example I can think of is Professor Jones in the Cliffhangers theme, who only acquired his distinctive love of food well into the story.) To write a character, it pays to know the character. When portraying a character, some actors use the technique of method acting, getting into the mindset and mannerisms of the character, almost becoming the character. When writing the Fantasy and Space themes, I often use a similar approach, getting into the mindset of the characters, to figure out what they would do. This is even more the case in Darths & Droids, which I write with a group of my friends. During writing sessions, we are constantly asking each other, "What would Pete say?" or "What would Sally do?" to inspire dialogue, and also checking that dialogue we've written matches our expectations of the characters. Bringing this all together, Darths & Droids is a story about a roleplaying game. So the writing techniques discussed above have to be merged to create a blend that both reads coherently as a story, while also being plausible as the product of people playing a game. This creates an interesting tension, and one we are always striving to balance. We have two types of characters in our story: the players who interact with one another at a "real world" level, and the NPCs in the game who they interact with at the "game level". We have written detailed backgrounds and motivations and plans for the in-game NPCs, which then become the foils against which the players act. Determining what an NPC character in the game does is based on the plotting of the Star Wars films which we follow, but also on their scripted plans. So they are developed essentially like game NPCs, to be reactive scenery or obstacles, ready for the players to interact with. On the other hand, we have detailed notes on the personalities of the players, what's going on in their real lives, and how they relate to one another. Determining what they do is much more a case of getting inside their heads in the method acting sense and asking ourselves what "would this person do in this situation?", as described above. We wanted some interesting dynamics, so there are conflicts and personality clashes in the group, but we didn't want to make it a bad game experience with people not having fun, so the conflicts are not all-consuming, and at the highest level they all actually enjoy getting together to play the game. The major conflicts in a story-telling sense actually arise at the in-game level, with various NPCs as antagonists and villains. In summary, writing comics or other linear stories shares some things in common with writing RPG adventures, while differing in other aspects. The greatest similarity in my experience is that characters need to be fleshed out. You need to know what their personalities are and what drives them, so that readers or RPG players can relate to them. The greatest difference is that a story has to be carefully plotted, and then presented in a sequence that reveals things to the reader to build drama (or humour); whereas an RPG adventure benefits from less plotting. Instead, the RPG adventure writer needs to concentrate on locations and events, setting the scenery for the players to interact with. There can be a plot in the background - whatever it is that the adversaries are up to - but it's up to the players to discover it and interfere with it. I guess if there's a piece of advice here for all writers, it's this: Make your characters detailed and believable!

Note: This annotation was inspired by reader Tommi H., who requested an essay on the differences and similarities between writing comics and RPG adventures as part of his Patreon supporter reward. If you'd like me to write an extended annotation on any topic you care to name, or if you just want to show some support for the comics and other creative work I share, please consider becoming a patron.

[1] Another three adventures I wrote were published in Steve Jackson Games' Pyramid magazine in its second incarnation as a weekly online web-zine, but I'm not sure if or how they can be accessed for reading. Getting a current subscription to the magazine used to include full archive access, but I'm not sure if that's still the case now that it's moved to its third incarnation as a monthly PDF magazine. The adventures are (links are to previews of the first few paragraphs):

The Last Stone Age Adventure: The Hidden Valley of the Kulku

Campaign in a Box: Situation Conspiracy

Iron Ref: Cliffhangers: The Musical Clue

[2] More like as sharp as a bowling ball.

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