C
Calypso Major
Guest
Original poster
Congratulations on your Untimely Demise, Which Eventually Led to you Becoming a Ghost!
[fieldbox= , olive, dashed] "As human beings, we all have this instinctual fear of death - or, rather, what comes after death. Some say that there are alternate realms that one gets categorized into (sometimes there's just a single world). Others tell us that we'll be alive again before we know it, a blank slate to start all over again, like recycling.
And then we have the rumors that these are all lies. There is no 'other world', there is no recycling, there's just us, our soul, and the rest of this dying world. Spirits, entities, ghosts... they're all words that invoke a presence that isn't 'alive' in terms of the living. Some of these can be nice, a warm push in the right direction, or perhaps that fuzzy feeling you get right before you fall asleep. Others can be quite a hassle, the occasional though which leaves you with nothing but a sense of dread, or 'accidents' that happen at certain places during certain times..." [/fieldbox]
. . .
Genre(s): Supernatural, Horror (Probably others that I'm just too lazy to think of as well.)
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Basic Summary:
[spoili]
You've died.
Somehow, someway, you've died and have come back from the dead as a ghost, an entity, a phantom, whatever. Anyhow, you're stuck with this random group of people you don't know, led by a lazy, sarcastic, throw-caution-to-the-wind type of guy who gives you random jobs that should be done, varying from simple 'go grab me some grub' tasks all the way to 'I want you to kick these ghosts out of town' type of tasks.
Not to mention that you live in a small apartment building with these guys....but at least they're those nice apartments featuring a large dining room, living room, and a full, separate kitchen. Not to mention you get the place all to yourself - which makes you wonder about the younger residents a little bit, but no need to worry.
After all, you have enough things to worry about for all of eternity, so let's start by seeing how your favorite TV show ended.[/spoili]
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Still Interested?
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.
.
Well, here's a cute little intro I whipped up and have no clue what to do with, so let me just throw it at you.
[spoili]
A small crowd of people awake in a dark space, the smell of earth and wood very much present. Nobody knows why they're there, nor do they recognize one another. All are quickly pulled from their confusion by a very loud voice.
"Ah, finally, some fresh meat, or - er...sort of."
A man stands there, no older than late twenties, wearing what seems to be jeans, a solid burgundy colored shirt, and a blue jacket. Some people winced at the classic 1990's grunge style of clothing, but at least this man rocked it, with his blonde hair barely brushing his shoulders in a casual way.
A few wondered why he looked this way, but it was pretty hard to focus on something apart from the sudden fact that he was semi-transparent, clothes and all.
"Anyhow, hello there young ones- "
A small voice tries to intervene, saying that they're actually 102 years old and that they were, in fact, most likely older than him. A flash of light, and a now-irritated voice continues, interrupting the last bit of the elders words.
"NO, I do not care what age you say you are, for as of this moment you are all newborns compared to me- which reminds me, CONGRATULATIONS!" The man (well, close enough to a man) claps in a burst of enthusiasm, leaving the others in the room to wonder what exactly is going on.
"Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Oh wise and noble glowing person in front of us, please say. What is our purpose of being here?' "
The space where the crowd stood was silent.
"Jeez, tough crowd." He clears his throat, eyeballing several individuals before continuing.
"First off, you should all know that you're dead." Almost instantly, a hand was raised, stopping whatever rude comments were about to erupt. "Yes, you all have my condolences, but before you all start yelling, I think you should also know the one thing you all have in common.
Each and every one of you died in the year 2012, on December 21st, at midnight.
Now, while you all died of different causes, it doesn't change the fact that each and every one of you are now equals in this world, as the newest generation."
"Newest generation of what?"
The same voice from before called out, the feminine warmth of a grandmother ringing in the silence. And once again, a flash of red briefly pulsed - or perhaps it was simply a very reddish-orange? Clearly, it meant that whoever this stranger was, was clearly unhappy with being interrupted.
"Well, call us whatever you like. Spirits, entities, specters, phantoms, wraiths - really, the living have so many names for us, it's hard to keep track. But for your generation, I think the most popular term was ghosts."
The hush over the crowd quickly disappeared as they began to murmur amongst themselves. One comment was heard over the rest, the sound of a young man's sarcasm unnerving.
"So what, we get a second chance? I don't know about you guys, but I think I'd prefer staying dead than being undead."
Within the second of the last word being heard, a small croak filled the air, eyes filled with fear as the people closest watched him grab at his throat. It seemed to be that this one was choking, but nobody moved a muscle to help. "It would be wise of you to keep your mouth shut if you have nothing productive to say." The crowd quieted again, watching with uneasy gazes as the man from before took a deep breath, before lowering his hand, which had raised just before the boy began to choke. Gasps could be heard from the boy, as he tried to fill his non-existent lungs back up with air.
He went ignored, as the source of all of their knowledge threw his hands up in the air. "Honestly, I don't know why so many of you were picked by the boss, but whatever. Just know that you are all here for a reason, and it was definitely not a fluke, nor was it because of your 'will to live' or whatever nonsense the living have come up with."
A small, child-like voice piped up, "Excuse me, mister...?"
This caused the man to stop, looking around to try and find the source for a few moments before giving up, deciding to yell into the crowd. "Name's Otto, please address me as Mr. Otto-the-man, or just supervisor if you prefer." As he introduced himself, he sounded quite giddy, like being called something other than his usual name was really special.
"Will we get to see our families again?"
The voice brought up a good point, and others began to repeat the question amongst themselves, only for all hope to be shut down quickly with a single sentence.
"No, because anyone you remember is long gone, rotting away in some obscure grave most likely."
"But not to worry, all of you will have a place to return to! Since you've all been asleep for a century or so, the boss had us - and by us I mean me - situate out a living space."
And with that, Otto clapped his hands. "Alright, no more questions?" Of course, lots of people had questions, but he just chose to ignore them as he waved his hand, an old wooden door appearing behind him.
"Good thing you guys have me as your supervisor, right? Now, let's introduce you to your new home."
[/spoili]
. . .
Genre(s): Supernatural, Horror (Probably others that I'm just too lazy to think of as well.)
.
.
.
Basic Summary:
[spoili]
You've died.
Somehow, someway, you've died and have come back from the dead as a ghost, an entity, a phantom, whatever. Anyhow, you're stuck with this random group of people you don't know, led by a lazy, sarcastic, throw-caution-to-the-wind type of guy who gives you random jobs that should be done, varying from simple 'go grab me some grub' tasks all the way to 'I want you to kick these ghosts out of town' type of tasks.
Not to mention that you live in a small apartment building with these guys....but at least they're those nice apartments featuring a large dining room, living room, and a full, separate kitchen. Not to mention you get the place all to yourself - which makes you wonder about the younger residents a little bit, but no need to worry.
After all, you have enough things to worry about for all of eternity, so let's start by seeing how your favorite TV show ended.[/spoili]
.
.
.
Still Interested?
.
.
.
Well, here's a cute little intro I whipped up and have no clue what to do with, so let me just throw it at you.
[spoili]
A small crowd of people awake in a dark space, the smell of earth and wood very much present. Nobody knows why they're there, nor do they recognize one another. All are quickly pulled from their confusion by a very loud voice.
"Ah, finally, some fresh meat, or - er...sort of."
A man stands there, no older than late twenties, wearing what seems to be jeans, a solid burgundy colored shirt, and a blue jacket. Some people winced at the classic 1990's grunge style of clothing, but at least this man rocked it, with his blonde hair barely brushing his shoulders in a casual way.
A few wondered why he looked this way, but it was pretty hard to focus on something apart from the sudden fact that he was semi-transparent, clothes and all.
"Anyhow, hello there young ones- "
A small voice tries to intervene, saying that they're actually 102 years old and that they were, in fact, most likely older than him. A flash of light, and a now-irritated voice continues, interrupting the last bit of the elders words.
"NO, I do not care what age you say you are, for as of this moment you are all newborns compared to me- which reminds me, CONGRATULATIONS!" The man (well, close enough to a man) claps in a burst of enthusiasm, leaving the others in the room to wonder what exactly is going on.
"Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Oh wise and noble glowing person in front of us, please say. What is our purpose of being here?' "
The space where the crowd stood was silent.
"Jeez, tough crowd." He clears his throat, eyeballing several individuals before continuing.
"First off, you should all know that you're dead." Almost instantly, a hand was raised, stopping whatever rude comments were about to erupt. "Yes, you all have my condolences, but before you all start yelling, I think you should also know the one thing you all have in common.
Each and every one of you died in the year 2012, on December 21st, at midnight.
Now, while you all died of different causes, it doesn't change the fact that each and every one of you are now equals in this world, as the newest generation."
"Newest generation of what?"
The same voice from before called out, the feminine warmth of a grandmother ringing in the silence. And once again, a flash of red briefly pulsed - or perhaps it was simply a very reddish-orange? Clearly, it meant that whoever this stranger was, was clearly unhappy with being interrupted.
"Well, call us whatever you like. Spirits, entities, specters, phantoms, wraiths - really, the living have so many names for us, it's hard to keep track. But for your generation, I think the most popular term was ghosts."
The hush over the crowd quickly disappeared as they began to murmur amongst themselves. One comment was heard over the rest, the sound of a young man's sarcasm unnerving.
"So what, we get a second chance? I don't know about you guys, but I think I'd prefer staying dead than being undead."
Within the second of the last word being heard, a small croak filled the air, eyes filled with fear as the people closest watched him grab at his throat. It seemed to be that this one was choking, but nobody moved a muscle to help. "It would be wise of you to keep your mouth shut if you have nothing productive to say." The crowd quieted again, watching with uneasy gazes as the man from before took a deep breath, before lowering his hand, which had raised just before the boy began to choke. Gasps could be heard from the boy, as he tried to fill his non-existent lungs back up with air.
He went ignored, as the source of all of their knowledge threw his hands up in the air. "Honestly, I don't know why so many of you were picked by the boss, but whatever. Just know that you are all here for a reason, and it was definitely not a fluke, nor was it because of your 'will to live' or whatever nonsense the living have come up with."
A small, child-like voice piped up, "Excuse me, mister...?"
This caused the man to stop, looking around to try and find the source for a few moments before giving up, deciding to yell into the crowd. "Name's Otto, please address me as Mr. Otto-the-man, or just supervisor if you prefer." As he introduced himself, he sounded quite giddy, like being called something other than his usual name was really special.
"Will we get to see our families again?"
The voice brought up a good point, and others began to repeat the question amongst themselves, only for all hope to be shut down quickly with a single sentence.
"No, because anyone you remember is long gone, rotting away in some obscure grave most likely."
"But not to worry, all of you will have a place to return to! Since you've all been asleep for a century or so, the boss had us - and by us I mean me - situate out a living space."
And with that, Otto clapped his hands. "Alright, no more questions?" Of course, lots of people had questions, but he just chose to ignore them as he waved his hand, an old wooden door appearing behind him.
"Good thing you guys have me as your supervisor, right? Now, let's introduce you to your new home."
[/spoili]
. . .
[fieldbox= , olive, dashed] "...Of course, it kind of sucks once you figure out that the only way to become a ghost, is to be hand-picked by some higher-leveled being most of us never get to meet."
- A victim of fate [/fieldbox]
- A victim of fate [/fieldbox]
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