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Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Diana, Aug 10, 2009.
Placeholding for the private game!
I just noticed something.
Early on in the season 1 episode, "rose's scabbard, " we saw steven trying to get lion to look at him, but lion is chasing you guessed it - a white butterfly. And bearing in mind white butterflies, according to mindful education, mean a fusion is having a hard time, what was it doing there? I'm going to assume it's garnets.that means garnet was upset about something. And bearing in mind they just argued about rose, I guess maybe garnet misses rose more than we thought...
Also, if you want my opinion on the article then I generally agree with it for the most part. Except when it gets to the two Sfyf Pumpkinhead films. I don't think they would have worked even if they hadn't been half-assed/were one film instead of two split up ones which fucked the budget right up the ass. It's as I said and was mentioned in the article, I feel Pumpkinhead is one of the few horror icons from recent times that can actually pose really thought provoking questions(horror doing that? what are the odds? I though it was just boobs, blood, guts, and weed)
All jokes aside, I love the idea of a revenge story gone awry. You FEEL for the main character as his son is killed(accidently) and the teens ride off after only offering a half-hearted apology. You feel justified in agreeing with the main character summoning Pumpkinhead. But it's before Pumpkinhead actually catches up to the teens that you wonder what they might have done otherwise. Would they have actually turned themselves in for involuntary manslaughter? Or at least gave a more sincere apology? We'll never know because Pumpkinhead murders them and you start to feel for the teens because they genuinely felt awful for what they'd done but they're never given the chance to redeem themselves.
Then when the main character realizes this and wants Pumpkinhead to stop, he realizes that the only way to truly stop his engine of revenge is to stop himself. So it's just a nice quaint tale about how revenge can utterly consume you.
Pumpkinhead deserved a lot better than what he got imo lol.
"Sorry ma'am, but Malen just isn't up for riding today. The Knight took her for a run last night an-"
"That's all right. It isn't your fault." Blast it. Giraheed's man was overstepping his bounds! Malen was hers and there was no other horse she trusted when she trekked out in to the woods. Genevieve eyed Pyre carefully - but gave a resigned sigh. No, she wouldn't run off with his horse. Goodness knows, the stallion was probably just as difficult as that man.
There was no reason why she still couldn't go. Genevieve pat the poor boy on the head as she left the stables. Now that she considered it, walking was a much better idea. She needed to exercise her legs and being gone for the day would be a blessing! There were plenty of back trails to the villages hidden keep.
Genevieve made sure to watch her step as she headed off for the woods!
Aramis wandered laconically towards the stable in time to see a figure retreating into the woods. He sighed to himself, she simply never seemed to give up. Running fingers through his hair, he stepped up to Pyre. The horse whinnied softly, a gentle nicker as Aramis patted his muzzle. Aramis stroked Pyre's velvet smooth face, gazing off into the distance as the figure disappeared.
Aramis covered his mouth with his hand, yawning into it. He took a saddle from the wall and began to place it on his horse, making sure to grab reins to go with the saddle.
"There's a good boy," Aramis whispered as he stroked the horse's ears, smoothing the mane absent-mindedly. He felt an almost dizzy turn as he kicked a leg over the saddle to mount. The horse's demeanor changed almost instantly when his hooves hit the packed earth, cheer in the very gait.
"Where to, old friend?"
Genevieve made her way through the smell forest trail, enjoying the crisp autumn air and that slight scent of approaching winter. Were she not so worried about where she was placing her feet, the walk would have been very refreshing. She was missing her mare, and the thought provoked many a plot of revenge for her unwelcome houseguest.
Ever so often she would pause. A sound catching her attention, or maybe something flickering just outside of her line of sight. It'd be inconvenient if that man decided to follow her again, though she had wicked plans of clobbering him over the head with her cane and burying him somewhere under a tree. Still, she was more concerned about bandits, or more accurately "bandits" who were nothing more than a few of Giraheed's rogue men running loose and terrorizing villagers under the guise of foreign invaders.
"But he is still an angel."
Lyra smile, "So he won't be cross with me?"
Hmm, I like it.
I also like the idea of a character description in poetry. Perhaps that will be the next challenge
Here anyone can write up recommendations of bands, songs or genres.
"Me in you."
"Which we should get to so I can be back in time to tuck Lyra in."
So before I get ready to go
I have a new rp idea.
The world has just faced an extinction level event which resulted in only a fraction of the world population remaining. There is three cities that remain standing and space within is a 'prime' location as those within the cities get good food (first picks) and homes not collapsing. Those outside the cities have to rely on robotic deliveries dropping off the excess (crappy) food at designated areas.
Before the apocalypse a new virtual reality was released called Life. Within this place you lived and could make money in real life (via a credit system) by working which ran robots in real life. After the apocalypse Life became the only way to keep things running with the vast majority of the remaining people having to work in order to keep things running. Food 'drop' expenses, server expenses, even the 'in Life' apartments all cost money, which was all increased in an attempt to make sure people cant make enough to really 'do' anything.
However monotony wasn't a good thing to do else people would stop and everything would collapse. So an entertainment system was created, or more exact an older game was brought back to life, the Game, an MMO where you could tune in while you work (or during your relaxation time) and watch your favorite players. These players are important to the system but only so long as they are being watched. If a players view counter reaches a certain number they are removed from the Game. The Game itself requires large fees to play which was supposed to be an incentive to make sure people work hard if they want to play, but players get paid based on their views. Top players even get moved into the cities.
Further incentive was created to make sure that only the best players remain and it was risky for the rich to play, so it was made to where if you died in the Game your character in Life also died thus you had to start over with no money.
Now obviously if its a popularity and view thing (and its an MMO) then people would rapidly gravitate toward things that get them views. So player killers are the most popular to watch, followed by player killer killers (called Killer Hunters) then questers, the 'risk takers' and 'lwed' channels, and finally the dungeon divers. Many other routes in the Game, like most nonlethal routes, became extremely risky with most who wish to do those routes having to incorporate other things into their play. The most risky are the 'pacifist' routes, meaning the people who do any of the professions (like craft armor or weapons), people who choose healer classes, etc etc, these are all typically players that wind up being removed from the Game very quickly.
Within the Game though your allowed to create your own specials, most don't since its overly complicated thus they stick to the specials their class gives them. But those that make their own typically get better views because they are unique.
I figure the rp will start with our characters meeting as new characters in the Game, or maybe at a Game test area, or even at a tournament to get into the Game with guaranteed viewers (after all as a new character your unknown, but winning a tournament before entering means you are 'that amazing new guy')
I think my girl will be someone who in Reality is trapped outside a city, injured and tended to by her family. They try and make her feel better but she knows that she wont survive unless she can get into a city. However she is extremely kind, and her character is on the pacifist side of things. However she wants to prove that you can be a good girl, a kind girl, and still get views.
Your girl could be anyone, she could be a player in the Game who's character died forcing her to start over. Or maybe shes someone who has worked hard to get into the Game, or wants to get into the Game to meet someone within, or maybe shes someone who doesn't care one way or the other and just wanted to check out the Game.
Our girls probably form an alliance or something (or your girl sees my girls a pacifist and feels sorry for her so tries to help out) So our girls would hang out in the Game and in Life
Aramis tilted his head at the girl. Did he actually detect something of a warming to him? It would amaze him beyond what she probably knew, but he smiled to her all the same, his eyes glowing faintly with... what? Don't let her opinion matter to you, you fool...
Nodding his head, Aramis fingered a chain around his neck. "I would love to, my lady," he said softly. The engraved metal pendant, a small circle of silver, hung at his neck and he caressed it between forefinger and thumb. Saint Aurelius, patron of orphans, hear my plea as you have since that day...
It would be easy to see double meanings within his words, but Genevieve made an effort not to constantly be suspicious of every tiny detail. It would be something she would have to remind herself several times as they continued down the forest trail.
With the horse as an aid, the trip in to the darker areas of the forest didn't take nearly as long. As they approached the heavily wooden area where vines and bushes grew up in a natural archway surrounded the small enclave, Genevieve dismounted. Only with a slight wince at her foot, she still graced a smile to the old woman that was already there and waiting to greet them.
"What be this stranger to accompany you? Looks right dirty." said Margaret. The old woman was wearing a tattered old cloak full of holes, wild snow white hair and looked to be about as ancient as the forest around. It was hard to tell if she were serious or simply joking.
"A knight, Margaret." Genevieve leaned close to whisper in the woman's ear. "The one I mentioned before..." This seemed to lighten the old woman's face in to a huge toothless smile.
"Wella, wella... A knight of Giraheed's. Might we string 'im up by 'is toes in the trees, or lay his body with the ants?" cackled the old woman! This brought a few curious stares from several of the other people in the enclave. All in tattered clothes, looking dirty and hungry. And very curious about the visitor with the Lady.
Genevieve cleared her throat. The suggestions would have been perfect a few days ago. "How about we step inside. I brought some things for you and Talin."
Margarete nodded, still cackling. "Come in, come in. There is room for one more."
Aramis' suspicious dark eyes widened at the woman's words. He stopped himself from saying the words that had formed on his lips; Aramis was after all a knight of Giraheed, not likely to be appreciated here. The elegant pale of his peach complexion was also indeed marked with dust from his ride, he noted, wiping a hand across his brow.
With a stiff, noble bow to the Lady, Aramis stepped back to let her and the woman pass before him. The dark clothing and eyes of the man made him blend, all but the soft healthy glow of his skin. With a glance around, Aramis spotted Pyre in the woods, a good and cautious mount unwilling to risk these new faces without the urging of his master.
"I take it my presence is... hmm, not desired."
Genevieve paused long enough to take Aramis' arm and pull him along as they fell in to step behind the old woman. She leaned to speak softly to him.
"These people are from the villages on the borders Colmondeley land and some from our neighbors. Giraheed's own villagers. He told Our King that raiders from the neighboring country ransacked their towns. Yet, it was his own soldiers that did the burning. You were his crest and they are naturally suspicious."
The old woman was cackling once again as she stopped at the makeshift little hut fashioned out of the bushes and thatch from the trees. She pushed open the door, ushering Genevieve and Aramis inside. It was cramped, providing only a table and a couple chairs. A small space for sleeping and a fire in the center for cooking and keeping warm. A humble existence but not at all comfortable.
"Sit, sit." said Margaret. Taking the bag Genevieve had brought, she made herself busy taking out the contents giving oohs and aahs of approval at the bits of food and blankets. "Oh yes, oh yes. This will be good. We did miss you, Mi'lady. Missing for several days, we were staring ta worry tha handsome knight you spoke of had locked you away in tha tower!"
Genevieve cleared her throat, tugging nervously on her ear. The old woman didn't have to bring up their last discussion, not with the man sitting right here. "I had an accident. I returned as soon as I could. has everything been all right here?"
"As all right as it can be for an old woman's bones! I need a good warm man to keep me company as the nights get cold!" Margaret flashed a grin at Aramis, leaning over to pat him on the leg. "What say you, knight? Come to rescue an old woman from the forest? Mi'lady does 'er best, but the Viper will get 'er before long!"
Aramis blinked, baffled at the change in the woman's demeanor. He tried to smile though, a nervous chuckle on his lips as he shed his cloth, thick cloth so finely woven it would keep a man warm in the bite of winter. Wordlessly, he rested it over the woman's shoulders as he looked around the small hut.
Visions of a life both his own, yet not, flooded his mind. Aramis as a child, wide eyed at his mother's skirts while she made stew from vegetables and a small rabbit. A knock at the door, his father patting his hair as he passed him... Aramis looked away from everything, choosing instead to look at his own feet.
"I am grateful you accepted me here," he said softly, his hand curling at the fingertips at his side. Today was a day of questions, of half emotions and strangeness. Full emotions, but ones that made him feel ill inside almost, but in a bad way...? He wasn't sure.
"Oy, oy, what a charming thing! Not like, what did call him, mi'lady? A conniving fire-tongue wretch in a devilishly handsome wolf's body?" Margaret cackled, as she moved away from Aramis to take a hot kettle from the fire and fill a few cups with an sweet smelling amber liquid.
"I said no such thing!" Genevieve huffed back. She really didn't! ...in fact her words were probably far more insulting. She smoothed out her skirts and adjusted in her seat, no daring to cast a look at Aramis. ...well, maybe one peek. It was a surprise to her that he seemed a little uncomfortable. Maybe even confused. No doubt he thought she had lied about the condition of the villagers. Most did. Compared to Giraheed, Genevieve's presence didn't carry that irrefutable confidence. If he had wanted to, Giraheed could convince the world he had fallen from the sun.
Margaret, pushed cups to each of them before settling in to a chair herself. She pulled that cloak tighter around her shoulders, seeming to be quite pleased with the thing. "I am much glad you came ta see us again, for I dare say it should be tha last time! Too dangerous. More burned places near tha borders, poor things, poor things. Talin has gone to help, my dear heart, an I cannae imagine tha trouble mi'lady will find herself if she is caught here." The old woman took a glance at Aramis before breaking in to a wide grin, without saying another word about it.
Aramis turned to look at the woman intently. He opened his mouth to speak, then he sighed and began to attempt to reformulate his words to a point where the stubborn girl would understand. He listened, or tried to listen, only to the serious portion of the woman's speech. He smiled winningly at her as he absent-mindedly took the girl's hand in his own.
"I know you care for them, but it would do nobody any good if you were caught and punished. They would probably be worried sick about you, might try to send someone to find you if they thought you got hurt... what then?" He crinkled his brown, his serious expression betraying worry in his gaze.
Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he released her hand and leaned back in his seat. "I'm charged with keeping you safe."