A challenge in descriptive writing!

[Diana]

I just finished a round of advertising for Iwaku, and as usual I have come back frustrated and disturbed. XD One of the major things that really annoys me about some roleplay forums is their big emphasis on word counts. They require you to have a minimum number of words in each and every roleplay post.

Now, I have always been of the opinion that it's not the number of words or the size of your roleplay post that is important. It's the content of it. You could write a huge five paragraph post, that seems like it's chock full of descriptive goodies and yet have contributed absolutely nothing to the roleplay. Or you can write a 1 paragraph post, which at a glance seems totally useless, but actually gives a great line or starting board for progressing the scene. Or vice versa! A huge post filled with awesome storyline, description and plot elements. Versus a tiny 5 liner that does nothing be react and give you nothing to build off of. D:



Then the SMARTASS in me thought about challenging everyone in Iwaku to write the longest post they possible can about something as silly and mundane as sitting in a chair. :D No plot, no characterization. Just sitting in a chair. An example of how length and word counts don't mean it's quality roleplaying. It just means you're good at describing a million detailed things.

...So do that. >:D Flex your creative muscles. See how descriptive you can get about a character sitting in a chair. NO PLOT. Just sitting in a chair.

If you're a short poster like I am, you'll find it a fun challenge. If you're a long poster, I would LOVE to see how you cram in all those details. XD Maybe I'll learn something.

 

[Kitti]

There was little else to do, with her backseat planted firmly in the chair, and she had no where else to go. The sole task right now was merely to remain seated, nothing more and nothing less. For a time, she tried to gaze around the room and discover as much as she could but there was nothing. Endless white walls around her that contrasted to the bloody red carpet. Aside from herself and the chair, the room was entirely empty.

It was because of this emptiness that she turned her attention to the chair. When she had sat upon it at first, she had taken it for granted. She had even gone so far as to assume that the chair was nothing special. These thoughts she regretted, for it was no ordinary chair that she sat upon. It now seemed insignificant that anything else would be going on, she was simply and utterly enthralled by the chair and there was nothing else that could divert her attention. It was as if she were born to sit in this chair, she thought, realizing how privileged she was to be seated in its space. The chair could only hold one person and she was that person.

The wooden framework of the chair was spared no expensive, that much was readily obvious to anyone who gave the chair an even cursory observation. The wooden handiwork was too exquisite to adorn any object of lesser value, it was marvelous. The woman could only gape at the painstaking attention to detail in the wood, which depicted flowers the likes of which had never been seen and would never be seen anywhere except on this chair.

Beneath her skirts, which she moved aside in order to get a better look, one could see the fabric making up the body of the chair. It was the fabric that truly made her appreciate the luxury afforded to her by being able to sit in the chair. The fabric, which she gazed at without tiring, was a bloody red material that matched the carpeting. The material was adorned with delicately stitched flowers that were so fine, as well as being the same color as the rest of the fabric, that one might not notice if they did not have a careful eye.

Tentative, awestruck by the majesty of her seat, the woman reached her hand down to feel the fabric beneath her fingertips. What she felt was incredible, something that she would never be able to describe to anyone that had not sat on the chair as she had. To the touch, the material was softer than the hide of a newborn rabbit, she told everyone. The softness was not the only factor, however. There was also a supple strength to the fabric that was clearly resistant to tearing. Sitting on the chair, the woman was certain that the fabric had to have been woven especially by witches for this beautiful seat.

The woman laid her arms across the armrest of the chair. The armrests were made of the wood that comprised the chair's framework and while the touch of the ethereal wood was magical, it could not begin to compare to the wonder of feeling her backside planted firmly against so regal a piece of furniture. Her back rested against the cushion of the chair, which was neither so hard as to make her back ache but not so soft that it provided no support at all. The feeling of the chair embracing her made her feel elated with joy - she had never felt so sturdy.

The wooden legs of the chair were firmly planted into the carpet, assuring her that, as she sat, she would be held aloft from the carpet. The chair was keeping her above the common dirt of where feet walked, as well as massaging every inch of her body with its lustrous fabric. By pressing her backside deeper into the chair, she surrendered herself and let it support her entirely. The chair was stable, it did not move at all as she sunk against the backrest of the chair.

[This was an oddly exciting undertaking for me, but then I have not slept in a very long time... I apologize pre-emptively for this.]